Ashcroft launched himself into the bed, tangling his bare legs with Diana’s and pressing her deep into the mattress. Desire trumpeted a tumbling fanfare in his blood.
He’d promised himself he’d linger, tease, make up for his roughness in the carriage, but his hunger was too sharp. The frantic clutch of her hands on his back, the quick rattle of her breathing, the yielding curve of her body told him she didn’t want him to delay.
He slipped his hand between her thighs and stroked the hot, wet folds. Her legs fell open, and she made a low, yearning sound.
Carefully, he pushed one finger inside, feeling resistance, the swift clasp of interior muscles.
Another finger.
Devil take it, she was snug. Even after last time. The prospect of hurting her again made his gut cramp in denial. She moaned and lifted her knees, giving him greater access. He bent to tongue her pebbled nipple and felt her tighten. He sucked hard on the peak and slid his hand free.
Let him hold back long enough to give her pleasure. Raising his head, he stared into her face. She looked nervous, afraid, needy. Her lips parted over small white teeth.
She threaded an unsteady hand through his hair. More tenderness. “Take me, Ashcroft.” Her low voice made his blood thunder.
He dragged in a deep breath, paused at the entrance to her body, then slowly, relentlessly pushed into her. Her hips rose, and her fingers curled into his naked back, her nails digging in. She inhaled on a broken sob. He paused, struggling for breath.
“Don’t stop.” Her nails scored deeper, the sting feeding his arousal.
He inched farther. Pressure set off vermilion fireworks behind his eyes. Every muscle in her body denied him. If she didn’t relax, he’d hurt her again.
He set his jaw and told himself he could stop.
And wasn’t sure he spoke the truth.
“For God’s sake, Diana, breathe,” he gritted, as the tight passage pulsed around him.
She didn’t seem to hear. Her eyes were glazed. The heavy lids fell as if their weight made it impossible to keep them open. She released the air in her lungs on a long, shuddering sigh. The clenching pressure relaxed. He took advantage of the reprieve to thrust.
She fit as if made for him.
Although it killed him not to push to fulfillment, he remained unmoving, letting her adjust to his size. After brief bliss edging close to torture, she shifted infinitesimally.
The movement shot sparks through him. He ground his teeth, the need to possess her deafening thunder in his ears.
Only when her hips tilted in unmistakable encouragement did he slowly, luxuriously withdraw. With a smoothness he could hardly credit, he plunged back inside.
She opened as sweetly as a flower in morning light. Her hands feverishly stroked his back, then slid down to clasp his buttocks, kneading in a silent invitation to continue.
“Yes,” she hissed in surrender.
For a glorious interval, they moved together. His awareness shrank to the searing hold of her body, tension and release, the way her breathing echoed what he did.
Even so, he knew the exact moment she edged toward her peak. With clumsy haste, his hand sought her center. He stroked hard as he thrust.
“Ashcroft!” Her muscles tightened, milking him, insisting he cede to the darkness.
He resisted the flooding pleasure. His jaw ached as he struggled to hold back. Blackness came and went behind his eyes. He remained hard and still as she quivered under him for an eternity.
Gradually the waves receded. He braced himself to pull out, to spill himself on the sheets. The urge to stay where he was threatened to master him. He battled it like an enemy.
“Don’t,” she muttered, eyes closed, fingers digging into his back. Her face was pale and sheened with dampness.
“I must.” His throat was so tight, it hurt to reply.
“Don’t leave me.” She opened eyes misty with satisfaction and stared at him. “I want you to finish inside me.”
He’d traveled beyond thinking clearly. All he knew was he couldn’t lose himself within her. The rule, always unbroken, pounded insistently at what few shreds of awareness he retained.