“Thank you,” he breathed.
Her lips tingled with his kiss, and she wanted more. “For what?”
He kissed the tip of her nose, his eyes never straying from hers. “For trusting in me when I did not deserve it. For marrying me when I am not worthy of you. I know this is not the life you ever envisioned for yourself, that I am not who you would have chosen, given different circumstances. But I will do everything within my power to make you happy, Frederica. From this day until my last, and even beyond if I can help it.”
She traced her fingers over the slash of his cheekbone, the divot in his chin. “This is precisely the life I have always wanted, and you are the only man I would ever choose. I love you, Duncan, with all my heart, with everything that is in me.”
“That day in my office, you told me you wanted to wed a paragon, and Christ knows I am far more sinner than I could ever be saint.”
He had remembered. It was a day she would never forget. Thinking of it still made her cheeks go hot and a pulsing ache throb between her thighs. “I told you I wanted someone who is caring, who is kind. Someone who will not frown upon my writing. A man who will champion me rather than attempt to silence and stifle me. A man who is bold and adventurous of spirit. That is what I said that day, and the man I described is you, my love. It has always been you.”
His expression turned fierce. “I love you so damned much, Mrs. Kirkwood.” His thumb swiped gently over her lower lip. “But you have some of it wrong, I am afraid. I am not kind. Nor am I particularly adventurous, though I shall gratefully rectify that as long as you are willing to help me and a bed is nearby.”
“You are wicked, too. I do think I neglected to mention that trait, also quite dear to me.” She ran her fingers through his thick, golden hair, allowing the silken strand to sift gently back to his scalp. “But you are kind indeed, and I have always known it. Mr. Hazlitt told me about the foundling house you built, and of all the funds you have given to women and children in need.”
His jaw tensed, a flush rising on his high cheek bones. “Hazlitt bloody well should have held his tongue.”
“I am grateful he told me.” She kissed him, a quick though fervent peck. How could he see himself as anything but the good, honorable man he was? “It makes me love you more. You may dress in black, but your heart is pure as snow.”
“I do not know about that.” His lips met hers again. “My heart wants to do some wicked and depraved things to you tonight.”
Anticipation coiled within her. “Then perhaps you should, husband.”
“With pleasure.” Before she realized what he was about, he scooped her into his arms and turned, carrying her toward his chamber. “Tonight, I want you in my bed, where you belong.”
She buried her face against the strong cords of his throat, pressing a kiss there, where the throb of his pulse reminded her of how vital, alive, and necessary he was. How beloved. “I love you.”
He set her gently on her feet alongside his bed, and then his mouth was upon hers, fierce and hungry. Their hands traveled over each other’s bodies, tugging open knots, discarding silk, until there remained no more impediments between them. And then he lifted her onto his bed.
She had a moment to feast on the glorious sight of him naked—his long legs and thick thighs, broad shoulders and sculpted chest, the lean plane of his abdomen, and the long, beautiful jut of his cock—before he joined her, settling between her thighs. “You are mine, angel,” he said, dropping a kiss on her knee. “Here.” Higher, trailing delectable nibbles over her thigh. “Here.” Over her belly, worshiping one puckered nipple and then the other. “Here, too.” Back down her body he traveled, setting her aflame as he went. He kissed her mound. “Especially here.”
Words fled her as he suckled the hidden bud, drawing a taut burst of exquisite pleasure through her. His finger slid through her folds, probing gently at her entrance as he sucked and laved and nipped, working her into a frenzy. More. She needed more. Him inside her.
She twisted her hips off the bed, and he gave her what she wanted, his finger sliding wetly to the hilt. But it was not enough. He seemed to sense her building need, adding a second finger, gently using his teeth. Her core contracted instantly, a series of breathtaking spasms rocking through her as she spent.
He kissed his way up her body once more, over her ribs, across her breasts. He kissed above her madly beating heart. “And most importantly, here,” he murmured against her skin.
She caressed him everywhere she could. His shoulders, his chest, and then she grew daring enough to reach between them, taking him in her hand. He was hot and firm, the skin surprisingly silken. Touching his rigid manhood made a fresh ache pulse within her, a new onslaught of need.
The breath hissed from him, fluttering over her flesh. “Bloody hell, angel.”
“Do you like this?” she whispered.
“Yes.” He took her hand in his and showed her how to pleasure him.
He kissed her throat, kissed a path to her ear, nibbling at it until she shivered. His large body was atop hers, a welcome weight pressing her to the bed. She slid her hand over him, up and down, relishing her ability to make him groan and rock against her.
“I love you,” he said as he trailed his lips across her jaw.
They met in a kiss, open-mouthed and voracious, tongues tangling. She tasted herself on his tongue, mingling with his chocolate. Frederica sucked on his tongue, body angling against his, seeking more. Seeking everything. She wanted to consume him and to be consumed by him all at once.
He broke the kiss, pressing his forehead to hers. “Put me inside you.”
His sinful command sent a trickle of wetness between her thighs. Feeling bold, she guided him to where she ached. As one, they moved. His cock glided inside her. One thrust of his hips, and he was buried inside her as deep as he could go. She was full of him, stretched, and this time, there was no nip of pain, only the sweet rush of boundless pleasure.
He sealed their mouths again, and it was the kiss of possession. The kiss that said she was his and he was hers. It was the kiss that said they had both finally found their home in each other.
Duncan flexed his hips, beginning a rhythm that was torturously slow at first, allowing her body to accommodate his size. As she arched against him, demanding more, faster, he obeyed, thrusting in and out. They were one, mindless together. His fingers plucked at the sensitive bud he had already so thoroughly pleasured, and it was all she needed.
