“Trust me.”
He took his time preparing her. He stroked between her legs, he thrust his fingers into her to spread her wide, and he even lowered his mouth to lick his fill of her. She moved with wild abandon beneath him, and she grabbed a pillow to press against her mouth. He heard her cries nonetheless as he sucked her woman’s place. And best of all, he felt the grip of her thighs around his shoulders as her body arched in pleasure.
She quickened under his tongue, and he drank in her bliss. And as much as he could, he watched her body ripple with every contraction. Such beauty. Such strength. The pillow had fallen off her face, and her lips parted in delight. Her eyes were dazed, and her hair tumbled in wild abandon. He set his chin on her belly and waited as her breathing steadied.
“That is not what I expected,” she finally whispered.
“Tell me when you are ready. There will be more.”
She smiled then, but her gaze slipped to where her nightrail lay discarded. “There is a French letter in the pocket.”
His brows rose. What did she know of condoms?
“The upstairs ladies gave it to me when I turned twenty-one.”
He frowned. “That was four years ago. I’m sorry, Amber, but I don’t think the condom will still be good.”
Her eyes widened. “But—”
He shook his head. “I have one.”
She raised her brows, and he shrugged. “Shall I say that Lord Morthan has them? I found them in the drawer.” He opened the nightstand and pulled out a French letter. “I believe this is his way of keeping his son from fathering a bastard.”
She nodded and began to straighten up off the bed to watch what he did. He shucked the rest of his clothing in swift motions, and when his cock sprang free, she reached for it. “May I?” she asked.
He didn’t know what she wanted, but he could refuse her nothing. So, when she tentatively stroked him and reached for the condom, he let her. His body was thrumming by the time she was finished touching him. And then his hands shook as he taught her how to put the preventive on him.
Soon he was kissing her again. The thrust of his tongue was forceful, as was the way he stroked her breasts. He feared he would hurt her, so he eased his touch, but she gripped his wrists and pulled herself up enough to meet him nose to nose.
“Now,” she rasped. “Please, Elliott. Now.”
He nodded while gratitude overflowed from his heart. He settled himself between her thighs and slowly pushed forward.
She gasped in surprise, but she didn’t move away. In fact, she stretched her legs wider.
“You could never hurt me,” she whispered. “I have chosen this. I have chosen you.”
Sweet heaven, she was amazing. He pushed in deeper. She arched as she surrounded him in wet heat. And when her heels gripped the back of his thighs, he couldn’t hold back any longer.
He thrust inside and felt her maidenhead give way. He heard her gasp as her head arched back, and her fingers gripped his shoulders hard. He stilled. Of course, he stopped. She needed the time, so he waited, not even fully seated. He held himself frozen until he felt her relax. Her breath deepened, and her legs softened around him.
“Amber?”
“There is more, yes?”
“Yes.”
He thrust until he was fully inside. She moaned, but this time, not in pain. This time her lips curved in delight. A few moments later, he began to move. The slide of her body around his was like heaven. The smile on her lips as he thrust was incredible. And then she met him with his next pump. She arched into his movement and cried out in delight.
It was like a dam broke inside him. All the passion he held back, all the restraint that had been burned into him since childhood, gave way. He spread her legs wider and thrust deep, claiming her with every movement. He buried himself and jerked against her. He rammed inside and rolled his hips. It was all he could do for her in this maelstrom of need. Everything he knew to bring her to completion again before he lost himself in his own delight.
Her body gripped him. A hot rhythm of hunger that milked him. He gave her everything. He spilled his seed, pouring into her as he steeped in wonder. Wave after wave rolled through him and into her. Heaven.
He fell sideways and gathered her into his arms. He barely had breath but managed to kiss her shoulder and the curve of her neck. She stroked his back and into his hair.
And in that moment, as they touched each other, he knew he had lost his heart to her. She was the woman he loved. The woman for him always. And no matter where country and duty took him, she would be the one to whom he returned.
“I love you,” he whispered.
“I love you,” she answered.
They held each other late into the night.
When the storm stopped and the clouds parted enough to show the rosy glow of dawn, he roused himself. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to her bedroom.
He would not disgrace her yet. He would not own her as his mistress yet. That would come soon. For now, he would try to keep her honor intact. So, he kissed her one last time and crept back into the anonymity of his own bedchamber, where he sat and planned for the future.