Falling for the Marquess - Julianne MacLean Page 0,72

turned, and her husband entered the room. Her breath caught in her chest at the awesome sight of him. He wore a black silk robe and approached the bed like a panther—all confidence and suave seduction. If there was any resentment in his mind left over from that morning, he certainly didn’t show it. He looked completely at ease and full of anticipation.

“You were right,” he said, climbing onto the bed. “It was a good idea to consummate our marriage in advance of the wedding. Tonight, there will only be pleasure.”

Pleasure. It was always the priority.

She gazed at him with a sense of bewilderment. This was her wedding night, but she didn’t know how to feel. She couldn’t be frightened, because they’d already made love, and there was nothing to fear as far as her body was concerned. She should be looking forward to the pleasure he promised to give her.

But there was a small part of her that worried that he did not trust her, and that they would never be able to move past this wrinkle in their relationship because of what he’d learned about Gordon that day.

Seger rolled onto his side, rested his cheek on his hand and gazed at her with rakish eyes. She couldn’t help but smile because her new husband was clearly in the mood for fun, and it wasn’t much of a stretch to find her own yearnings for such delights. This was the basis of their marriage, after all. At least up until now.

“I thought it went well today,” Seger said. “The food was superb.”

“Delicious. I especially liked the cream cakes.”

“Ah, you like desserts. I knew it,” he said wickedly.

“Knew what?”

He ran his finger along her jawline and down the front of her neck. “Some women enjoy appetizers, while some prefer the main course. But you...I had you pegged for a dessert woman.”

“We women fall into such simple categories,” she replied.

Seger laughed. “But is it true? You look forward to the dessert, even when you’ve already eaten enough and are completely sated.”

“Yes, it’s true,” she said with laughter. Then her voice became sultry. “And what do you like, Seger?”

He sat up and helped her remove her nightgown. “Everything. I do enjoy the appetizer, but when the main course arrives, I think it’s the best—the most substantial part of the meal.”

He gazed at her naked form in the flickering lamplight. Clara laid her head back on the pillow, enjoying the way he admired her with such voracity.

“Tonight, I would like to be your appetizer, main course and dessert,” she said. “Consider it my wedding gift to you.” She tossed her arms up behind her head and crossed one leg over the other.

Seger devoured her with his eyes, then he removed his robe and tossed it onto the floor.

Clara loved that she could have this effect on him in bed. This part of their marriage, at least, was perfect. If only that perfection could spill over onto everything else.

Naked, her husband rolled on top of her and pressed his mouth to hers.

“Perhaps we could forego the appetizers this time around,” Clara suggested breathlessly. “After a week away from you, I’m afraid I am craving the main course.”

He laughed and gathered her close. “You are a dream.”

A moment later, smoothly and skillfully, he entered her. Clara sucked in a breath, elated by how he filled her. Bliss shot straight to her core. Seger moaned and withdrew. He rose up on his arms above her, drove forward again, and struck that part of her where pleasure seemed to begin and end, all at once.

Losing herself in the feverish ache that reduced her to something sweltering and unfamiliar, Clara sighed as Seger made love to her in the flickering light. Before long, she felt her senses reach a peak and clutched at Seger’s broad shoulders. Clara drove her hips upward to meet each of his firm, deep thrusts.

Afterward, her body relaxed, and she didn’t care about anything outside of that moment. All her doubts and insecurities disappeared, replaced by a physical satisfaction that somehow went beyond the physical—so much so it was confounding.

She opened her eyes and looked up at her husband. He was still inside her, moving with the hypnotic cadence of a poem. His eyes held hers, and for a brief instant, she felt as if she were floating.

Seger then let his own passions take him where they would, and he groaned with the ultimate fulfillment. Clara hoped he was putting a child in her