That carnal, breathless, madyeswas all he needed to hear.
Never had a woman pushed him to the brink of losing all control before he was ready, not like Olivia. Only she had the power to reduce him to this primal state. As if his survival depended on fucking her into oblivion.
His hips gave a hard thrust, and her eyes drifted shut in involuntary abandon. Her swollen lips parted, a moan escaped, and he was lost.
He stilled his hips, and she opened her eyes, a protest in her depths. He pulled nearly all the way out and thrust hard again, and nowshewas lost.
Even as he drove her to the brink, he must be careful that she reached it first. Her hands held fast to the bunched muscles of his arse, spurring him to increase his rhythm, her hips bucking up to meet him at each downward thrust, her passion driving him into a near frenzied state. Just when he began to question his ability to keep up with this madly impassioned woman beneath him, she broke in release, shouting her climax to the stars above.
Her quim pulsing around him, he could no longer restrain himself and gave in to the animal need clamoring for its own release. He gathered her sweet, supple body into him, one hand at the nape of her neck, the other at her hips, driving into her, relentless thrusts one after the other, her moans and gasps tickling his ear, urging him to the precipice, toward his edge.
“Olivia,” he called out as release claimed him in one, two, three thrusts, promising for a wild moment never to let him go, to hold him suspended in the dark, delicious limbo of bliss, need, and satiety for all eternity, for as long as his body was joined with hers.
No more than a spent slab of flesh, he collapsed on top of her before rolling slightly to the side to relieve her of some of his weight.
Their bodies exhausted, the race of their hearts slowing, reality began to creep in at the edges of awareness. He’d spent his seed inside her. Careless.
The thought, however, lacked urgency. What was the worst possible outcome? That she would turn up with child? That he would have to marry her?
He could think of worse repercussions.Like not marrying her?came a thought.Like walking away from her tonight?came another.
No. It couldn’t be possible.
Tonight, he’d been set free from a past that had burdened him alone for too long. It was only when she’d spoken the words aloud that he’d been able to see it. He was years removed from the foolish young man he’d once been. She’d not only offered him grace, but a glimpse into the man he would be . . . for her.
He would never let this confounding, fascinating woman down. His heart knew it down to its core.
“Olivia,” he began, unsure where his words would lead him . . .them.
“Will you hand me your overcoat?” she cut in. “I find myself chilled of a sudden.”
He reached for the discarded garment, and a sharp knock sounded at the door. “Lord St. Alban?” came a voice muffled by dense oak. “My lord?”
A muted scraping of metal-on-metal sounded as the key began turning in the lock. Without hesitation, Jake’s voice boomed, “Payne, do not open that door if you value your position in my household. You will immediately step back and await further instruction.”
All went perfectly still.
A nude Olivia tugged at his attention. She sat with her slender legs crossed to the side of her upright body, golden tresses tumbling in loose waves about her shoulders, casting her in the light of a sated Aphrodite.
A new burst of lust coursed through him. He could take her again this very moment. But lust wasn’t the only emotion guiding his response, and she needed to know. “Olivia—”
“It seems we’ve been found,” she interrupted, her voice husky and unlike itself. She reached for her dress. “We shan’t starve after all.”
His eyes caught hers. “I might be starving already.”
~ ~ ~
Olivia slid her gaze away from his, avoiding the meaning of his words. With all the passion of an automaton, she concentrated on dressing herself, her movements mechanical and rote, and an ineffable sadness stole over her for what she was about to lose.
The fact of the matter was that she’d gotten too close to the too attractive viscount. And kept getting too close to him, which wouldn’t do. He needed the sort of wife who could protect and guide Mina through Society’s slings and arrows, who wouldn’t allow a single one to find its mark.
Besides, had she forgotten that she didn’t want to be a wife again? She’d hated being a wife.
No wife of mine will ever be subject to such a marriage.
She wouldn’t think about that.
The last few strands of her fine hair tucked into place, her feet began carrying her toward the door, toward freedom. Except she didn’t feel free at all.
