Reaching up, she pressed his hand over her breast again and held it there. “I can’t,” she whispered. “Please, Nick, please don’t stop. Don’t ever let me go.”
A full-body shiver went through him. Then, as if he’d fought his last, best battle, something seemed to break inside him, the final chains of his willpower snapping free. Pulling her forcefully against him again, he crushed her lips to his for a series of fervid, open-mouthed kisses that sent her reeling.
The room spun all over again as he scooped her off her feet and carried her swiftly across to the sofa, shucking off her robe before laying her down against the cushions.
Yanking open the silver buttons on his waistcoat, apparently uncaring when one popped loose and rolled across the floor, he shrugged out of the garment. He pulled his shirt over his head next, then sent both pieces of clothing flying.
She couldn’t look away, bewitched by his sinuous masculine grace. She’d viewed Lord Elgin’s collection of Grecian marbles, but Nick put them all to shame.
He was, in a word, magnificent.
His arms were long and roped with sleek, heavy muscle, his chest broad and roughened with the same short, curled dark hair she’d glimpsed earlier. Letting her eyes drink him in, she took note of the flat plane of his stomach and a second, much thinner, line of hair that disappeared in the most intriguing of ways beneath the waistband of his trousers.
As for the large, unmistakable bulge inside those trousers… She gulped and looked away. Heat burst to life in her cheeks in a shade that must surely have been as red as the ripest apple ever to be plucked off a tree.
But Nick made no comment as he toed off his shoes and lowered himself onto the sofa beside her.
Any momentary qualms vanished as he pulled her against him, her pulse racing furiously as his fingers reached for the row of buttons on the front of her nightgown.
He kissed her, his mouth moving in an unhurried slide over hers. It was as if, now that he’d made up his mind to make love to her, he meant to take his time and do it thoroughly.
While his fingers worked with methodical purpose over the buttons, his lips played on hers, the freeing of each new button punctuated by ever more intense and passionate kisses.
She was literally gasping for air by the time he reached the last one. Once he slipped it loose, he lifted his head, then used one large warm hand to brush back both sides of the cloth to reveal her trembling flesh beneath.
For a long moment he stared, his expression absolutely inscrutable. She wondered what he was thinking, the tight, aching peaks of her breasts drawing even tighter beneath his inquiring gaze.
Instinctively, she began to raise a hand to cover herself when he stopped her, his fingers wrapping lightly around her arm to hold her still. Bending low, he kissed her, his lips sweeping over the quivering curve of her collarbone, then down to graze first one breast then the other. Without pausing, he continued, drawing a stunned, ragged moan from her throat as he closed his mouth over one of her nipples.
She shook at the sweet suction of his caresses, yanking her arm from his hold so she could thread her fingers into the thick, dark silk of his hair and hold him closer. He smiled against her before flicking her with his tongue. Her spine arched, unwittingly giving him even more access to her needy flesh.
Renewed flames raked her body, burning in direct proportion to the intensity of his ardent attentions. Just when she thought she couldn’t stand another moment of his exquisite suckling kisses, he abandoned the first breast and moved on to pleasure the next.
Her head rolled against the cushion behind her, legs shifting with restless need.
“Shh,” he said in a soothing voice, his breath tingling against her damp skin. “Just relax. Trust me and let it happen.”
Let what happen? she thought dreamily.
Was there more than this divine bliss?
More rapture than he’d given her already?
She could not imagine how that might be possible. And improbable as it might seem, if there was more, as he promised, how would she be able to endure it? His kisses and touches were close to torture now—exquisite torture, yes, but torture all the same.
She was about to tell him that perhaps she needed to slow things down a bit when he slid a wide palm along the bare skin of her leg. Ankle to calf, knee to thigh in a tantalizing glide of pure sensation, her nightgown bunching up atop his powerful arm as he went.
A fierce shiver chased over her skin, chills battling scorching heat at each new delight he provoked.
This is what he must mean, she thought.
But seconds later she realized she knew nothing as his hand smoothed over the ultrasensitive curve of her inner thigh, his fingers reaching to part her where she’d never thought to be touched.
Her eyes flew wide.
“Dominic!” she cried as he slipped one long finger inside.
And then she couldn’t think at all, breath panting from her parted lips as he caressed her in slow, deep, penetrating strokes. But he wasn’t content with that alone as he bent his head over her breast again, timing the sublime suction of his kisses to the movements of his hand.
Her fingers dug into the one of the silk pillows that was crushed between her hip and the side of the couch. She took it in a death grip, squeezing tight as an aching, agonizing desire built within her.
Every touch of his mouth and hands increased her need until she thought she might expire. She knew she must have died in truth when he eased back, only to return with two fingers, filling her, then stretching her wide as he scissored them apart.
A keening wail burst from her mouth, silenced seconds later as he covered her lips to swallow the sound. She shook, awash in the most powerful rapture she could imagine.
Liebling, she thought, crying the endearment in her head as she reverted in that moment to the language she had first been taught to speak.
