So close, so close, so close.
She held her breath and gave him her tongue, and he moved against her, prolonging the moment until she was delirious with pleasure. Her release hit her fast and hard. She cried out into his kiss, her body trembling beneath the force as ripple after ripple of bliss tore through her.
He withdrew his touch and gripped himself, shoving his cock inside her with one thrust. His low, satisfied groan when he was seated to the hilt reverberated in the pulses she felt in her clitoris. Her body was so uniquely attuned to his. She could spend from nothing more than thinking about what they had done together as her own fingers moved over her intimate flesh.
Aubrey began making love to her slowly, passionately, exquisitely, as if they forever instead of just one stolen night in an abandoned cottage. He kissed her all the while, his free hand drifting to cup her breast as he moved in and out of her. The unique angle was glorious. He held her hips and buried himself in her again and again until she was climaxing once more, moaning helplessly into his lips.
He was not far behind her, the frenzied bursts of his movement telling her that he was ready as well. She sucked on his tongue, moaning. He withdrew from her body with a helpless groan, and she felt the hot spurt of his seed on her lower back. Their lips moved as one, still seeking, kissing, until they finally slowed, breathless and sated.
Rhiannon had never loved him more.
Nor could she recall a time in her life when she had ever been happier.
CHAPTER 14
Aubrey woke to late-morning sun spilling golden rays into the window, Rhiannon’s burnished tresses trailing across his bare chest, and the most acute sense of contentedness he’d ever known. She was slumbering serenely, her head on his chest above his heart, and somehow she had come to be lying on his right arm, which was presently numb.
He didn’t give a damn, and neither was he possessed of even the slightest inclination to move it.
Hell, he thought he might saw it off just to give her a softer place to sleep.
It was almost impossible to believe the effect she had on him. He didn’t care about anyone or anything else. Not the house party, not the erotic distractions he’d been hoping to find at Wingfield Hall prior to his arrival. Not his friendship with Whit or the Wicked Dukes Society itself. She was all that mattered to him, this wild, wonderful, forbidden hellion who was stubborn and bold and wicked.
Who was everything that called to him in a way no woman before her had.
She shifted against him, emitting a soft, breathy sound that told him she was still soundly asleep. He had a bit more time,then, to admire her uninterrupted, and he was going to take it. After today, the house party would all too soon come to an end, which meant he needed to seize every second he could. This paradise of theirs would soon be empty, the bed linens stripped and replaced by capable servants, the cottage closed up until a future house party and its guests made use of it.
A house party at which she would not be a guest. Because by then, she could well be a married woman. And even if she were a married woman who sought to join the club as a member, she was Whit’s sister. They would be forced to deny her.
No, this was his one chance.Theirone chance.
With his free hand—the one that hadn’t been rendered numb beneath her—he gently stroked his fingers over her unbound hair. The attraction they shared was damned rare. They connected, as if they were two halves of the same coin. Some part of him had always suspected that would be the way of it between them.
When she had made her debut in polite society, she had been just eighteen; he had scarcely taken note. Girls had never interested him, even when he’d been a lad of eighteen himself. But in the intervening years, she had become a woman. He had first noticed her about a year ago at a ball Whit had held in her honor.
She had been wearing her favorite color—pink, of course. He had seen her from behind and had begun plotting ways he could seduce her. And then she had turned, and he had seen her face, and to his utter shock, he had realized that Whit’s younger sister was two-and-twenty and she was no longer a girl but a woman.
He hadn’t spent the last year largely avoiding her for any other reason, save that magnetic pull he felt for her and the fact that she was Whit’s beloved, innocent sister. Instead, he had watched her from afar, admiring her stubborn determination, her easy wit, her graceful beauty, her boldness.
Yes, he had known he wouldn’t be able to resist her.
But he had failed to realize just how far his obsession with her would go. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he had warned Rhiannon against him. And yet, he still wouldn’t have believed himself capable of such disloyalty, ruining his friend’s sister.
And for what reason?
Oh, he had told himself his cause was noble. But in truth, he had wanted her for himself from the second he had spied her in the drawing room wearing that pink silk mask, and despite telling himself that he would send her safely home, he had selfishly wanted her to stay. And stay she had, thank God. Because now he had her. She was his.
Whilst he could have her.
“Mmm,” she hummed, stretching and beginning to come awake.
Disappointment sliced through him. She would soon move. He would have to leave this bed. And her. He didn’t want to go back to the main house, by God. He wanted to stay here with her. Forever.
But that last thought was maudlin and foolish.
Impossible, too.
“Good morning,” he told her softly, brushing the hair from her face.
