The Music Box (43 page)

Neither of them could breathe. Neither of them cared.

In one fervent motion, Bryce nudged her thighs apart, tearing his mouth from hers so he could watch her face as his fingers opened her, glided over her satiny wetness, then slipped inside.

Gaby’s breath caught in her throat, every nerve ending shimmering to life, converging into a frantic yearning right where Bryce’s fingertips had just teased. “Oh …” Her eyes widened, her entire body melting and tightening all at once as it responded wildly to her husband’s caress. With a will all their own, her hips lifted, urging him to take her deeper into this enthralling vortex of sensation. Bryce gritted his teeth, stroking softly, intimately, his fingers gliding more fully inside her, his thumb simultaneously caressing the tiny bud that screamed for more.

“Bryce …” Gaby wondered if she’d die, the pleasure was so acute.

“Yes,” he responded through clenched teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. “God, you’re so small. So tight. So bloody perfect.” A hard shake of his head. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” Gaby was frenzied with sensation. Hurt her? In some part of her passion-drugged mind, she remembered there was to be pain the first time. But at that moment, the very idea seemed incomprehensible. How could there be pain when every inch of her was vibrating with pleasure?

“Damn,” she heard Bryce mutter, battling himself as he deepened his presence in her body. “So incredibly soft. You feel like hot silk.” His thumb caressed that magical spot once more, making Gaby cry out, shift restlessly on the bed.

“Again,” she pleaded, moving against his hand as she sought that unbearably thrilling and elusive contact. “What you just did … please … do it again.”

Groaning, Bryce complied, caressing her exactly where she needed him—not once, not twice, but in slow, breathtakingly exciting continuous circles. “Like this?” he breathed into her parted lips.

“Oh … God …” Gaby couldn’t speak. She clung to her husband, unaware of anything but his touch, the havoc it was wreaking on her. Molten flame spread through her loins, and her eyes slid shut, every fiber of her being concentrated on some unknown pinnacle of sensation that hovered just out of reach.

She felt Bryce shift his position, his fingers never halting their sensual onslaught, and all at once the full, wondrous weight of him was upon her. His thighs pressed hers wide apart, wedging themselves between, exposing her more completely to the intimate stroke of his fingertips. Reflexively she molded herself to him, lifting her legs to hug his flanks, her hips wild in their undulations.

“Gaby …” His mouth was on hers again, his tongue taking hers in unbearably erotic strokes—deep, slow—matching the gliding presence of his fingers.

Then the gliding penetration vanished, leaving Gaby suddenly and acutely empty, devoid of Bryce’s presence inside her. His thumb continued to make its dizzying circles, but it wasn’t enough to fill the emptiness. She needed more.

“No!” She shook her head wildly, then moaned in pleasure when she felt him entering her again. “Don’t … go.”

“I won’t.” His hips were moving now too, his thighs rigid between hers. “God help me, I can’t.”

It was different this time. He was stretching her, taking her more totally, and the ecstasy building beneath his thumb burgeoned, intensified by the thick, full feel of him inside her. He was hot, throbbing, forging a path inside her where none had existed but which yearned for his possession.

He was joining his body with hers.

Gaby’s eyes flew open as realization mingled with sensation. “Bryce …” She was utterly and abruptly aware of this moment—this moment and her husband, his shoulders taut with the exertion of restraint, his features stark with need, slick with sweat, his rigid shaft pressing deeper and deeper inside her.

“Does it hurt?” he rasped, his hips rocking back and forth, faster, more urgently with each motion, his progress eased by her slick, pliant flesh as it yielded eagerly to his penetration.

“No. Oh, no.” Instinctively, she arched when he pushed, feeling the resulting pressure and not giving a damn. “You’re inside me,” she breathed, her heart touched as deeply as her body. “It truly is a miracle.” Another undulation of her hips. “Bryce, don’t hold back. I want to feel everything.”

Throwing back his head, Bryce emitted a desperate sound of primal male need. “God, Gaby, so do I.” He was pushing harder now, unable to continue modifying his pace so as to enter her by the measured degrees he’d been allowing. “Sweetheart!”

Suddenly he went very still, his muscles flexed, his thumb pausing in its assault.

Startled by the suspension of pleasure, Gaby felt her focus alter sharply, reconverging on her own body and the screaming protest that jolted through it at this unbearable lull. She hovered at the very brink of sensation, unwilling to retreat, unable to reach the peak she so desperately craved. Frantically she arched, whimpered, begged Bryce to take her over the edge.