She kissed him back with a wild reverence, soaring on a cloud of bliss. He stroked her hair, twining the long tresses over his wrist before gently arching her head back to nuzzle her neck where her pulse beat in a crazy tattoo.
A little laugh chimed from her lips—a giddy swell of happiness that refused to be muffled or restrained. Not that she was trying to restrain anything at the moment, too enthralled by his caresses to do more than respond.
Lifting his head, he met her gaze. “So you liked that, did you?” he asked with husky good humor.
Giggling, she nodded, drunk with delight.
“Good.” He sent her a thoroughly devilish smile. “Then I believe it deserves an encore.”
Before she even had time to consider that remark, his fingers began moving inside her again, his thumb doing something this time that must surely be illegal in certain parts of the world. Her hips arched instinctively to draw him deeper, her body growing increasingly hot and slick where his hand lay nestled between her patch of nether curls.
The reaction ought to have shamed her, she supposed, but she was beyond such concerns at the moment. Besides, Nick didn’t seem to mind that she was so wet, so why should she?
Thighs quivering, she let them loll wider, opening herself even more fully to his ministrations.
Suddenly, he caught her earlobe between his teeth, then released it to kiss her nape. “Touch me,” he said. “I want your hands on me.”
Her lashes fluttered open. “W-where?”
“Anywhere,” he told her, dappling her face and neck with kisses even as his fingers continued their luscious inner massage. “Everywhere. Just touch me.”
Raising her trembling hands, she laid them on the bare skin of his back. She felt his answering shudder, a low moan rising in his throat as she began to explore.
He was hard but smooth, his skin like satin yet tougher than her own. She roamed with an aimless, almost drugged curiosity, learning the shape of his form with its broad expanses of warm, sleek muscle and solid bone underneath.
Growing bolder, she traced the breath of his shoulders before gli
ding over the firm planes of his chest. Encountering the mat of short hair she’d seen earlier, she brushed her fingers over it, surprised by its soft, springy texture. Then she flicked one of his flat male nipples and drew a ragged groan from him.
“Again,” he ordered gruffly. “Do it again.”
She complied, enjoying the small quake that rippled through his muscles in reaction to her touch.
Her hands gripped him hard moments later as his fingers stroked with greater purpose within her. Breath thin, she panted as the heavenly pleasure built toward another peak. She hung on, needing it, needing him even more than she did her next breath.
Just another minute and she would claim that same sweet bliss, a little more and he would send her flying again.
Without warning, he suddenly withdrew, slipping his fingers out of her body to leave her stunned and aching.
She didn’t understand, her body protesting the loss.
Above her, he reached for the buttons on his falls and thumbed them open. His shaft sprang out, hard and heavy, as he pushed the cloth down his hips.
She stared, then stared some more, fascinated, yet suddenly, inexplicably afraid.
Surely he wasn’t going to try fit that inside her!
Catching hold of her chin, he tilted up her face so that she had no choice but to meet his eyes. “Don’t be scared,” he said tenderly. “You’ve liked everything so far, haven’t you?”
Numbly, she nodded.
“You’ll like this part too. I’ll make it good for you,” he promised. “Just trust me.”
And she did trust him. Even more, she loved him and whatever he wanted, she would give. The knowledge helped her relax as he settled between her spread thighs and moved her knees apart to position her the way he wished.
Surrendering, she waited, her heart thundering so loudly she was surprised he couldn’t hear it too.
Leaning forward, he claimed her lips again, his kiss warm and ravenous, while below he began to claim her body.
He was large and she too small, or so she thought as he worked to fit himself inside. She gave no protest, letting him raise her legs higher so that her feet rested on top of his back.
Inch by inch, he pushed deeper, arms taut as he braced his weight above her, hips rolling as he worked. She squirmed a little, biting the corner of her lip so that she didn’t reveal the pain the stretching pressure of his flesh was causing her. She sensed he was being gentle—or as gentle as he could be. But still it hurt.
“Almost,” he whispered against her lips. “Nearly there.”
Then, with one quick, hard thrust, he was in, lodged farther than she would have dreamed he could go.
Panting again, she hoped it was over, hoped he was satisfied. After all, she did want him to be happy.
He didn’t move, apparently content to relax inside her as he brushed sultry kisses against her mouth. After a minute, she kissed him back, her body adjusting bit by bit to the intrusion below. She sighed and wound her fingers into his hair, melting into the kiss as she forgot the worst of her discomfort.
A few kisses later, he began to move again, withdrawing nearly all the way before plunging back inside, only to repeat the action in a steady, penetrating rhythm.
She gasped and tensed, waiting for a fresh stab of agony. But the hurt had dulled to little more than a minor ache now, one with an edge that was far more akin to pleasure than pain. Impossible as it might have seemed only a couple minutes before, his deep, sure strokes felt good.
More than good, she thought, with dawning elation. Each movement was better than the last, every thrust harder, deeper, and more fulfilling than the one that had come before.
