It was Breanna who eased away, leaning back a fraction, and staring up at him with jade eyes that were smoky with passion. “Royce?” His name was a wisp of sensation against his tips.
“Mmm?” He could barely speak.
“I really wanted to give you time to think about our future.”
“I know. I didn't need it.”
“That's not what I'm getting at.” Her fingers trailed across his jaw, drifted down the side of his neck. “When I asked what you wanted to do about the fact that you love me, I meant it in the more immediate sense.” A
suggestive pause. “As in, what do you want to do about your feelings now?” Her lips traced the path her fingers had taken, feathering kisses along his heated skin. “Right now.”
Royce's eyes slid shut, her vivid invitation making hot need explode in his loins. “Breanna...” His fingers tangled in her hair, intending to move her away from him but never quite doing so. “I promised myself I wouldn't—”
“Break that promise,” she whispered.
All Royce's good intentions crumpled. “You want to know what I want to do about my feelings?” he rasped, his palm moving down to cup her breast, his thumb teasing her already hardened nipple. “I want to lay you down by the fire and bury myself inside you.”
She shivered, stifling a cry as she shifted herself more fully into his hand. “Follow your instincts. They've always served you well.” Blindly, she pushed open his coat, slid her palms up the front of his waistcoat.
“Breanna—”
“Don't be noble, not this time.” She unfastened his buttons one by one—first his waistcoat, then his shirt. “It took all my courage to bare my heart to you. Please don't shield yours from me now.” She slipped her fingers inside his shirt, caressed him tentatively. “Protect me when I need it. Not when I don't.”
He felt her delicate touch on his skin, and the last of his resolve disintegrated into dust. “Sweetheart...'' He forced out the words, determined to say them before it was too late. “This time I won't be able to stop.”
Her smile was tremulous. “I'm glad.”
“Are you?” It was a lost cause, and he knew it. He was already reaching around to dispense with the buttons of her gown, frantic to have her in his arms, under his body. “First, we should be talking about the future. What you need, what you deserve”
“We'll do that later. What I need now is you.”
Something inside Royce snapped.
He swept Breanna up into his arms, placed her on the rug in front of the fire, and followed her down. His mouth devoured hers, leaving it only to blaze kisses down her throat and neck to the top of her bodice. His fingers finished their task, and he tugged down her gown, his mouth continuing its journey even as his fingers shifted to the ribbons of her chemise.
His lips surrounded her nipple, and he tugged at it, first through the barrier of her chemise and then beneath it. He lost himself in her flavor, his tongue lashing across one hardened peak and then the other, and he reveled in her cries of pleasure, the uninhibited motions of her body.
His hands were shaking as he dragged away her clothing, tearing the delicate material in his frantic haste to have her naked.
When he finished his task, he sat back on his heels and stared.
She was breathtaking, more beautiful than even his fantasies had evoked. There were no words profound enough to express his feelings, so he settled for making love to her with his eyes, drinking in the glow of her skin by firelight, the perfect curves and hollows that she'd offered only to him.
God, he was blessed.
“Royce?” She reached for him, not with uncertainty, but with eagerness. “Please—”
“Have you any idea how beautiful you are?” he choked out, letting his hands explore her, stroking upwards from her legs to her hips, then higher to cup her breasts, whispering over the tender points of her nipples. “Any idea?” He absorbed her quivering sigh, his hands retracing their journey, this time pausing to caress her thighs, to part them to his touch “You humble me.” He brushed the auburn cloud that beckoned him, first lightly, then more intimately, his fingers opening her, gliding inside to explore the velvety folds.
She was so perfect, Royce thought he'd die from it. He repeated the caress, and Breanna cried out, arching against his hand, her entire body responding to the new, unbearably erotic sensation.
Royce's fingers slid deeper, pushing into her gradually, his entire body pulsing with a need so acute, he actually wondered if he might spill himself before ever getting his breeches off.
Breanna provided that answer.
When she inadvertently tightened around him, warm and wet, tiny tremors shimmering through her, he regained control—only to feel it slipping away again.
Shoving himself to his feet, he tore off his clothes, scarcely giving her time to breathe before he covered her body with his. He moved against her, torturing himself with the motion, then kissing her fiercely as he repeated it.