He did.

The deliberately withheld, now deliberately bestowed caress was neither slow nor tentative. It was total, erotic, Bryce’s fingers gliding directly over the tight little bud that throbbed for his touch and remaining there—rubbing, stroking—until it became too much.

Gaby shattered.

Screaming Bryce’s name, she dug her nails into his back, arching upward, her legs gripping him tightly as her body clenched, then unraveled. She dissolved into climax, convulsing again and again in exquisite spasms of release, gripping the entire length of Bryce’s engorged manhood in fingers of fire.

With a triumphant shout, Bryce thrust forward, burying himself in her climax, tearing the thin veil of her innocence and plunging immediately over the edge. His hips pumped wildly as he gave in to the clawing demand of his loins, exploding inside her in a scalding, unending release, pouring himself into the very mouth of her womb.

Gaby cried out again, everything inside her opening in a rush, reveling in the sensation of Bryce’s seed as it spurted hotly into her. The intimacy and magnitude of his climax only served to intensify hers, and her contractions began anew—harder, more powerful this time, spiraling higher and higher until the very room seemed to spin away.

Perhaps she lost consciousness; perhaps she only drifted.

Awareness returned in increments—the softness of the bed beneath her, the blissful weight of her husband’s body blanketing hers, even the slowing of their heartbeats, the shallowness of their breathing as it gradually returned to normal.

Savoring this glorious aftermath, Gaby gave a shivery sigh, tracing the damp planes of Bryce’s back, the muscles now utterly relaxed beneath her fingertips. She felt weak, boneless and replete, her entire body suffused with a joy too profound to describe.

Bryce shuddered at her touch, murmuring her name as the lingering droplets of his seed trickled into her.

Another long moment passed.

“Gaby.” Ever so slowly Bryce raised his head, struggling to recapture his strength, his ability to think. “Sweetheart”—his fingertips brushed her face—“are you all right?” He made an attempt to move, then gave it up, instead rolling to one side and taking Gaby with him. “Gaby?”

“Ummm.” Gaby hadn’t the strength to open her eyes. She merely smiled, snuggling against her husband’s chest and pressing her body close to his.

She winced at the resulting discomfort.

“Dammit.” Bryce began to ease away, but Gaby would have none of it.

She caught at his arms, her eyes flying open as she shook her head. “Stay inside me. Please.”

“I’m hurting you. I already hurt you. God, I lost every shred of sanity and reason I possess.”

“In that case I hope you never regain either.” Raising her chin, Gaby gave Bryce a melting smile. “What just happened between us was like touching heaven.”

The harsh lines on Bryce’s face softened. “That isn’t surprising. Because heaven is what I’m holding in my arms.” He kissed her with aching tenderness, a soft, reverent caress that whispered through Gaby like a summer breeze.

“Was it the Wonderland you expected?” she breathed against his mouth.

“Not even close.” Another, deeper kiss. “Wonderland pales in comparison.”

“I’m glad.”

As if remembering something crucial, Bryce drew back, frowning as he touched the fading bruise on Gaby’s forehead. “Damn. I could have made this worse. What the hell was I thinking?”

“You weren’t. Nor was I.” Gaby caressed her husband’s clenched jaw. “Stop berating yourself. I forgot all about my wound.”

His anxious gaze searched hers. “Are you all right?”

“I’m euphoric.” Gaby twined her arms about his neck. “In every way. It’s as if my body is singing. And there’s no pain—not in my head, not
anywhere
,” she added meaningfully. “You made our first joining perfect, everything a bride could wish for.”

“I hurt you.”

“I scarcely felt a twinge. You made sure of that. What I did feel was …” She broke off, searching for a way to describe the sensations she’d just experienced, and finding none. “There are no words,” she whispered, awe reflected in her eyes. “None but these: I love you, Bryce.”

Emotion darkened his gaze to a deep forest green, and he gathered her closer, enfolded her against his heart. “Not nearly as much as I love you.”

They lay like that for a timeless time, their bodies joined, their hearts beating as one. At last—and amid Gaby’s protests—Bryce disengaged himself from her clinging warmth, but only to cross over and pour some water into a basin, dampen a towel and bring it back to the bed. That done, he eased Gaby’s legs apart, cleansing away the evidence of her lost virginity, then gently stroked the towel between her thighs, soothing away the minor aches caused by their lovemaking.