A raw hunger rose suddenly inside her like a fiery phoenix emerging from the ashes. Her muscles seemed to melt, turning warm and waxen. Strain gave way to glory as their bodies arched and tangled in an ardent, sinuous connection she could describe in no other way than beautiful.
There was no shame or sin in their union.
Only happiness.
Only love.
She would have given her life a thousand times over to know but a fraction of this joy. Yet here, in this moment, it was all hers for the taking.
She locked her legs tighter around his back and instinctively thrust her hips upward to meet his. Her hands roved over the sleek, fluid contours of his back, relishing the sensation of his muscles flexing and moving beneath her touch.
A rough groan rumbled from his throat, a shiver raking his frame.
Suddenly, he took her mouth in a frenzied mating as if he couldn’t get enough of her. Parting her lips, he found her tongue, darting in and out and around with his own in a way that seemed to imitate each gliding thrust of his shaft.
She quaked, rational thought fading beneath the onslaught of delirious rapture. His possession was complete, absolute, as if he’d reached in and stolen not just her heart and body but her very soul.
With no independent will of her own, she could only hold on, utterly consumed by the pleasure that lashed her body like an unbridled tempest.
He thrust faster, stealing her breath on one stroke, then sending her tumbling over the edge on the next. The world spiraled around her with a dizzy abandon, so that she didn’t know which way was up and which down.
But she didn’t care, her body engulfed in a crashing ecstasy that erased everything but the bliss from her mind. Nick ceased to be separate from her, as if they were bound together inextricably and for all time. Her thoughts went temporarily blank, her mind opaque with profound, rapturous joy.
When she returned to herself, she wondered if she had actually swooned for an instant. But only an instant, she realized, aware of Nick still lodged deeply inside her, his thrusts quick and powerful and nearly relentless.
Suddenly, he stiffened above her and gave a violent, rippling shiver, a harsh moan that sounded almost like a growl rolling from his lips.
She held him, dizzy and drowsy with pleasure, as he collapsed against her. He was heavy and still lodged deep, but she didn’t mind, content to caress his damp skin with wandering palms, savoring their closeness.
“I must be crushing you,” he said after a long minute, starting to shift away.
But she refused to let him go, coiling herself more tightly against him. “No,” she said, holding hard. “Not yet.”
Not ever, she whispered in her head.
He indulged her for another minute before rolling the pair of them onto their sides. Brushing her hair from her face, he touched his lips tenderly to hers. “You must be tired,” he murmured, running his fingertips over her face as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching her. “When you’re ready, we’ll go upstairs.”
But I will never be ready, she thought, pain twisting like a knot in her chest. I don’t want to leave you.
Gooseflesh rose across her skin, an icy chill erasing all the happiness on to which she was trying so desperately to hold. Some of her emotions must have shown on her face.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she lied.
He rested a finger beneath her chin and compelled her to look at him. “You are worrying and there is no need. Do you think after tonight that I have any intention of letting you go? Because I don’t. You gave your innocence to me and I do not take that lightly. From this time forward, Emma White, you belong to me and only me.”
Capturing her mouth, he gave her a slow, deep kiss that was both a pledge and an act of possession. Her senses spun anew, and she melted as she always did when he touched her, knowing he was right.
She did belong to him. Now and forever.
At length, he eased away. “I would talk now, but it’s late and you need to sleep. We’ll settle everything in the morning, I promise. For now, you are to have no worries or fears, since there is no reason for either.”
But he was wrong. There was a great deal to fear, the worst being how she was ever going to find the strength to leave him. He’d said they would settle everything between t
hem in the morning. What did he mean? Could he possibly be intending to ask her to marry him?
Her heart gave a squeeze of bittersweet pain and joy, longing to hear the question to which she could never allow herself to say yes. For even if she were not already promised to another, a marriage between her and Nick was impossible. Her family would never approve. As a royal, she was expected to marry another royal; they would never allow her to become the wife of an Englishman, even if he did happen to be a wealthy peer of the realm.
No, she would have to leave him. She didn’t want to imagine how hard it was going to be, like ripping her heart straight out of her chest. But it must be done no matter how difficult or agonizing.
But how?
She knew that talking to him in the morning would not work. All he would need to do was kiss her, whisper a few persuasive words, and she would bend to his will, as pliable as a willow tree.
Which left only one choice—she would have to run.
Tears burned her eyes, but she blinked them away so he would not see. “You’re right,” she said in a voice that sounded dead to her own ears. “I am tired and need to sleep.”
But there would be no sleep tonight for her—only impending anguish.
Forcing a wooden smile, she let him help put her to rights. Heat rose into her face when he wiped a wide smear of blood off her thighs with a handkerchief he pulled from his trousers’ pocket. But in spite of the trouble her lack of innocence might cause later, she did not regret giving herself to Nick. She was glad, fiercely so, that he had been her first.
Her first lover.
Her first—and only—love.
He pulled her nightgown over her legs, then fit her back into her robe, tying the sash closed with a gentle tug.
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