“Well,” Kiernan said, clearing his throat, “Phoebe is a rather unusual woman. Now, if you will excuse me."
For a moment it seemed the men might proceed with the wedding night tradition of forcing their way into the bridal chambers but his father said, "Come along, lads. There's plenty more scotch downstairs for us."
One by one, they turned away. Kiernan backed into the room, keeping a wary eye on them until he had the door closed and bolted again. He turned back to Phoebe. She had crawled back into bed and lay curled up on her side, this time, sleeping quite soundly.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A heavy weight over Phoebe’s shoulder pinned her to the bed in the darkness. The mass of heat that molded to the curve of her back pressed closer. She stirred and the weight on her shoulder slipped beneath her arm and wrapped itself around her waist. Vague images of people laughing, food, drink, and a dark face, floated through her mind. She concentrated, trying to comprehend their meaning when the unmistakable hard length of a man pressing against her buttocks registered in her brain. The warmth around her waist crept upward and closed with a gentle caress around a breast.
Phoebe gave a small cry of surprise.
“Shh, sweetheart,” came a soft male voice in her ear. “It's me.”
He kissed her ear and warmth rippled through her. He rocked gently against her and her body gave an answering throb that so startled her, it was a moment before she realized his hand was sliding downward. Phoebe wriggled in his grasp. His hand cupped the feminine part of her through her chemise.
He sighed and began inching up the fabric. The material brushed lightly over the stiff curls of her woman’s mound. She was aware the instant the linen exposed her, for his fingers caressed her. He probed, parting the folds with a careful touch until, at last, he slipped a finger inside her wet channel.
Phoebe gripped the sheets as he moved his finger in and out. She was only beginning to adjusting to the sensation when she felt a flick to the sensitive nub that now throbbed with every tiny thrust me made.
“By heavens,” she whispered. “This is something new.”
He chuckled in her ear. “But the beginning of many firsts, my dear.”
Her mind swirled with vague possibilities, all ending with the same exquisite pressure she now experienced. He stopped abruptly, and Phoebe felt as though she teetered on a precipice she longed to jump into. He rolled her onto her back and came down on top of her. His weight pressed her into the bed. The memory of Brandon crushing her beneath him in much the same way flashed before her, but was banished immediately by a rough kiss to her mouth.
Kiernan released her mouth and nipped at her ear. “Only you and I in the wedding bed,” he whispered.
Phoebe gasped. Had she said Brandon’s name aloud?
Kiernan's mouth, hard and insistent, slid down her throat, while he moved his shaft in easy motion against her. He grasped her chemise and tried to tug it down her shoulders, but the linen fit snuggly over her breasts. His hands explored her chest, and his fingers gripped the top of the chemise. Even as she felt his muscles tighten she realized his intent.
Phoebe gasped as he rent the cloth. His mouth closed over a hardened nipple. She sunk her fingers into his hair. The heavy locks slid like satin through her fingers just as she knew they would. Thick and soft like—her breath caught, he must have lifted the cloth of his nightdress, for the velvety hard length of his shaft brushed against her thigh, then probed the nestle of curls. He found quick entrance between her damp folds. A thrill shot through her body, followed by the physical pleasure of his rubbing.
“Don't wait any longer,” she whispered, and she felt his body tighten in the instant before he surged forward—Phoebe bolted upright, a deep wheezing breath bringing her full awake and blinking into the sunlit room.
She blinked harder, her breath coming in heavy spurts, and looked at the empty space beside her on the bed. She raised a hand, unable to endure any longer the shaft of sunlight that dove in a relentless stream through the window and directly across her line of sight. Turning her head aside, she groped at her bodice to find the chemise she had worn under her dress was in one piece. She hazarded a glance at the foot of the bed and saw that the nightgown that had been laid out for the wedding night lay crumpled in a corner of the bed.