She stilled. “What are you saying, Roland?”
Beat, beat, beatwent his heart. Faster than when he performed his exercise regimes, or so it seemed. This was important.Shewas important.
“I love you.”
There. He had said it. His words, his voice. His truth. And much to his shame, his eyes burned as he thought of the impossibility of it all, that after all these years, she should at long last be his. He felt as if he had endured a hundred winters just to have this one, beautiful, brilliant summer.
Just to have her as his woman.
“You…love…me?” she asked.
Her hesitation filled him with trepidation. But in for a penny, in for a pound. He wanted her to know his true emotions. “I do. I never stopped loving you, Pippa.”
“Roland,” she whispered, her eyes filled with sadness. “I am so sorry. I never—”
He released her hand over his heart and pressed a finger to her lips, hushing her. “Stop. I do not want your apologies. All I do want is for you to know how I feel. How I have always felt, from the moment our paths first crossed. You stole my heart that summer. There has never been another woman who could compare to you, nor will there ever be.”
“Oh,” she said.
One word. One syllable. His heart was crushed. She did not return his feelings; he had prepared himself for the possibility. But he had not prepared himself for the notion that she would notwanthis feelings.
How lowering.
How—
Her mouth crashed into his. Her arms went around his neck. She kissed him furiously, carnally. Her lips were so demanding and forceful upon his that their teeth clacked together. It was raw, it was real, and best of all, she had not denied him. His love had not repelled her or frightened her.
Thank the Lord.
And the Great Spirit.
And all the goodness in the world. Fortune’s wheel, too, which had finally decided to give him a good turn. At long bloody last.
He held her to him, kissing her back with every modicum of longing and love and desire he possessed. He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her, until his cock was high and hard, demanding attention between them. Prodding the softness of her belly.
His hands were on her everywhere, caressing, admiring. She was so smooth and soft and warm and vital. So precious. So beloved. He found her waist, the small of her back, the dimple above her rump. And her bottom…Christ. He cupped her arse cheeks and ground her against him for their mutual benefit while their kisses grew more heated.
When at last the kiss ended, she fell back on her heels, watching him through heavy-lidded eyes, her lips swollen. “I love you too, Roland.”
Impossible.
Incredible.
Pippa loved him.
Her words hit him with the force of a blow. Had he not already been on his knees on the bed with her, he likely would have fallen to them. He had not been expecting to hear she returned his feelings. Hell, he had been too damned afraid to hope she might ever care for himsomeday in the expanse of the future they would share.
But this? Now?
He could not sufficiently express his joy. So he kissed her again until they were breathless.
Her fingers replaced his on the knot of his belt, and she opened it at last. Together, they freed him of the robe. He was on fire for her. Longing and emotion and passion swelled into a crescendo. He wanted her so much, yearning was a fierce ache deep within. Her hands were everywhere, flitting over his chest, his shoulders and arms. And lower, down his abdomen until her curious fingers encircled him.
It was as unexpected as it was delicious. A decadent bolt of desire struck him as she stroked him from root to tip. He could have spent then and there, in her dainty hand. But that was not the way he wanted this night to go.
No.
“I want to make love to you slowly,” he said on a groan as she stroked him once more, “to worship you and savor you. But if you keep touching me that way, I am going to lose control.”
