“Did he hurt you?” He spoke in a gentle voice, but the implications of his question corded the words with anger.
Clara shook her head, unable to speak past the knot in her throat. No, Richard hadn’t hurt her. Not physically. He’d been dispassionate and methodical and she’d felt like a vessel rather than his wife, but he’d hurt her only after he died.
And never once had he made her feel like this—restless and hot and wanting more, wanting something she couldn’t name.
Before she could speak, Sebastian captured her fingers in his and, with unmistakable intent, brought her hand to the buttons of his shirt.
Clara skirted her gaze to her husband, her pulse jumping at the heat already brewing in his eyes. No swift rut beneath the covers for this man. She steeled her courage, though her hands shook as she unfastened the first button to reveal the triangle of skin at his throat.
If she didn’t look directly at him…she forced her fingers to work as she slipped each button from its entrapment. When the folds of his shirt began to part, she stepped back, her breath quickening in pace as she watched his long fingers release the final two buttons before he pulled the shirt over his head. Mesmerized by the dexterity of his movements, the graceful lift of his shoulders, she could hardly muster any shock as his shirt pooled to the floor.
A riot of sensations fluttered inside her as she gazed at his half-naked form. So utterly different from Richard’s slender torso, which Clara had seen bare only several times during their six-year marriage.
She stared at the expanse of Sebastian’s flat stomach, the layer of dark hair over the sculpted planes of his chest, the smooth musculature of his shoulders. A strange, urgent pulse flared in her belly.
Dear God, but the man was beautiful.
He closed the scant distance between them, his hand moving to cup her face and draw her closer.
“I promise,” he murmured in the instant before his lips touched hers, “I will only bring you pleasure.”
And then she was in his arms, his mouth crushed to hers, her hands trapped between their bodies. Clara breathed in a gasp and sank against him, opening her mouth to allow him access, drowning in the flood of sensations that swept over her. She unclenched her fists and let her hands spread tentatively over the expanse of his naked chest.
Warm, taut skin and soft hairs tickled her fingers as she pressed her hands against him and slid them upward. The steady beat of his heart quickened against her palms, delighting her with the knowledge that her touch could inspire his reaction.
The pulse in her belly beat harder, sliding heat through her veins and winding around her lower body. Sebastian’s hands stroked her hips, his fingers digging in as he urged her even closer, close enough that the bulge in his trousers nudged against her belly.
Rather than alarm her, the sensation flared a new spiral of heat. He wound the thick mass of her hair around his hand, tugging her head back for ease in deepening his potent kiss. His tongue slid into her mouth as his hand grasped her wrist and guided her to touch the hardening evidence of his arousal.
She hesitated, uncertainty warring with desire, before she allowed her fingers to curve around him. A hiss of pleasure escaped him, hot against her lips, and the sound emboldened her to tighten her hold. Even through the material of his trousers, he throbbed heavy and hard against her palm. A blaze of white-hot lust coursed across her skin. She moaned into his mouth, closing her teeth on his lower lip, swimming in the increasing urgency to see him stripped naked.
Tension rippled through his lean frame as he lifted his mouth from hers. His eyes blazed. He yanked at the ties of her dressing gown, the knots surrendering easily to his adept fingers, and pushed it away from her shoulders. A part of Clara’s mind remained aware that he was using only his left hand, his right immobile at his side, but so deft were his movements that his infirmity seemed negligible.
Although her shift concealed her from chest to calves, Clara had never stood before a man wearing so little. Sebastian’s gaze moved lower, to where the fabric outlined the taut points of her breasts. Her breath hitched as she moved to cross her arms, but he was swifter and caught her wrist in his