Chapter 18
Outside, the sky lit up as lightning crackled. Rain beat against the window and the loud roar of thunder broke through the sky. The tremors that shook the night were inside Ambrose, too. He could feel their vibrations, warning him that the taut, tenuous grip on his control was about to shatter in so many pieces it would be impossible to assemble them again.
To hell with it.
Ambrose didn’t know what had compelled him to the concession that allowed his wife to change his mind about the fate of her sister, but he bloody well did not regret it—it had brought a smile to her face that had reached all the way to her eyes. In fact, it was odd, but he no longer felt as if a bog was swallowing him up whole.
He watched as his wife’s gaze drifted to his bed. It was large, designed for a large man. He smirked. He couldn’t help himself. He wasn’t about to let her out of that bed for a very long time.
“This is your chamber now, too.”
“You think I should sleep here . . .” She circled back to him, her tongue darting out to moisten her lips, sending a wave of lust to his cock. “Every night?”
“Yes.” He couldn’t say more than that, not with her looking at him the way she was. Innocent.Intrigued.
She had married him because she wanted a child. He’d never thought of children—he never thought he’d marry. But the moment she had confessed her desire, something warm had spread through his chest. Something that had felt like joy.
“And if I wish to sleep in my chamber?”
He took the two steps that closed the distance between them and slid his hands into her hair, tangling the golden strands between his fingers and tilted her head back. “Thisisyour chamber,” he brushed his thumb over her lower lip.
Her face brightened with a smile.
“Really, Ambrose?” She moved even closer to him, her breasts pressing up against his body. “You know how I despise commands.”
The teasing note in her voice drew his gaze to her lips, and his self-discipline dissolved. He bent his head and lowered his mouth to hers in a deep, hard kiss of total possession. It wasn’t enough. Would it ever be enough? Would he ever get enough? He didn’t think so.
He drew back to stare at her. “You drive me bloody crazy.”
He heard his own desperation in the words but didn’t care. Hell, he wasn’t certain what he was desperate for, except that in that moment, it was unthinkable not to possess his wife in every way. His tongue danced with hers, seeking more. She didn’t protest his lack of constraint, and instead, entwined her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with equal fervor.
Wild with want and consumed by desire, he began pushing her back, guiding them both to the bed. Control was no longer an option for him, he understood now, so he just let go. There was no point in holding onto something that was shot to hell anyway.
“Undress me,” he said, his voice low and commanding against her lips.
“Must you always be so bossy?” she murmured, but there was no hesitation in her movements as her fingers instantly appeared to shove his jacket off his shoulders.
“Yes.”
He thought he heard her laugh under her breath as the buttons of his shirt came undone, and Ambrose wasted no time in ridding her of all her clothing. He tugged at her gown, and then at her chemise, until all of her garments were scattered at her feet.
One day he would undress her slowly and with all the sensuality she deserved. Just not tonight. Not after he had longed for this moment ever since the morning after their wedding night.
And Willow didn’t waste any time either. As soon as his shirt hit the floor, her fingers were on the waistband of his breeches.
Ambrose couldn’t stop a groan from escaping when she leaned forward and kissed the ridges of his abdomen.
The moment his breeches were unfastened, he tugged off his boots and stepped out of the confining material, sweeping her up into his arms.
He laid her down on the bed, the mattress dipping with their weight. He took a breath, his eyes searching her face. She was beautiful, her face flushed and eyes glazed with burning hunger. The tightness in his chest deepened and spread. Christ, what this woman did to him.
“Ambrose.”
He smiled at the pleading note in her voice. Even the simple act of her saying his name sent a tingle along his spine. Dropping his head, he trailed kisses along her neck, down to the curve of her breast. He took a nipple into his mouth, his teeth scraping against the tiny bud. Warm and delicious, that was how she tasted. His tongue licked and flicked, and then he sucked harder. She gasped and the sound was sweeter than honey.
He paused, breathing in the scent of her skin—always sweet, always flowery—and tasted some more. He loved her scent. He loved her taste.
“You intoxicate me.”
