Page 63 of The Dare Before Christmas

“No hiding,” he scolded. “I want to see. I’ll keep you warmer than any blanket, anyway.”

Torie shivered, though in anticipation rather than from any chill in the room, but Barnaby kept his word. He lay down beside her, drawing her into his arms, and the sensation of his hot skin against hers was so delicious and so shocking that it stunned her. Still, she wanted more, and so she curled her limbs about him, holding on like ivy coiling around an oak tree. Time passed in a haze while they lost themselves in the slow caress of hands over silken skin, with kisses that slid from languid to passionate and back again as they explored and mapped out all the delightful places their bodies touched.

When they finally paused for breath, Torie felt dazed, alight with so many new sensations she hardly knew what time it was, though the room was dark now. The dim light of the late afternoon had long since fled. The warm glow of the fire and a single lamp that burned on the bedside table bathed the room with a soft, warm glow, making it feel cosy and intimate despite the snow falling silently in the darkness beyond the walls.

“Don’t stop,” Torie whispered, consumed by the clamouring ache of need tugging at her core, wanting more of him.

“I’m a long way from stopping, love,” he promised her, kissing her again, before trailing kisses down her neck, over her breasts and belly.

She caught her breath when he did not stop, but carried on down. She was not shocked—Mama had always been frank with her children about such intimacies, and Flo had filled in any gaps—but knowing such a thing might happen and experiencing it were quite, quite different.

Torie raised her hand to clutch at the pillow beneath her head, needing to hold on to something as awareness rippled through her, It made her shiver and her skin burn all at once, made her arch towards the sinful mouth that covered her most secret place, to cant her hips harder against the wicked tongue that teased the tiny nub of flesh that throbbed and demanded more even as it shrank from the overwhelming sensation. But there was no escape. Barnaby held her hips, holding her in place so that there was nowhere to go but over the edge. The force of the cry that escaped her might have mortified her if she had wit enough to register it, but she’d been flung into the night, floating with the snowflakes dancing outside in the darkness.

She was warm and sated, and she found herself once more in Barnaby’s arms. Blinking hazily, she found him staring down at her with such an expression of smug masculine pride she could only laugh, beyond feeling either embarrassment or regret for her wanton behaviour. After all, he seemed well pleased with her, and she certainly wasn’t about to complain.

“Heavenly,” she murmured dreamily, still drunk on pleasure. “I’m a snowflake.”

“Are you now?” he said, amused. “You’re very warm for a snowflake.”

“Hmmmm,” she sighed.

“Found something else you like, did I?” he asked nonchalantly.

She nodded, grinning stupidly and wrapping her arms around his neck. “Now I need to find something you like.”

Barnaby snorted at that, obviously amused. “Oh, I liked that plenty. I like everything about you.”

He shifted, settling his body between her thighs so his arousal pressed firmly against the part of her that still throbbed and flickered with tiny fireworks. Torie gasped at the new pressure as a bolt of sensation lanced through her, sweet and hot.

“See? I like it too. I like the way you feel, the way you taste, everything about you pleases me, love. I want to be inside you now, Torie, darling girl. Can you let me?”

He positioned himself against her, nudging gently and for just a moment Torie’s body locked down defensively, but then she stared up at the man above her. She saw the tenderness in his eyes and the willingness to do whatever she wanted, to be patient, to take as much time as she needed. He would never take what she was not ready to give, and then it was all perfect, because it was Barnaby, and she trusted him to be kind, to give her everything she needed, to do whatever it was he could to make her happy. All at once she relaxed, her body pliant, welcoming him in. She gasped as he thrust inside, waiting for pain, or discomfort, but it was only rather strange and new, and as he began to move even that strangeness fled. Instead, she felt nothing but loved, nothing but close to this wonderful man, and she knew, as she had known from the start, that he was the one she would love for always.

She was neither shy nor anxious as he loved her, and let her wandering hands go where they pleased, mapping the contours of his strong shoulders, the sleek expanse of his back and the curve of his buttocks. She welcomed his kisses and revelled in the breathless endearments, the praise that might have made her blush had she not felt just the same, finding him lovely and wonderful, and as perfect as he found her. When his rhythm faltered and she felt his muscles lock down, a fine tension singing through his limbs, she understood that he approached that splendid peak that he had taken her to. The knowledge made her own body tighten. That joyous, sparkling sensation began anew, making her hold her breath and chase it, determined to reach the heights again as he was. Barnaby groaned, a deep sound of such pleasure that it reverberated through her, sending her crashing over the edge with him as his body shuddered and he spilled inside her, his breathing harsh and ragged as pleasure held him in its grip.

Somehow, Barnaby had wit enough to roll to the side and didn’t crush his bride by collapsing on top of her. It was about all he could manage, though. This woman had always melted his brains and turned his senses inside out, but now—after that—he didn’t think he’d ever be the same again. Not that he cared. Poor Torie might find herself married to a halfwit, but if she kept loving him like that, she’d just have to put up with it. What was a fellow to do in the face of such incandescent pleasure? It was astonishing and lovely and… By Jove, he was a lucky dog.

He heard a soft snort of laughter in his ear and turned his head to see Torie watching him, one hand covering her mouth as she tried to smother her amusement.

“What’s so funny?” he demanded. “Haven’t I told you about laughing at your beloved during intimate moments? You’ll give me a nervous disposition if you keep this up.”

His feigned indignation only made her snort all the harder and Barnaby propped his head on his elbow, staring at her in consternation. “What is so funny, you dreadful creature?”

“Y-You,” she stammered helplessly. “You had this daft smile plastered to your face, and you looked so p-pleased with yourself.”

Barnaby snorted too, not doubting it for a moment. “I shan’t even deny it,” he said, rolling onto his back and pulling her against him, gratified when she snuggled close. “I am daft. You’ve turned what little brain I possessed to treacle, and I don’t care. I’m very pleased with myself for choosing my bride so wisely.”

“Oh ho! You chose, did you?” she said, sitting up at that and poking him in the chest with her finger. “That’s such an infuriatingly male thing to say. I did the choosing, if you remember. You did a lot of running away!”

“Now, Torie,” he said reproachfully. “You really ought not point such things out to your husband.”

“Why not?” she demanded with a laugh. “It’s true.”

“Yes, but now we’re married, you must at least pretend that I’m the one who does everything right and never makes a mistake. It’s the law.”

“Oh, you poor deluded fool,” she said, giving a sad shake of her head. “You are quite out of your depth, you know.”

“I know.” He sighed heavily, and then pushed her onto her back, making her gasp as his body made it clear he was already quite willing to carry on where they’d left off. “But it will be a dashed lovely way to drown.”