“Always,” he replied simply, and the promise in that single word made something fundamental shift in Eleanor’s understanding of herself, of him, of what their partnership might become.
An hour later, Eleanor stood outside Damien’s bedchamber, her heart pounding with nervous anticipation. She’d dismissed the servants, ensuring their privacy, and now wore only a silk wrapper over her night rail—a far more daring ensemble than anything she’d ever donned.
The sound of splashing water from his dressing room told her he was still bathing, and she used the time to light additional candles around the chamber, creating an intimate atmosphere that made her skin warm with anticipation.
When Damien emerged, a towel wrapped around his lean hips and water still beading on his powerful chest, he stopped short at the sight of her.
“Eleanor.” Her name on his lips was rough with surprise and growing desire. “What are you doing here?”
“Thanking you properly,” she replied, her voice trembling as she approached him. “For today. For everything.”
His eyes darkened as she reached him, her hands settling on his chest where she could feel the soft curls of hair beneath her palms. “You don’t need to thank me—”
“Yes, I do. You gave me something today I’ve never had before.”
“What?” he asked, his arms coming around her to hold her close.
“A true partner,” she whispered, the admission vulnerable and fierce all at once. “Someone who sees what I’ve built and wants to protect it rather than control it. Someone who makes me feel safe without making me feel weak.”
Eleanor rose on her tiptoes, a gentle invitation that carried weeks of longing. Damien’s response was immediate and desperate—his mouth claiming hers with passionate intensity that spoke of sleepless nights and endless yearning. She could feel his hands trembling as they untied the silk wrapper that fell away like water, could sense the hunger in his touch as he discovered her beneath the silk.
“Christ, Eleanor,” he breathed against her lips, his voice rough with need. “Do you know how many nights I’ve dreamed of this? Of you?”
“Show me,” she whispered, her own hands urgent as they explored his bare chest. “Show me how you’ve dreamed of me.”
When the last barrier of clothing fell away—her wrapper, his towel—they stood before each other in the candlelight. Eleanor felt exposed yet powerful under his gaze; the way his eyes consumed her with such hunger made her feel beautiful, desired in ways she’d never imagined possible.
“You’re exquisite,” he breathed, his hands beginning their exploration with barely restrained urgency. “So damned beautiful, and finally mine.”
When he lifted her into his arms, carrying her toward his bed with care despite what she could feel was fire coursing through them both, Eleanor felt something she’d never experienced before—the absolute certainty that she was cherished, desired, and protected all at once.
Damien laid her gently on the silk coverlet, his eyes holding hers as he settled beside her. “I want to worship every inch of you,” he murmured, his fingers tracing the line of her throat. “But God help me, I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”
“Then don’t wait,” she gasped, her body arching into his touch. “I’ve waited long enough to be yours.”
She could see the effect of her words on him—the way his breathing grew ragged, the tension that coiled through his powerful frame. His hands grew bolder, caressing the roundness of her bottom while a groan escaped his lips. Eleanor would have purred if she were capable, as his fingers explored the back of her knees, then her inner thighs, sending shivers down her spine that had been building for weeks.
This was nothing like the fumbling, perfunctory encounters of her first marriage—this was worship, adoration, a claiming that reached far deeper than flesh. When Damien’s mouth followed the path his hands had blazed, pressing fervent kissesto her throat, her breasts, then finally taking her nipple in his mouth, she felt herself unraveling completely.
“Damien,” she gasped, her hands tangling in his hair as he lavished attention on the sensitive peaks. The contrast between his gentle reverence and the barely leashed passion she could feel thrumming through his powerful frame made her dizzy with want. “Please—I need—”
“Tell me,” he commanded softly, his green eyes blazing as he looked up at her. “Tell me what you need, love. Tell me how to love you properly.”
The question shattered something fundamental inside her chest. After all the years of being told what she should want, what she should need, here was Damien—her impossible, maddening duke—asking her to guide him.
“I need you,” she whispered, the admission torn from the deepest part of her soul. “All of you. I need to feel that I’m truly yours, that this is real.”
Something primal flashed in his eyes at her words. “You are mine,” he growled against her skin, his mouth finding the sensitive peak of her breast while his fingers traced lower, coaxing her swollen bud with devastating skill. “Just as I am completely, irrevocably yours.”
Eleanor arched beneath him as pleasure shot through her like lightning, her body responding to his touch with an eagerness that would have embarrassed her if she’d been capable of rational thought. But rational thought had fled the moment his hands began their exploration.
When he dipped his finger into her entrance, his throat releasing a primal sound at her wetness, Eleanor cried out, her hips lifting instinctively toward the exquisite torment. The intimacy of it—having him see her so completely undone, so vulnerable—should have terrified her. Instead, she felt cherished, worshipped, absolutely safe in her abandon.
“Look at me,” Damien commanded gently when her eyes fluttered closed. “I want to see your eyes when you fall apart for me.”
She forced her eyes open, meeting his burning gaze as his skillful fingers took her to new heights. The connection between them felt electric, profound—not just physical joining but something far deeper. Soul calling to soul, heart claiming heart.
She gasped as waves of sensation crashed over her, her back arching as she rode his fingers. He swallowed her scream, drinking in her pleasure as if to share her ecstasy and torment in equal measure. As tremors continued to ripple through her sensitized form, he gathered her against him.