There was onlyone word that would form on her lips.
“Yes,” she told him.
Whateverthiswas, she wanted it. With him.
She was going to give her body to the Earl of Hertford. Her virginity as well. She should be ashamed of herself. She should put an end to it before they went too far. But something had changed.Shehad changed. It was as if the journey down the hall in the darkness had made her into someone else.
All her life, she had always listened to her brother. She had never been reckless like her sister Bea, never longing for romance like Christabella. She was the one who felt too much, who had worn her heart on her sleeve until it had been ruthlessly broken.
But she did not want to be that Eugie any longer.
She wanted to be the Eugie who was naked in the Earl of Hertford’s bed, the woman he worshiped with his hands and mouth. The one he wanted.
His jaw was rigid as he looked down at her, his hazel eyes taking her breath in the warm glow of the candlelight. The cords in his neck were tense. His strong arms were flexed, and she could see so much of him, so many delicious details: the shadow of whiskers on his chin, the whorls of hair on his chest, the veins in his upper arms, the taut ridges of his abdomen.
“Are you certain?” he asked, his baritone part growl, part silken seduction.
It made her shiver.
“Yes,” she said again, but then something occurred to her. She did not know his Christian name, and they were as intimate as man and woman could be, flesh on flesh, his body about to join hers. “What shall I call you?”
“Cam,” he gritted.
“Cam,” she repeated.
She liked the sound of it, the shortness of it. She liked the way he looked, his big body dominating hers, her legs spread, his manhood protruding from his opened breeches. He took himself in hand as she watched, gripping the long, rigid length. How beautiful it was, that part of him, and she wanted to touch it. Would have, had he not settled himself against her and thrust it inside.
One pump of his hips. She tensed at the invasion, at the unexpected feeling of it. He was too large. Or she was too small. There was a burning pinch, a throb.
He held himself still, staring down at her with a strange expression on his face. “You are a virgin.”
Of course she was.Had been.What had he thought? What had she expected him to think, with her brazen behavior?
Shame swirled through her, chasing the pleasure. “Cam,” she began.
“I am sorry,” he said. “I have never… Have I hurt you?”
Yes.
“No,” she lied. What hurt the most was on the inside. Her heart. Or perhaps her pride.
“Let me make it better,” he said.
She wondered how he could.
But then, his mouth was on her. He was sucking her nipples, and his touch moved between them to stroke her. He moved slowly, withdrawing, sliding through the slickness of her channel. The pleasure returned. Desire was a knot, building, tangling her up.
He thrust again, pressing deeper, and the pain dimmed. The discomfort was replaced by only a wondrous fullness. The sensation of him inside her was nothing short of exquisite.
His mouth was on her neck again, sucking. Devouring her as if she were the finest sweet. His breaths were harsh and hot on her skin. She gave in to the sensation, to the need. Everything else fled. There was only the two of them, moving as one. She learned how to undulate her hips beneath him, chasing more, chasing the pleasure building to a new crescendo.
Her release slammed into her with a force that had her body bowing, her head back. A cry was on her lips, and then his mouth was on hers, swallowing the cry. His tongue was slipping inside, tasting her as his body continued to slide in and out of hers. Faster now. The thrill of it licked down her spine. She tasted herself on his mouth. On his tongue.
As the last of her spasms subsided, he jerked himself from her body, gripped his shaft, and spent his seed into the bedclothes. There was blood on his hand, faint traces of it on his manhood. Hers, she realized as he rolled to his back at her side.
She felt alive as she never had before. Her body ached and tingled in strange places. Her breaths were ragged and harsh. Languor stole over her, and she was suddenly drowsy. He gathered her to his side, pressed a kiss to the top of her head in a tender gesture that pricked her heart.
But then he said the last words she wanted to hear.
