She stared at the man who had brought her such pleasure, at the man she had chosen to be her one and only lover. The seductive grin playing at the corners of his mouth conveyed a confidence in his ability to satisfy.
As though hearing her silent plea, he moved above her with panther-like grace: a slow, languorous prowl that made her pulse race and her inner muscles contract. Feeling the warmth radiate from his broad chest as he hovered over her, she raised her hands to caress the hard planes.
“You are magnificent,” she sighed, conveying what was in her heart without thought or censor.
His low chuckle held a hint of embarrassment. “I was just thinking the same about you,” he replied.
The heat in his eyes caused her heart to flutter. As she lowered her gaze, she noticed the thin scar running from his shoulder and across his chest, slicing through the dusting of dark hair. Raising her hand, she traced the smooth line with the soft pad of her finger and felt his body shudder in response. Her mind became flooded with various images: of a jilted lover exacting her revenge, of him being discovered in the arms of another gentleman’s wife.
As though sensing her disquiet he moved to her side, took her hand and brought it to his lips, placing light kisses across the tops of her fingers.
“It is nothing,” he whispered, taking the tip of her finger into his mouth, his tongue circling it before he pursed his lips and sucked gently, sending shivers sweeping through her body.
Suddenly, all thoughts became incoherent, disjointed, until all she could think about was the pleasure he gave her. With her free hand, she cupped the back of his neck and pulled him to lie on top of her, pouring every passionate emotion she had ever felt for him into a kiss that quickly became desperate and urgent.
With his knee, she felt him coax her legs further apart, felt the delicious weight of his hot body, felt the hard length of him nudge against her. He pulled away and she felt the loss like an empty void opening in the pit of her stomach. Until he took her nipple into his mouth once more, simultaneously pressing against her until she became so desperate for the feel of him that she clutched his firm buttocks and thrust herself against him.
“I’m sorry,” he panted, “but I simply cannot wait a moment longer.’’
“Please … please hurry,” she begged, not really understanding what it was she was pleading for.
Needing no further inducement, he entered her and she shifted slightly to accustom herself to the intrusion. How she loved the feel of his body against hers: large, warm, commanding. Instinctively, on the next slow thrust, she wrapped her legs around him, relishing in his groan of appreciation as the movement caused him to slide deeper.
“Forgive me,” he whispered, claiming her mouth with pure carnal lust. She was so lost in the dizzying heights of her own desire, it took a moment for her to feel the sharp pain as he gave one long, powerful thrust to bury himself completely. He stilled, as though not wanting to add to her discomfort, but the searing pain was soon forgotten, replaced with a stirring of deep emotion she did not expect.
She was joined with him in the most intimate, most sacred of acts, spread beneath him in wanton abandon, with a man she swore she would never show her vulnerability to again. And yet, she was not sorry. As he began to move, she closed her eyes: a moment to treasure the memory as her body hugged the thick length of him.
When she looked up, he was staring at her and with each slow rhythmical thrust those sinful brown eyes caressed her, as though to see into her soul increased his sense of pleasure. He rolled his hips as he drove deeper, rode harder. The tension built within until she was so tightly strung her body cried out for release. Aching in anticipation, her frantic hands clutched at the taut muscles in his back, grabbed his buttocks and urged him on.
“My God, you’re incredible,” he groaned between breathless pants.
“Dane,” she cried as an intense feeling of ecstasy r
ippled like warm waves through her body, leaving her shuddering and convulsing beneath him.
In the distance she heard his roar of satisfaction, felt the warmth of his body as he collapsed on top of her. He rolled onto his back, wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer, his heart pounding beneath her hand as she placed it on his chest.
“Is it always like this?” she asked dreamily.
He wrapped his arms more tightly around her and kissed the top of her head. “Never as good as this,” he whispered.
Chapter 16
Madame Labelle was relaxing in her hip bath in front of the fire when the mantle clock chimed five.
She breathed a sigh of relief when the heaving and banging above stairs finally ceased, for they had been far more rowdy than usual. The young blood obviously had something to prove; else his friends were running a book on who could groan the loudest. Poor Beth would need considerably more for breakfast, she thought, as she scooped up a rose petal from the water and caressed it between her fingers.
For some reason, her thoughts were drawn to Mr. Shandy: a thornless flower of grace and beauty, whose strength was of the heart, not the fist. A woman to be admired and respected, a woman she could have been had her parents lived, and she’d remained in the pretty Sussex village. In some other life, where things were not tainted and corrupt, they may have even been friends.
The loud rap on the door did not startle her. There was nothing that could shock or surprise anymore. Indeed, when she opened the door to discover that the Comte de Dampierre requested her presence in her private drawing room, the only thought she concealed was disdain.
With no time to change, she threw on her dowdy nightgown and covered it with a silk wrapper then brushed her golden hair so it hung over her shoulder. As she placed the brush back on the table, her gaze fell to the small bible: a fragment of her other life. Her father had always said it was not for us to question the hand of the Lord. The path to enlightenment reveals itself to all in due course.
Well, she was still waiting.
She placed her palm on top of the book and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, knowing it would take more than a heartfelt apology to absolve her of all her sins.
Making her way downstairs, she noticed Morgan standing guard outside the door. “Does he ever sleep?” she whispered, nodding towards the closed door.