“Poetry?”
“Merely truth.”
Lifting her into his arms, he carried her to the bed and set her upon it as though she were handblown glass that needed to be handled ever so carefully or it would shatter. Taking his hand, she pulled him down. “Make me soar.” Higher than a kite, a balloon, a bird in flight.
Chapter 23
A twinge of guilt pricked at his conscience because he had yet to tell her the truth of his identity, and yet he couldn’t deny the absolute pleasure it brought him knowing that she’d sought him out for simply being Matthew Sommersby. A man. Not an earl, not Rosemont.
Last night she’d needed reassurances. Tonight she was here because she neededhim.
He considered telling her the truth of things now, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment, didn’t want to have to delve into an explanation that might cool the passion that was burning so fervently between them. Later. He would tell her later, when his blood wasn’t rushing so forcefully between his ears, when he could think more clearly, when he wasn’t distracted by those lovely breasts that were in need of his attention. She wanted him now without the title. Surely, she would want him with it.
Clearing his mind of all thought except pleasing her, he lowered his head and began peppering kisses over her breast. Kneading it, licking it, suckling it.
Her hands running over the corded muscles of his shoulders and back served to urge him on. His name released on a sigh caused his stomach to tighten, his cock to harden when he’d thought it could get no stiffer. This woman had power over him that no other had ever possessed. She could so easily bring him to his knees, and he’d not object. He’d go willingly.
Shifting his attention to her other breast, when he clamped his mouth around her nipple, he lifted his gaze to find her studying him, her brown eyes sultry and smoldering with desire. Good Lord, he nearly spilled his seed then and there. No other woman had ever looked at him as though she were contemplating devouring him and would thoroughly enjoy doing so.
He trailed his mouth down her stomach, surprised when she shifted, sitting up slightly, leaning back on her elbows. Raising his head, he quirked a brow at her. “Is there something in particular you would like me to do?”
“I like to watch you.” She skimmed her foot along his leg. “Are you going where I think you’re going?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Very much so. I want you licking every inch.”
“You say the naughtiest things.”
“Only with you.”
She bent forward until she was able to capture his mouth with hers. He poured all that he was, all that he felt into the kiss. She undid him, every facet of him. So much for his plans of never again allowing his heart to become involved when it came to women. She had conquered it, mastered it. It was hers, completely and absolutely.
She almost told him that she loved him. Because she did. She’d begun to suspect she held these frightening and wonderful feelings toward him, but now she knew it with absolute certainty. But it wouldn’t be fair to give him the words when she no longer had the freedom to bind herself to him for longer than this night.
Although she realized with startling clarity that she’d never had the freedom. Not in the rookeries, not to a lad who raced barefoot through alleyways. Not in the posher area that her brother had built, not to a commoner who enjoyed penny dreadfuls, who accompanied her on adventures, who tore his mouth from hers, pressed a kiss to each breast, and pushed himself farther down so his breath stirred the curls between her thighs.
She’d set her own dream aside in favor of her family’s. And yet here she was, where she shouldn’t be, taking the night and him for herself one last time. She couldn’t leave him with the memory of only one night together, a night when he’d given her everything. She didn’t want him doubting that to her he had been special. That the joys he brought her, she wanted to return in kind.
His tongue stroked her intimately. Still resting up on her elbows, with a sharp intake of breath and a low moan, she dropped back her head. Another stroke, a swirl, and she turned her attention back to watching him, only to discover that he was watching her. Intently. As though each of her sighs was a catalyst for his own pleasure.
“Touch your breasts,” he said against the sensitive flesh.
And she did, skimming her thumbs over her hardened nipples, taking pleasure in his gaze darkening. He was caught between her thighs, and she was rather certain she’d felt him tense with her actions. Cupping his large hands beneath her bottom, he lifted her slightly and began to feast in earnest.
Winding her legs around him, their gazes locked, she held him in place while pleasure spiked. Oh, the wondrous sensations he caused to spiral through her. Instinctually, she knew no other would make her feel as he did: powerful, beautiful, magnificent. With him, she was everything she’d ever hoped to be, experienced all she’d ever longed to know. It wasn’t only the physical, although God help her, she’d have been content with that and that alone. It was the manner in which he made her feel appreciated, treasured, capable. Comfortable within her own skin.
He accepted her fully as she was. With him, she didn’t need a title, a ladyship. It was enough that she ran her bookshop and taught others how to read. With him, she didn’t have to put on airs or select the proper utensil for whatever delicacy had been placed upon her plate. For him, she could spread her thighs and let him have his way with her.
And what a wonderful way it was. Taking in the entire glorious length of him, his bare back, buttocks, and legs only heightened her own pleasure. Removing one hand from her breast, she threaded her fingers through his hair, circling them over his scalp. She had an urge to close her eyes, to do nothing but feel, but didn’t want to give up one moment of gazing on him, wanted memories of every aspect of their lovemaking. She would remember these bittersweet moments until she drew her last breath.
Then the pleasure increased, became a vortex of sensations swirling within her, tightening every muscle, collapsing until she was aware of little except his mouth working its magic, as though the little bud was a toffee he was savoring with licks, strokes, sucks. Her other hand was suddenly also in his hair, holding him there as her legs tightened their hold, as her thighs trembled.
“Oh God. Oh God.” The climax ripped through her, untethering her from the world around her until she was soaring, falling into the depths of his gaze until she was lost—and then found.
Slowly, provocatively, never taking his eyes from hers, he prowled up the short length of her and took her mouth. She tasted her own saltiness on his tongue, inhaled her musty aroma along his bristled jaw.
Rising up, he gently probed her, and she wound herself more tightly around him. When he plunged deep, she sighed with the satisfaction of having him fill her once again, completely, absolutely. He didn’t look away. She couldn’t. She wanted to memorize every expression that crossed his features. He pounded into her with vigor and purpose.
