The Wolf's Wife (The Wolf's Peak Saga Book 1) Page 16

  “I told you,” Annabelle sighed, crossing the room and throwing open the heavy velvet curtains. She sneezed twice. “We’ll have to buy new curtains,” she mused. “I would recommend a chiffon set and then a velvet set. The velvet is good for winter, and to keep the bright light out when the baby is sleeping.”

  “Do you think we could find something similar to the design on the rocking chair?” I asked her, tracing my fingers over the gold threading.

  “I’m sure we can,” she said. “Now, how do you want everything set up?”

  “The dresser by the window?” I asked.

  “Not unless you want the baby pulling down the curtains during diaper changes,” she said.

  “Crib by the window?”

  “Didn’t you hear what I just said?”

  “Yes, right.” I thought about it, a hand on my hip. “Rocking chair?”

  “Sounds perfect,” she said, pushing the heavy piece into position. “We’ll get a little bookshelf to hold the toys and books. It’ll be perfect.”

  “Shall we do the crib on this wall?” I asked, pointing to the wall that adjoined my bedroom. “That way I can hear him if he cries.”

  “Good thinking. We can do the dresser on the opposite wall.”

  The brass crib was surprisingly lightweight, and Annabelle was able to maneuver it with no problem. The dresser, however, was another story.

  “We can leave it,” I suggested. “We’ll have to move it when we paint in here anyway.”

  “No, I want you to get the visual,” she said. She pushed and shoved, but wasn’t making much progress until I rolled my eyes and went over to help her. Together we dragged the dresser across the carpet. I was thankful Jasper wasn’t here to see it; he’d have a fit to see me moving furniture.

  “Perhaps a little to the right,” Annabelle mused as she stepped back to look at her handiwork.

  “We will deal with that later,” I told her, putting an arm out to stop her.

  “What’s going on in here?”

  We turned to see Jasper standing in the doorway, looking over our accomplishments.

  “We were just getting an idea for the layout of the nursery,” Annabelle said.

  “You bought the furniture,” Jasper said, his voice monotone. He seemed to be in a state of shock.

  “You knew we were going to,” Annabelle reminded him. “I told you. You gave me money.”

  “Yes, I suppose I did,” he said. He shook his head. “I just…”

  “You don’t like it?” I asked him.

  “It’s not that,” he protested.

  “The furniture is brass,” Annabelle said. “Very durable and the baby can’t bite it.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Everything is going to have to be moved so we can redo the walls and the flooring, but I think all in all it looks lovely,” I said.

  “Yes. Quite.”

  Jasper still looked a little unsure, so I went over to him, picking up my shopping bag from the floor.

  “Look what I got,” I said. “Look how adorable these little clothes are! Can you believe that in a few months, we’re going to have a little baby wearing these?”

  He took one of the outfits in his hands. I saw him swallowing a lump in his throat before he handed the clothes back to me.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Please excuse me.”

  He turned and left, crossing the hallway to his room. The door shut softly behind him. I turned and looked at Annabelle with wide eyes.

  “Well? Go to him,” Annabelle said, motioning toward the door.

  “Of course,” I said. “You’re right.”

  I set the bag down in the hallway. I was still unsure, and I glanced back at Annabelle. She raised her eyebrows in encouragement and was motioning for me to keep going. I sighed and looked back at the door, with no idea what on earth was upsetting my husband or how I was going to comfort him. I took a deep breath and raised my hand, and after a moment, knocked on his door.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I knocked tentatively on Jasper’s door. It was so soft I wasn’t sure he had heard it, but after a moment he said, “Come in.”

  My hand touched the cold handle when I felt Annabelle’s hand on my shoulder.

  “I’m going to head home and give you two some privacy,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”

  “All right,” I said. I watched her walk down the hallway, then turned back to the door. I turned the handle with a click and pushed it open, the door sliding over the hardwood floor.

  I had never been in Jasper’s room before. In our weeks of marriage, it had never been necessary. I wasn’t sure what to expect, so I gasped a little when I stepped inside. The room was massive, with a powerful four–poster bed taking space against the corner. The decor was done in a sort of regal look. The wallpaper along three of the walls was red with gold leafing, while the fourth wall was made of wood in a crisscross pattern. A thick oriental rug was spread over most of the room, and across from me a fire roared in the heavy stone fireplace. Tapestries were hung along the wall, and photographs lined the mantel. His windows looked out over the front of the house, giving him a lovely view of the driveway and the thick surrounding of trees. A mahogany dresser was along the wall to my left, and a set of chairs and small table sat by one of the windows.

  Jasper was sitting on his bed, looking up at me, leaning on his knees. He had shucked off his jacket and was just in his trousers and shirt. His hair was ruffled, the way it looked in the mornings. He watched with interest as I went over to the fireplace to look at his photographs.

  The first was a photo of a man, woman, and two young boys.

  “Is this your family?” I asked, turning the photo in my hands.

  “Yes.”

  “You look just like your father,” I remarked. He did, or he would, if he grew facial hair. His mother was equally lovely, with thick black hair spilling over her shoulders. Of the two boys, I could tell which was Jasper; he was slightly taller with fairer hair than his brother. This was my first glimpse of Seth. Like his mother, his hair was raven, and he seemed to glower at the camera. I set the picture back down.

