The Matter of a Marquess - Jess Michaels Page 0,42

began to wrestle with the placard on his trouser front.

She pulled away from his mouth and blinked up at him.

“You aren’t going to take off the rest?” she whispered.

The wicked, lazy pleasure on his face faded at the question and his gaze darted from hers. “I’m not sure you’d like what you’d see.”

“How could that be?” she asked. “I have waited so long to be with you like this. My fantasies never involved being naked while you only freed your…your cock—”

He rolled away from her and frowned. “Those fantasies…did they involve scars?”

She caught her breath. “Is that what you’re worried about? That I’ll see your scars?”

He didn’t answer, but his gaze slid away from hers and said what he couldn’t. She shifted to her side, propping herself up on one elbow as she placed her hand on his chest. Even through the layers of his jacket and linen shirt, she could feel his heart pounding.

“Has no one seen them since your injury?” she asked.

His jaw flexed. “None but my doctors,” he said. “If you’re asking about lovers, I have been with no one since the war.”

Her eyes went wide. It had been over two years since his injuries. He had been celibate that long? That made his pleasure even more paramount to her. Almost like he was an innocent and she the one to pleasure him. Perhaps it wasn’t for the first time, but the first time in a long time.

“I want to see you, Nicholas,” she whispered as she slowly rolled, pushing him onto his back, straddling him. “I want to see all of you. Please.”

She leaned down as she spoke, her hair coming around them like a curtain. She kissed him and he let out a ragged sigh against her lips as his fingers dug into her hair once more. The slide of them against her scalp made her already wet sex even slicker with need. And she knew if she just wrested his cock free, she could have what she wanted in an instant.

But that wasn’t how this was going to end. If this could possibly be their only night together, and she knew full well that it could be…it was going to be everything. She was going to make sure of it.

He struggled to sit up, their mouths still merged, and tugged at his jacket. He freed himself and it fell back beneath them. His arms came around her, tucking her closer as their kiss deepened. She ground down on him, feeling the hard length of him under all those awful clothes. She wanted it, she wanted him, she wanted everything.

With effort, she broke the kiss and scooted from his arms. He said something under his breath as she did it, she thought a curse. She laughed as she pushed to her knees next to him.

“May I help you remove all this?” she asked.

He let out a low sigh. “Maybe with the boots.”

“I can do that.”

She slid downward and went to work on the boots. Above her, he pulled the shirt free and tugged it over his head. Her fingers fumbled at the sight of him, half naked.

He was…spectacular. A visual feast of hard muscle peppered with light chest hair. She pulled his first boot off and tossed it on to the floor, then the other. Now that he was free, she pivoted and licked her lips.

“I don’t even know where to start,” she whispered.

He didn’t smile. He just pushed his hands behind himself so he could support his weight by leaning back. “It’s worse below the waist,” he said.

She wrinkled her brow, and then she realized he was talking about the scars. She’d been so mesmerized by the man as a whole, she hadn’t noticed them. But there they were. A scar along the front of his shoulder, bright against his skin. Another on his ribcage, set amongst the most fascinating lines of muscle.

A third on his stomach. A burn scar this time, red and rough. She reached out and then hesitated as his mouth tightened.

“If you don’t want to touch me, I understand,” he said softly.

Her eyes went wide. “I want to touch you so much I can hardly breathe,” she promised. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

He was silent a moment, studying her face. Then he said, “There’s pain, but not from the scars. If you touch me, you won’t hurt me.”

“Good,” she whispered, and placed a hand flat on his shoulder. She pushed, urging him back to settle on the pillows.