Merely the Groom (Free Fellows League 2)

She braced herself, expecting pain as Colin surged forward and buried himself inside her. But there was none.

Colin kissed her cheek, then her eyelids, and finally, her mouth. He kissed her gently, tenderly, reverently, and held her as if she were precious and fragile.

Gillian shifted her hips experimentally and bit her bottom lip as the pleasure began to build once again. She lifted her hips again, and Colin understood. He fought to go slowly, fought to maintain control, and his body strained with the effort. Gillian tightened her hold on him. She put her arms around his neck and held on, then locked her legs around his waist once again as he began to move within her.

Gently, slowly at first, then faster.

Gillian followed Colin’s lead, matching her movements to his until they developed a rhythm uniquely their own. She kissed him as they moved together—kissed his arms, his shoulders, his neck, his chin, the corner of his mouth. And she trusted him to lead her to that place that seemed just beyond her reach; the place where she became him and he became her, the place where the two of them became one. And then, suddenly, she felt him shiver uncontrollably, heard him shout her name, and Gillian let herself go with him.

The real world seemed to slip away; there was only Colin and the almost unbearable feeling of pleasure spiraling inside her. She called out his name. In wonder. In joy. And in gratitude as he gifted her with an incredibly intense, heart-stoppingly pleasurable release.

Chapter Twenty-three

“‘Fondling,’ she saith, since I have hemm’d thee here

Within the circuit of this ivory pale,

I’ll be a park, and thou shall be my deer;

Feed where thy wilt, on mountain or in dale;

Graze on my lips, and if those hills be dry,

Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.’”

—William Shakespeare, 1564-1616

Venus and Adonis

Gillian awoke much later to find her head cradled on Colin’s shoulder, her hair fanned out across the pillow, and one of her arms resting on his chest. She sighed, then cuddled closer to him and pressed her lips against the side of his chest. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“You’re welcome,” Colin answered in his husky burr as he tightened his arm around her. “I don’t seem to be able to resist the young lady who says please and thank you so nicely.”

“Then I’ll have to be careful not to leave you to your own devices when there are other ladies present,” Gillian told him. “For most young ladies know the value of nicely saying please and thank you.”

“Believe me, my lady,” Colin told her. “I’m happily married and the most trustworthy of men. You are the only lady I cannot resist.”

“What of all the other ladies who’ve shared your pillow?” Gillian teased.

“So, we’re back to that again, are we?” Colin chuckled. “I thought you’d forgotten.”

Gillian sighed. “You hoped I’d forgotten. But you were mistaken. For you see, my lord Grantham, I have a memory like an elephant.” She rubbed her fingers through the hair on his chest and began a slow, soothing massage. “I never forget anything.”

“If that’s the only way in which you resemble an elephant,” Colin teased. “I have no complaints.”

Gillian turned and propped herself up on her elbow so she could look down at him. “These last few weeks have also given me the hide of an elephant.”

“One generally needs the hide of an elephant to survive the viciousness of the ton.” Colin smoothed his palm over her from shoulder to thigh and smiled. “But I find no evidence that you’ve acquired that particular trait.” He smoothed his hand back over her from thigh to shoulder. “Though you’ve done a magnificent job of hiding the wounds.”

“I was speaking metaphorically,” she said. “And you’re avoiding the question.”

“Aye,” he raised an eyebrow. “My lady has a memory and a vocabulary and...”

“And?”

“Kisses to die for.”

Gillian tried to not to smile, but she lost the battle. “I’ll bet you say that to all the ladies. Especially the ones who always do—something—whenever they share your pillow.”