Bridgerton Collection, Volume 2 - Julia Quinn Page 0,99

head very slightly from hers until the tips of their noses touched and she could see his eyes, dark and colorless in the dim candlelight, but so very green in her mind, focusing on hers. His breath was hot, and his gaze was hot, and he was making her feel hot in areas of her body she never even allowed herself to think about.

His fingers moved to the back of her gown, moving expertly along the buttons until she felt the fabric loosening, first around her breasts, then around her ribs, then around her waist.

And then it wasn’t even there at all.

“My God,” he said, his voice a mere shadow louder than breath, “you’re so beautiful.”

And for the first time in her life, Penelope truly believed that it might be true.

There was something very wicked and titillating about being so intimately bared before another human being, but she didn’t feel shame. Colin was looking at her so warmly, touching her so reverently, that she could feel nothing but an overwhelming sense of destiny.

His fingers skimmed along the sensitive skin at the outside edge of her breast, first teasing her with his fingernails, then stroking her more gently as his fingertips returned to their original position near her collarbone.

Something tightened within her. She didn’t know if it was his touch or the way he was looking at her, but something was making her change.

She felt strange, odd.

Wonderful.

He was kneeling on the bed beside her, still fully clothed, gazing down at her with a sense of pride, of desire, of ownership. “I never dreamed you would look like this,” he whispered, moving his hand until his palm was lightly grazing her nipple. “I never dreamed I would want you this way.”

Penelope sucked in her breath as a spasm of sensation shot through her. But something in his words was unsettling, and he must have seen her reaction in her eyes, because he asked, “What is it? What is wrong?”

“Nothing,” she started to say, then checked herself. Their marriage ought to be based on honesty, and she did neither of them a service by withholding her true feelings.

“What did you think I would look like?” she asked quietly.

He just stared at her, clearly confused by her question.

“You said you never dreamed I would look this way,” she explained. “What did you think I would look like?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Until the last few weeks, honestly I don’t think I thought about it.”

“And since then?” she persisted, not quite sure why she needed him to answer, just knowing that she did.

In one swift moment he straddled her, then leaned down until the fabric of his waistcoat scraped her belly and breasts, until his nose touched hers and his hot breath swarmed across her skin.

“Since then,” he growled, “I’ve thought of this moment a thousand times, pictured a hundred different pairs of breasts, all lovely and desirable and full and begging for my attention, but nothing, and let me repeat this in case you didn’t quite hear me the first time, nothing comes close to reality.”

“Oh.” It was really all she could think to say.

He shrugged off his jacket and waistcoat until he was clad only in his fine linen shirt and breeches, then did nothing but stare at her, a wicked, wicked smile lifting one corner of his lips as she squirmed beneath him, growing hot and hungry under his relentless gaze.

And then, just when she was certain that she couldn’t take it for one more second, he reached out and covered her with both his hands, squeezing lightly as he tested the weight and shape of her. He moaned raggedly, then sucked in his breath as he adjusted his fingers so that her nipples popped up between them.

“I want to see you sitting up,” he groaned, “so I can see them full and lovely and large. And then I want to crawl behind you and cup you.” His lips found her ear and his voice dropped to a whisper. “And I want to do it in front of a mirror.”

“Now?” she squeaked.

He seemed to consider that for a moment, then shook his head. “Later,” he said, and then repeated it in a rather resolute tone. “Later.”

Penelope opened her mouth to ask him something—she had no idea what—but before she could utter a word, he murmured, “First things first,” and lowered his mouth to her breast, teasing her first with a soft rush of air, then closing his lips around her, chuckling softly