“Better?” he murmured.

“Ummm … yes.” Gaby sighed, her entire body glowing from his tender ministrations.

Seeing the slumberous look in her eyes, Bryce tossed aside the cloth, peeled back the bedcovers, and settled Gaby and himself beneath them, her body curved into his. “Would you like to sleep?” he asked.

She glanced at the window, saw the last filaments of daylight still drizzling through, and shook her head. “It’s not even dark yet. Why would I sleep?”

Bryce chuckled. “Some people rest during the day as well,” he informed her, tracing the delicate curve of her spine. “In fact, most people need more than your scant four hours of slumber each night.”

“Then I pity them. Sleep is such a waste of time.” Gaby stretched like a contented kitten. “There are so many inspiring things to do that are precluded by long hours abed.” Her eyes glinted mischievously. “Then again, I might reform now that I’m wed.” She pressed closer—and was rewarded by Bryce’s sharp intake of breath, his already aroused manhood surging against her. “In fact I’m certain of it. The bedroom is looking infinitely more alluring as of today.”

“Is it?” Bryce pulled her over him, drew her mouth down to his.

“Oh, yes,” she breathed, shivering as Bryce’s hands began to work their magic. “More alluring by the minute.”

They made love for endless hours—exquisite, passion-drenched hours—until dusk was transformed, first to evening, then to night. Gaby’s senses shimmered with the wonders Bryce introduced her to—wonders that seemed as astonishing to him as they did to her.

She didn’t need to ask why. This was as much Bryce’s night of discovery as it was hers.

Sometime before dawn, Bryce cradled her against him, threaded his fingers through her tangled mane of hair, and softly said, “Now you really
must
sleep. You’re still recovering from a concussion.”

With a resigned sigh, Gaby nestled against Bryce’s chest. “I know. Well, at least now I have some beautiful memories to dream about—and many more to make.”

Bryce smiled against her hair. “Your music box is at Nevon Manor. Shall I hum ‘Für Elise’ for you?”

“There’s no need,” Gaby replied solemnly. “As I told you once before, with you here, I need no music box. I’ve simply traded one melody for another.”

Her husband’s smile vanished, and his voice grew husky. “You, my love, are all exquisite melodies combined. You fill my life and my heart with music. You’re my symphony, and I love you.” He paused, and Gaby could actually sense his mood alter, feel his thoughts shift back to the ugly realities that today’s joys had held at bay.

His next words confirmed it.

“Gaby, these past few nights you’ve taken laudanum for the pain. Tonight is your first night without it.”

“I don’t need it.”

“I realize that, and I’m thankful. But I want
you
to realize it was the laudanum that induced your uncommonly prolonged hours of sleep—the kind of drugged sleep that bars any chance of sleepwalking. Tonight that benefit will be absent.” Bryce tipped up her chin. “I’m not trying to frighten you. Quite the opposite. I’m trying to remind you that from this moment on, I’ll be beside you. Every night.
All
night. If you so much as stir, I’ll feel it. You’re not going anywhere. What’s more, nothing will ever hurt you again. I intend to see to that.”

“I know.” Gaby swallowed, a knot of apprehension gripping her stomach. “And I’m not afraid of the sleepwalking—or of anything else—when I’m with you. But, Bryce, we both know this is no longer a matter of simply protecting me from a painful memory. What I overheard as a child was a murderer, someone who—it’s becoming increasingly likely— killed Dowell. It’s also likely that the same man murdered Mr. Delmore and tried to kill me. So hiding me away is not the answer. We need to find this savage, find him and see him punished for his crimes, before he can hurt anyone else. And it’s obvious I’m the key to his identity, if only I could remember everything I overheard. So, yes, I’m afraid—not of being hurt but of the unknown. I’m also frustrated, because it’s clear that I’m getting close. Why else would he have risked his neck by coming after me, in the open, at Nevon Manor?”

“Sweetheart, don’t.” Bryce tightened his embrace as if by doing so he could ward off all the evil Gaby was describing.

She shuddered, squeezed her eyes shut. “What happened the other day—it was like reliving my most terrifying nightmare. Not the assault, but seeing those flames, feeling trapped—and breathing that unforgettable musky smell. That deceptively sweet smell of death—I recognized it at once, knew I was amid a fire even as I lost consciousness. I inhaled, and I knew.”