Chapter Eleven
Pru did nothave to tell him twice.
His lips were on hers before she even finished the last word of her sentence. Because he was ravenous for her. So hungry. Their mouths moved as one, open and voracious. Tongues mated. Teeth nipped. His cock was harder than it had ever been, buried into the softness of her belly when all he wanted to do was sink it inside her.
He could not, of course.
Nor would he.
There would be a wedding first. He was determined not to take Pru’s maidenhead until she was truly his wife. But tonight was a celebration of love, of each other. He could still not believe, even as her delectable body pressed into his and the sweet summery scent of her filled his senses, that she had agreed to be his. That she loved him too.
It was almost too good to be real.
But the desire roaring through him, demanding to be answered, proved he was not imagining this. He would go as far as he dared before returning to his chamber. And by the morning light, he would convince Devereaux Winter to allow him to marry Pru with as much haste as possible. Because he wanted to begin the rest of his life right bloody now.
He would start here, with venerating the woman he loved in the best way he knew how, by showing her how much he loved her. Pru wore only a night rail, but he needed it gone. He wanted there to be no barrier between him and her glorious body for the first time. Though he had more than his fair share of lovers in his past, he had never been in love with them.
Slowly, he raised her hem, all the way to her waist. Meanwhile, his lips never left hers. She tasted of the sweetness of the syllabub they had enjoyed for dessert. He wanted to devour her. Everything with Pru felt new and alive and fresh in a way he could not have conceived. Gratitude swept over him, for this beautiful woman in his life, for her generous heart. For the love she gave so freely and selflessly.
But he reminded himself he could not simply tear the nightdress from his beloved tyro. No, indeed. He would have to proceed slowly, exercising caution and grace. With great reluctance, he tore his lips from hers, staring down into her beautiful face.
“Pru,” he rasped. “I need to feel you. I promise you, I will not take things too far. But if I do not have you naked in the next five seconds, I shall die.”
It was not an exaggeration.
His heart was pounding, and all the blood in his body had surged to his rigid cock.
He was desperate to feel her soft, silken curves without a barrier, from head to toe.
She saved him from imminent demise, however, by grasping the hem he had raised and hauling the night rail over her head herself. There was a flutter of fabric dropping to the floor, and then in the low light of the moon seeping through the window dressings, he spied the creamy swells of her breasts.
Ash was on her, kissing her again, weighing her breasts in his palms. Her nipples were already hard, the buds a sensual invitation he could not resist. He kissed his way down her throat and then latched on to one, sucking greedily.
She moaned, her fingers sliding into his hair, tightening.
He would never tire of how deliciously uninhibited she was. Thank the Lord she was a sensual creature. Thank the Lord she washis. And she loved him. That knowledge was still too new. Still too good to be true.
Ash sucked the peak of her other breast into his mouth next, then flicked his tongue over it before releasing it. Puckering his lips, he blew cool air over the taut bud. She made a sound, part purr, part growl. And it spurred him on. He caught her nipple in his teeth and tugged.
“Harder,” she said.
Nay.Surely he had misheard her. He released her nipple with a lusty, wet pop.
“Pardon?”
“Do it again,” she ordered him, guiding him back to her breast. “Harder this time.”
Christ.The desire thundering through him could not be contained. There was nothing more carnal and delicious than Pru taking command of her own pleasure. He took her nipple in his teeth and gently nipped.
Her fingers tugged his hair, and the mixture of painful pleasure had him on edge. If he did not soon unbutton the fall of his breeches, he would spend within them like a callow youth.
“Not enough,” she whispered. “Bite it.”
Fucking hell.
This woman would be the death of him. Even so, it would be the most pleasurable death imaginable. “Your servant, Miss Winter.”
He bit.