  I moved to another one, this time a portrait of his parents on their wedding day.

  “Your mother was so beautiful,” I said.

  “It’s one of the only pictures I have of my parents,” he said.

  I moved down the mantel again. The next picture, in a gold–gilded frame, was of Jasper in a suit standing next to a blonde woman in a white gown. The woman looked remarkably like Annabelle, but her face was narrower and her cheekbones higher. I could only assume this was Cecilia. I hesitated, deciding if I should say anything.

  “You really loved Cecilia,” I said, tracing the frame with my fingers.

  Jasper looked down at the floor. “I really did.”

  The final picture on the mantel surprised me. It was a photograph from our wedding day. I had remembered awkwardly posing for photos during the night, but I didn’t know they had been developed. I took this picture off the mantel and studied it closely. Jasper and I were standing on the balcony, overlooking the gardens, our hands intertwined. Somehow, even though I scarcely knew Jasper at that point, the photograph captured a connection. Maybe not love exactly, not yet at that point, but something.

  “I love this,” I said, my voice just over a whisper.

  “I take that with me sometimes, you know,” Jasper said, clearing his throat. “When I’m gone on long trips. It’s comforting.”

  Warmth radiated through my heart, and not from the fire. Unexpectedly, tears sprung to my eyes. I was touched.

  I set the photo back on the mantel and came and sat next to him on the bed.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  Jasper nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  “You have nothing to apologize for.”

  “I do,” he sighed. “I feel like I’ve been holding out on you.”

  I paused. Yes, there were many times that Jasper kept his
distance. I thought about our wedding night, about how I scarcely saw him since we had returned from holiday.

  “You’ve been busy,” I said.

  “No, Christine, it’s not just that. Do you remember how after our wedding day I told you I was having a hard time because of things from my past?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Those feelings haven’t completely left.”

  I put my hand on his arm, rubbing gently. “Of course they haven’t.”

  He looked up at me, furrowing his brow. “What?”

  “Jasper, I never expected your emotions toward Cecilia to magically disappear just because we talked about them,” I explained.

  “It’s not fair to you.”

  I reached up, placing my hand on his warm face and turning his head so that he was looking at me. “Jasper, I’m a grown woman. I understand that it’s impossible to just let go like that. Honestly, I don’t think you should just let them go. Cecilia was an important part of your life. She was someone you loved very, very much. I don’t want you to forget that. If that means that sometimes our relationship is too much, that’s all right. Just tell me, and I’ll give you whatever time you need. But you must tell me. I can’t read your mind.”

  He nodded then paused, gazing at me. “How did I get so lucky to have you?”

  I smiled. “Annabelle.”

  “And yet, I keep forgetting to thank her,” he sighed, wrapping his arms around me. I snuggled into him, resting my head on his chest and pulling his arms closer to me. We stayed curled up like that, watching the fire flicker across the room from the fireplace, casting dancing lights across the floor.

  “I think the furniture you bought is perfect,” Jasper murmured.

  “Well, good,” I said. “Because you’ve already paid for it.”

  He laughed and pulled me closer. “In case I haven’t shown it enough, I’m really excited about our baby.”

  “Jasper!” I snickered. “It would be impossible to not know how excited you are. You were like a child on Christmas morning when we found out.”

  His lips were against my forehead, and I could feel him smile. “I suppose I was.”

  “Do you have ideas for names yet?” I asked.

  “A few.”

  I turned to face him. “Could I hear them?”

  “Well, for a boy, I was thinking Lowell.”

  “Lowell.” I thought about it. “I like it.”

  “It’s a family name. It’s my middle name, and my father’s middle name, and my grandfather’s first name. And then I thought, perhaps, your father’s name as his middle name.”

  “Then I love it,” I said, pecking him on the lips. “Lowell Arthur it is. For a girl?”

  “Well, my mother’s name was Charlotte.”

  “That’s beautiful,” I said, my heart swelling. “Charlotte Annabelle.”

  “Oh, no, we can’t do that!”

  I looked at him indignantly. “Why not? Annabelle did bring us together.”

  “I know, but then she’ll get an even bigger head than she already has!”

  I giggled. “Perhaps, but I think she deserves it.”

  “Perhaps you’re right,” he said, taking my hands. “Christine, I am so excited to embark on this adventure with you.”

  “And I with you,” I promised.

  Jasper reached up and pulled my face down to meet his. Our kiss was deep and sweet, lips joining softly at first before moving passionately together. I moved forward so I was straddling him as we sat, my hands tangled in his hair as he held me steady around my waist. His lips left mine, trailing kisses down to my throat. He nuzzled me, kisses peppering my skin. I leaned back, my back arching so he had better access. His hands moved up my back to the buttons on my dress, undoing each one painfully slowly. Finally, he seemed to have lost his patience. He tore at the fabric, pulling it off my body. I tossed it into an undignified heap on the floor.

