Winter's Whispers (The Wicked Winters #10) - Scarlett Scott Page 0,57

man she loved, his wicked lips on hers.

Epilogue

“I have a gift for you. Two gifts, actually.”

Blade’s heart, which was already ridiculously full and large after having finally made Lady Felicity Hughes his earlier that morning before their families—Winters, Hughes, and even her curmudgeonly aunt—swelled larger. He was grateful, so bloody grateful, for Felicity’s love.

He took his wife, who was wearing a thin night rail he could not wait to peel off her lovely body, into his arms. Her hair was unbound, sending chestnut curls down her back, all the better for him to bury his face in. He inhaled deeply of her floral, beloved scent, and relished the feeling of her softness pressed to his body.

“You are gift enough,” he said tenderly, rubbing his cheek over the silken skeins of her tresses.

Her arms went around his waist, holding him tight. She pressed her face to his throat, kissing him there. “I am part of the gift.”

His cockstand was instant. “I like the sound of that, love.”

“Naughty man.” Her throaty laugh only made him harder.

She kissed his pulse, which had begun to pound in anticipation. He had played the gentleman—mostly—whilst awaiting their nuptials. He had licked her until she spent in the carriage back to London after cleverly orchestrating Auntie Agatha’s mistaken placement in a carriage with Gen, Demon, and Gavin. His trick had only been successful until they had reached the coaching inn.

Auntie Dragon had not been amused.

Felicity had been sated.

Worth it.

“Let me show you just how naughty this man can be,” he said. “I promise you will appreciate my efforts.”

That was not an exaggeration. He had every intention of making her come until she could not move this evening. The day had been long, with the wedding, the celebration with their families, and then settling in at their new Mayfair home, which was quite near to Dom’s and Devil’s homes.

That had been a feat that required Blade selling his ownership in The Devil’s Spawn and stepping down from his position there. Now, he was overseeing the waterworks for his family and beginning a partnership with Devereaux on a cutlery factory. Their marriage had not been as hasty as he would have preferred, but he had also known he needed to enter this union with her as a new man.

No more troublesome Blade Winter, fighting duels, carving up cheats and scoundrels at the Devil’s Spawn with his blades. No more rakehell and scoundrel. From the moment he had realized he was in love with Felicity, all he had wanted was to be her man.

The man she deserved.

He was not quite that man yet, but he would continue working at it, and he would continue loving her.

“I know I will appreciate your efforts, my love.” She kissed her way up his throat to his ear. The minx’s tongue ran over the shell. “It has been far too long since we have been alone. Lying in bed, touching myself while I thought of you, was dismal comfort.”

“Hell,” he groaned, thrusting into her so she could feel the length of his throbbing erection through the thin barriers of his banyan and her night rail. “You touched yourself, love?”

The mere thought was enough to make a bead of mettle seep from his tip, and he had not kissed her yet.

“I did.” She kissed across his jaw now.

By God, she was seducing him. So much for being the seasoned rakehell. All it took was one woman to bring him to his knees. The right woman. This one.

“Where?” he rasped, though he knew he should not.

It was so wicked, the notion of her lying alone at night, touching herself until she spent as he had done.

“My pearl,” she said, using the word he had taught her for that special, plump bud.

She kissed her way to his lips, her tongue flicking over the seam.

“Did you spend?” he asked on a growl of pure need.

“Yes,” she whispered, and then she kissed him.

The union of their mouths was deep and dark and carnal, filled with promise and love. He was thankful every day that her kitten had chosen his bed to get lost beneath and that his half siblings had done their damnedest to matchmake and throw them together. She was everything he wanted, everything he had needed without realizing it.

Their tongues tangled. The thought of Miss Wilhelmina had him lifting his head prematurely.

“What is the matter?” she asked, breathless.

She knew him so well.

“How is Miss Wilhelmina getting on with Mr. Spoony?” he asked.

He did not think it was