Married To The Mad Vampire Lord novel Chapter 222

Chapter 222: Payment_Part 2

Rohan came into the parlor in his shirtsleeves, a silhouette against the light from the hall. The coals in the fireplace gave just enough illumination to pick out the shape of his face and the pale fall of the lace on his shirt front. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her silently.

Belle ducked her head and clasped her hands more tightly on the half-knitted sweater. She heard nothing; only his shadow falling across the light on the carpet told her that he came into the room.

He walked behind her. He began to take down her hair, searching out the pins and letting them fall silently on the floor. Her plaited hair came free. She kept her head lowered as the braids tumbled across her shoulders. She had braided them into two parts and pinned them up that morning so she could fit the hair into her winter cap, she had so much hair for one head.

As she sat there still, he began to unbraid them carefully without a word. He spread the ends between his fingers, fanning them open, holding them up to her cheeks to stroke her, feathery, tickling, down the line of her jaw, behind her ears. He traced her throat, pushing away the shawl that was around her neck.

It slipped from her neck to fall on her lap. Softly, the fans of hair caressed her bared shoulders, in circles and arcs, to the nape of her neck.

She felt his fingers work at her front dress buttons, slowly, one by one downward, unhooking her corset too from behind. Belle bent her head as her clothing loosened around her. She breathed deeply. fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm

He moved in front of her, silently offering his hand. Belle placed her small hand in his, and he helped her to her feet, expecting him to lead her to their bedchamber. But instead, he slid his fingers through her braids, releasing the woven strands, spreading them, combing through them.

There was an intensity about him tonight, a strange severity. He never looked into her face. The fireglow traced his cheekbones and jaw, glinting on his dark lashes. He worked her hair, loosened it completely, fanned it open, and made it into a cloak around her.

He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her dress and underclothes down her arms.

Belle made a faint sound of astonishment. "Not here in the parlor room!" She exclaimed.

Rohan heard her, but he did not pause. He couldn’t remember exactly when he had first begun to imagine and fantasize about this—her hair spread around her in fragrant waves, her pale skin just a glimpse beneath. It had been recent, and now that he had her before him, now that he could sense the full beauty she possessed and touch her freely, he intended to make those fantasies real, here, in the warm light of the room, and savor every second of it.

While she stood immobile, he drew her hair forward in a curtain over her bare breasts. He allowed her that defense, covered her in a sheen of light gold, while beneath it, he took down all her clothes to her waist, sliding the dress and the plain white shift past her elbows and wrists.

She made another small sound, as if she wished to protest and stop him. But her hands were unresisting as he brought them free of the dress.

"We shouldn’t be doing—" She caught her breath as he rested his palms on her bare torso. "Rohan!"

"Hubby," he corrected her. He put his forehead down to her shoulder, breathing the liberated scent of her. "I like it when you call me that." He was exploring beneath the rippled shower of her hair.

His hand touched one straining hook of her dress. He released it between his thumb and forefinger. The clothes dropped in a bank of silk and linen at her feet.

"Oh," she said, a whimper of excited misery.

Below the dramatic length of her long hair, which had grown longer in the past month to the point it reached below her hips, her stockings showed white down to the tops of her shoes.

It was because of the length that she had begun to braid it, and Rohan was well aware of why her hair was growing so fast, it was because of the child she carried in her womb.

He then knelt before her and unfastened the shoes, powerfully aware of the whisper of her hair at his temple.

Turning his head, he kissed her calf and the side of her knee through the thick cascade. He cupped both his palms around her leg, sliding them up and down, exerting pressure inside her knee to invite her to come to him.

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