Ainsley had a way of making the idea of kissing a major event, instead of a prelude to the wedding night they had yet to share. Desmond folded his hand around her neck. He didn’t forget where they were. Instead, he chose to ignore the music and chatter outside the pantry. 

He wanted to touch her smooth skin and taste her sweet breasts. 

“M’lord, is something wrong?” 

Her fingers tapped against the front of his jacket. He didn’t like that she was nervous. Her lips parted and the tip of her tongue slid along the edge of her teeth. He lowered his head and her mouth sought his for the first time.

The candy masked some of the sourness of her breath, but he was reminded of her upset stomach and drew away.

“Do you feel all right…I mean right now?” Even her sickness couldn’t stop his attraction to her. 

“Much better. Sometimes a crowd can be overwhelming.” 

He resumed the kiss and her lips glided delicately over his. She shuffled closer, between his parted legs and pressed her hip into his groin. He held back from rubbing against her. 

“I like kissing you, m’lord.” 

“I like when you say my name while doing so.” He stroked the pulse in her neck. 

“Desmond, please have patience with me.” 

“If it seems I don’t at times, will you not take it personally?” 

“I don’t understand.” 

He turned her in his arms and kissed the side of her neck. 

“It’ll never be you I’m angry with. Never.” 

Her head dropped away and his mouth fit to the slender corded muscle from neck to shoulder. 

“You don’t know that, not for sure. I may make an awful mistake one day.” 

His hand held the curve of her breast and her hand held his. Gentle caresses over the back of his knuckles encouraged him to test the limits of her gown. 

“I want to touch you.” He inched the gown up her leg. 

“Here?” She tried to stop him. “We’re in the pantry, someone could come.” 

Desmond found the crotch of her underpants already wet. 

“M’lord.” She moved, not to get away, but to accommodate the width of his hand. 

“You are a morsel for savoring.” He kissed her cheek. “It is a very good thing you’re my wife.” 

“Oh?” 

“Do not think I won’t enjoy every minute I can have with you.” 

“Like a possession?” 

“Like a lover,” he sighed against the damp curve of her jaw. “You have it in your power to possess me, Ainsley.”