Bound To Bea

Chapter Twenty Nine

Noah did not need more prodding as he gripped her waist, shoving her back on the bed. Leaning down over her, he claimed her lips.

She returned his kiss, sliding her tongue in his mouth as he had done so often to her. Yet, he realized he enjoyed it more when she did it, and as her knees wrapped themselves around his waist, pulling him down until his form was crashing against hers. He reminded himself to be gentle with her, for he didn't wish to hurt her like Oliver had.

The fool! Noah mentally cursed Oliver, not only for marrying Bea and subjecting her to a life of pain, but for choosing to humiliate her upon his death. Bea was nothing like Oliver described in his letters; she wasn't a gold digger, nor was she cold and unfeeling. She was kind and warm and precious to Noah.

Noah loved Bea dearly, more than he had ever loved his entire life. She made him feel things he never felt, and he couldn't imagine his life without her.

She trailed her lips down his jaw, and he moaned his appreciation as her fingers caressed him, driving him wild with a passion that could not be tamed.

Fighting the urge to rip her nightdress off, he undid her buttons and gently slid the white fabric off her form. He leaned back, swallowing at the sight of her. She was as beautiful, as perfectly sculptured, as he imagined she would be.

Drinking in the sight of her, he sat still as gaze traveled the length of her, spellbound by her beauty.

"Noah?"

"Yes, my love?" He tore his eyes off of her body long enough to look in her eyes.

She frowned, fear dimming her eyes. "Is... is something wrong?"

"No," he whispered. You are perfect; so perfect, I fear you might be too perfect for me—he thought, yet he didn't dare speak those words for fear he might appear like an inexperienced lad gushing over his beloved. His ego kept him mute.

"Of course, you're displeased," she mumbled, tears filling her eyes as she struggled to a sitting position.

"What?" he asked, as she pushed him back and gathered the covers to herself. She wrapped her unclad form with the covers, stealing the view of her body from him.

"You needn't pretend to be attracted to me. You may be honest about how you truly feel."

"Bea..." Confused, he reached for her, but she shrugged him off and shifted to the edge of the bed, carrying the covers with her. Leaning down, she found her nightdress where he had tossed it on the floor and shrugged it on.

Noah watched her, utterly flabbergasted by her actions. One minute they were in the throes of passion, the next, she was tossing him aside and getting dressed. He always knew Beatrice was a headstrong woman, but he never suspected her of madness, he thought as he watched her cross the room and settle on the rocking chair.

"Bea, what is this behavior?" He remained on the bed, for he didn't wish for her to see how worked up he had become in such a short period of being in her arms. "Perhaps you must tell me what I have done wrong?"

"Nothing," she said.

"What?"

"My lord has done nothing wrong!"

Annoyed, Noah rose to his feet then. He no longer cared about the fact that he was naked as he crossed the room and stood before her. Her eyelids bulged as her gaze traveled to his waist area and her cheeks caught fire.

Leaning down without a word, he carried her in his arms.

"Noah, what are you doing?!" she protested his actions as he returned to the bed with her. He tossed her on it, evoking a loud gasp from her lips. "Noah—" she winced, the words dying on her lips as he laid down on top of her, pinning her to the bed.