“You will breakfast with me every day.” He moved her top leg forward and pressed a finger inside her warm wetness. “And dine with me at night.”
“Oh,” Jem panted. “I will have,” she pushed against his questing finger, “back that stallion.” Her breathing came in soft gasps as he thrust another finger inside her. “He—was lovely.”
“Lovely.” He wrapped his arm under her neck and brought her face back to his for a lingering kiss.
She groaned again. “I wish to name him Cyclops, in memory of a former beau."
Nick nosed the nape of her neck. He lifted her leg higher, baring more of her to his purpose. His fingers moved in and out slowly, wishing to draw out her pleasure.
Slowly, he eased his fingers out to replace them with the tip of his arousal. “A former beau? And you wish to name your horse for him?” He entered her, slowly, easing into the tightness of her, reveling in the sensation of her body grasping his.
“Oh. Yes.” Her breath caught. “I was quite fond of him.”
He held on to her hip, pushed into her fully, his swollen arousal forcing her to widen for him. Unhurried, he pulled back and deliberately thrust again, this time harder, to bury himself fully.
She cried out his name and turned her face into the pillow.
“God.” He gritted his teeth and thrust into her again and again with a slow, measured stroke.
“Please, Nick,” Jem whimpered, pushing back with each thrust. “I want you so badly.”
Her words roused him more. All thoughts of his pledge to be gentle fled. Reaching down between her legs, he stroked the taut nub as he moved roughly to satisfy them both.
Jem’s breath came in quiet gasps as she matched his rhythm. She grabbed his hip, holding him tight against her.
“You are bound to me,” he whispered to her.
“Yes.” Her nails bit into his thigh as her body grew taut like a bow.
He felt the peak between his fingers begin to pulse. “I love you,” Nick breathed into her ear.
They climaxed simultaneously, their bodies locked together in one long expression of pleasure. The bed beneath them creaked and bounced against the wall as Nick buried his face in her neck, trying not to cry out his release.
After, he didn’t leave her, but stayed inside of her, their limbs twisted about each other's on the bed. Whispering his love for her, he rained kisses down the freckles across her cheeks and into the dampness of her hair. He wished never to leave this bed, not tonight, not ever.
Reluctantly he let her go and she immediately turned to snuggle next to him, her chin propped up on his chest. Her fingers ran across his torso, lightly twisting and pulling at the hair until she found one of his nipples. The tip of her finger circled round and round as if she were thinking.
“What do you wish to ask me?”
“Reading my mind again. I find that most distressful that I am like an open book to you.”
He wished he could see her freckles in the flickering light of the candle. He wanted to count them. “You look like a child about to beg for a sweet.”
“I’m not good at begging.” At Nick’s raised brow she said, “At least not for sweets. I wanted to ask, and you must not laugh.”
“I promise to remain solemn and serious.” He kissed the tip of her nose, thinking how precious to him she was.
“Do you really have an estate called The Egg?”
Nick held back the laughter that rumbled in his chest, lest he shake the rafters. “Do you not find that a most mysterious and foreboding name for the Devil of Dunbar's seat? Now he did laugh, turning his head as his shoulders shook.
“So it is true.” Jem wound a bit of his chest hair around her finger and pulled.
“Ow.”
“You promised not to laugh.” She looked across his chest and her brow wrinkled. “You are very hairy.”
“That bothers you?” He sincerely hoped not. Some women were horrified by an expanse of male chest and swooned upon seeing a man’s bared arms. He glanced at Jem. She didn’t look the least horrified—in fact, she rolled her eyes.
