Mistletoe Wishes: A Regency Christmas Collection - Page 103

Bess bit back a cry as Rory possessed her body. But much as she tried to hide her reaction, he must have felt how she stiffened. He abruptly stopped moving and under her hands, his back went as hard as stone. As hard as that large, intrusive part of him pressing inside her.

He sucked in a shuddering breath and surged up on his powerful arms to stare into her face. “Dear God, Bess, I’m sorry.”

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bsp; “Don’t be,” she said huskily. She’d been unprepared for the act’s stark physicality, the way her wedding vows about becoming one flesh would feel in reality.

His smile was wry, although she read aching concern in his eyes. “I’d cut my throat before I hurt you.”

She raised one unsteady hand to his cheek. “I’d much rather have you alive and with me, Rory, thank you very much.”

“It will get better, I promise.”

When she shifted to ease the pressure, he settled more firmly. She was overwhelmingly conscious of the throbbing weight, but the initial pain ebbed with every second. And there were things she liked about what they did. She liked being so close to him. She’d definitely liked the way he’d touched her before he’d taken her. That had been wonderful.

Recalling those intoxicating caresses, she bowed up to kiss him. His fervent response banished trepidation. When she relaxed against him, he groaned and jutted his hips forward. Unexpected pleasure ripped through her, and her hands curled into his damp hair, bringing him closer into the kiss. He reared over her, deep-set green eyes unwavering on hers.

As Rory pulled away, her body clung to him. Her gasp this time expressed unconditional delight. When he slid into her again, she greeted him with a liquid surge.

“Oh, I see,” she sighed.

“You will.”

Closing her eyes, she gave herself up to him. The universe closed in, so that all she knew was Rory’s potent scent, the deep rumble of his praise, the sublime connection of his body moving in hers. A new sensation rippled through her, grew stronger and stronger. Until it was mighty enough to crack the sky.

The unearthly yearning coiled tighter. Surely she must shatter. It was the way she’d felt when he’d so shockingly placed his fingers inside her.

But this was…more.

Frenzied with the mysterious promise beyond the striving, she bit his shoulder again. He swore softly and changed the angle of his thrust.

The world tilted and flared into blinding light.

Bess cried out as she shuddered through the transcendent fire. He moved more purposefully, then with one fierce plunge, he flooded her with heat. Rocketed to heaven, she closed her eyes and clutched his back with frantic fingers.

Eventually the wildness receded, and the world stopped reeling. She drew her first full breath in what felt like a year and opened heavy eyes.

She and Rory lay on their sides wrapped in each other’s arms. They both breathed in gasps after those volcanic moments when she’d lost contact with everything but Rory and what he made her feel.

After that extraordinary union, her body ached. She’d never felt as close to another person. And because the honesty between them cut sharp as a knife, she could no longer hold back the simple, eternal words.

“I love you, Rory,” she whispered, placing a tender kiss on his bare chest.

“What the devil did you say?” He rolled her onto her back and rose over her.

Her stomach knotted with dismay as she struggled to read his expression. He didn’t look pleased. He looked like someone had hit him with a plank.

Under that searing gaze, the lovely glow receded. “It doesn’t matter,” she muttered.

They’d never discussed love, although he’d made his desire more than clear. But desire wasn’t love. And the stark, painful truth was that she wanted Rory to love her. She wanted it more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

“Bess…”

“You don’t have to love me back,” she said, wishing desperately she’d kept her mouth shut.

“Well, I’ll be damned.” To her astonishment, that devil-may-care smile curled his lips. “You love me.”

Her pulses careered into a drunken gallop, and suddenly she didn’t feel nearly so bereft and uncertain. “Of course I do. Why else would I have married you?”

Tags: Anna Campbell Romance
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