  Jasper continued his kisses down my throat to my collarbone, sprinkling kisses before resting at the pulse point on the base of my neck. One hand stayed on the small of my back while the other one reached up, gently toying with my nipple through the silk of my slip. I moaned, my throat vibrating under his lips. I reached down and pulled the slip over my head, tossing it on my dress. I was completely exposed in front of him now, and he kissed back down over my chest until his lips found my other nipple.

  “Oh, God,” I sighed as he spoiled my breasts with his attention.

  I felt that feeling again, the one rising from the core of my body, threatening to crash over me with pleasure and render me absolutely useless. The dampness between my legs grew and I had a hunger unlike any other. I needed him there, I needed to be touched there. He was growing hard beneath me, and I ground my hips, his hardness hitting me at just the right spot. We rocked together for a moment like that before I pushed him back against the headboard.

  I undid the buttons on his shirt just as slowly as he had undone the ones on my dress. When his shirt was completely undone I sat up, pulling it off his arms. His eyes never left my body as I maneuvered, his shirt landing on the floor as well. I leaned down to kiss him, the warm skin of his torso pressed against the cool skin of my chest. My hand moved down to his trousers and flicked open the button. I trailed kisses down his chest, then lower, to the thin trail of hair leading from his belly button and disappearing into his trousers. I lowered myself between his legs and bent down, grabbing the trousers from his hips and sliding them off, taking his undergarments with me. I tossed the pants, the final article of clothing either of us wore, to the floor.

  His eyes never left mine as I lowered myself onto his stiff, hard member. I still couldn’t believe how large it was. Despite having already taken it in my mouth already, I was still worried it wouldn’t fit or I would choke. I moved slowly, my tongue lazily licking the saltiness from his tip. I worked my way down, touching and using my tongue, watching him to see what he liked and what he didn’t. I licked from the very base up to the tip again, before taking it in my mouth. The head hit the back of my throat, and Jasper moaned. The part I couldn’t hit I teased with my hands.

  Jasper put his hand on my cheek, stopping me. I looked up at him, still sucking.

  “Christine, you don’t have to,” he said. His eyes were deep with compassion, but dark with pleasure.

  I pulled off of him for a moment. “Jasper, please, let me make you feel better.”

  He didn’t protest anymore and I continued, watching his expressions of ecstasy as I worked. His member twitched under my hands, the muscles beginning to pulse. Just as I thought he was about to release, he stopped me again.

  “I’m not ready yet,” he said.

  He sat up, pushing me back so I landed softly on the bed. He climbed on top of me and kissed me, then trailed those kisses down my chest, pausing to lavish my breasts with kisses, before running his tongue down between my legs. I got even wetter as he licked my slit, his tongue working magic on me. He went slowly, taking his time.

  He dipped his tongue inside me before moving up to my sweet spot, sucking and teasing as he gently slid a finger inside me. He started thrumming it in and out of me, adding a second finger. His hand continued working as his tongue made circles around my clit, changing speeds and patterns to keep me right on the brink. He was hitting buttons of pleasure both inside and outside of me, and I didn’t know how much longer I was going to last. My breathing was growing ragged.

  Cool air hit me as he pulled away. I was ready to pout until he positioned himself over me. I wrapped my legs around him, encouraging him as he thrust into me. That first plunge made us both cry out. His forehead was covered in sweat as he pressed it to mine, kissing me as he moved in and out of me, hitting me deeper each time. He thrust into me over and over, never breaking our kiss. My hands moved up, nails digging into his back as the sensations racked my body. I tightened my thighs, trying to pull him as far inside of me as I could. He picked up speed and the friction became too much. Stars exploded
in my vision and my whole body tingled. I felt him contract in front of me and he murmured my name as the pleasure crashed over him too.

  I fell asleep on his hard chest, my face against his warm skin, his arms around me. He had pulled a blanket over us, keeping us warm along with the crackling fire. I was awash with utter bliss.

  We were woken up a few hours later, in the dead of night, by a knock on the door.

  “What’s going on?” I muttered as I tried to wake up.

  “Wait here,” he said, kissing me on the forehead. He pulled on his pants before going to the door. I pulled the blanket up over my shoulders to substitute for his warmth. I was drifting off to sleep as I heard him talking to whoever was at the door, but their conversation started to get louder, and soon I was very awake. I grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around me. Jasper was still in the bedroom, leaning out the door and talking to someone on the other side. I came up behind him to see what was going on.

  A man stood there, a few inches shorter than Jasper, with inky black hair and gray eyes. He looked at me with curiosity as I gave the same look to Jasper.

  “Who is this?” he demanded.

  Jasper sighed. “This is my wife, Christine.” He turned to me. “Christine, this is my brother, Seth.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Seth looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on the blanket wrapped around me. I shied away from him, tucking myself behind Jasper. Seth gave me a smile, but it seemed wooden.

  “I had heard you got married,” he said to Jasper. “I didn’t get invited.”

  “It was a very short engagement,” Jasper explained, moving himself slightly in front of me.

  I thought it was a poor excuse; after all, even though the engagement had been quick, the prince had been able to make it, but I stayed silent. This wasn’t my business.

  “Why so quick?” Seth asked. “Did you get her knocked up before the wedding?”