Earl of Baxter (Lords of Scandal 8)

He forgot he didn’t feel that way as she arched against him, her head falling back. He reached for the other breast giving it the same treatment as he began to undo the buttons all along the back of her gown. “More than anything.”

She stepped away then and, for a moment, he thought she’d make another stand against him, and he didn’t know if he had the strength to convince her again. But Clarissa tugged on each sleeve and the dress’s bodice slumped at her waist. With remarkable efficiency, she stripped down to nothing but her chemise.

He was certain his eyes burned with fire as she stepped back toward him. This was what he’d wanted.

And as she pressed to his chest, no corset or gown to mar her shape, he groaned as he traced every curve with his hands. “My god, Clarissa. You’re so beautiful.”

“I can’t believe you think that,” she gasped as his hands skimmed her breast again. “I spent years dreaming of you and…”

He stopped moving his hands, his head snapping up. “You what?”

Color infused her cheeks. “I would daydream of you. That you’d find me. That we’d marry. I never expected you to be an earl, of course. But in my dreams, you’d tell me you’d been looking for m

e. That you loved—”

She’d been thinking of him all this time too? It wasn’t just him? “I do love you, Clarissa. I love you with all my heart.”

Her mouth came down on his, their kiss burning in its intensity as their tongues mingled together until she finally raised her head again. “I love you too.” She kissed him again. “I have for a long time.”

He knew how significant that was. To know that she loved him made it even easier to think of his life as complete. He’d done all the things he’d needed to prove his father wrong and make these last several years worth living.

He tugged at the falls of his breeches, wanting to do more than just tell her how he felt. He wanted to make her his.

It wasn’t fair. If he’d had his strength he would have made love to her slowly, kissing every inch of her, bringing her to finish multiple times before he finally took her. But as he’d tried to warn her, this was selfish on his part.

When he got the trousers around his thighs he lay back, pulling her on top of him. He managed to only wince a little when her weight came down on him and then he was pulling up her chemise and sliding her knees on either side of his hips.

His staff pushed into her soft folds and he groaned to already find her wet and ready.

“Mason,” she gasped into his ear. “Tell me what to do.”

But he was already sliding into her slick folds. Tight as she was, he felt the moment he pushed against her maidenhead. “I just need to push past this part,” he gritted out as he thrust inside her.

She stiffened but made no sound.

“Are you all right?” he asked, kissing her temple. But inside, he glowed with satisfaction. To be inside this woman… He stroked her back. This was where he’d belonged.

“Yes.” She grazed his temple with a kiss. “Are you?”

Always the caregiver.

“I’m wonderful.” And then he slid out of her and back in. His body spasmed, need already overwhelming him. “Clarissa,” he murmured, his hand cupping her backside. “I want you to be happy.”

“I will be,” she answered, kissing his mouth. “I’ve got you.”

He didn’t answer as he moved inside her again. He quickened the pace, knowing he only had so much energy to give but she met his thrust and soon they were moving together.

He felt her tightening around him, her breath coming in short quick gasps and he groaned, his own end making every muscle in his body taut.

And then when he wasn’t sure he could stand another moment, she broke apart in his arms, crying out her finish.

He came too, his seed filling her even as he collapsed back against the bed. They’d had today and that had to be enough.

Chapter Twelve

Clarissa woke as the sun began to set. How long had she been asleep?

After being awake for most of the night, she’d fallen into a deep sleep. Her body was snug against Mason’s side and she blinked to realize she was naked and warm. Too warm.