On the desk, she was at exactly the right height for him to enter her, and so he pressed himself, just gently, to her wetness.
At the contact, something within him unlocked. He felt, for the first time in his life, that he was truly where he was supposed to be.
“Please,” she said. “Please.”
He eased into her soft, tight core and he thought he might pass out from the pleasure. He couldn’t stop himself any longer and he rocked out of her a bit before easing himself in to the hilt. She whimpered as he drew, slowly, in and out, and then he found, with his hand, in those luscious curls, her pleasure point. He rubbed her as he rocked inside of her. He felt her tighten around him until he was close to spilling. He had to slow.
“Don’t stop.”
He put his thumb on her bottom lip. “My greedy girl.”
She smiled up at him, in that cheeky way he loved. He almost came right there.
Instead, he took her into a kiss, savoring the sensation of himself inside of her—impossibly tight, impossibly wet—and her lips on his.
He started to move once more, moving gradually faster and faster, until they found their pace. She placed her hands on his shoulders and pressed herself upwards, so that he could drive even deeper into her. At the extra pressure, he swore once more, and looked deep into her eyes, pumping into her.
He reached down between her legs and found her clit swollen with pleasure, so ready for his touch it was obscene.
The moment he touched her there, she came apart, crying out his name.
He knew he couldn’t stay inside of her for a moment longer. He withdrew, spilling on her exposed thighs and curls, swearing, his body rocked by the pleasure she had given him.
He had had many women. But that had been the most sensual, soul-bending experience of his life.
And now that he had had her, it was clear. He knew he would never stop wanting her. He would never be able to let her go.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Before John hadcome to Halston Place, Catherine had had a plan for her life. Somehow, she would find financial security for herself and Lady Wethersby and Ariel. She would settle down to her research and her role as surrogate sister and daughter.
But now everything had changed.
She and John had made love in the cursed study, the scene of the original crime, the scene of the scandal that had brought them together. In doing so, they had not only transformed that space, but her life as she knew it.
In doing so, she found that that context, the history that had kept them apart, didn’t matter to her anymore.
She didn’t care what his father and her aunt had done. She didn’t care howherfather had just made it worse or howhismother had just compounded the ruin.
No, all she wanted now was John.
Because she was a different person now than she had been before. Now, she was truly his. She didn’t want to go back to her old plan.
“John,” she said, after they had cleaned up and redressed, taking his hand. “I—”
She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know how to explain how she felt.
He looked back at her.
“I know.” He brought her knuckles to his mouth.
When they gained the hallway, it was late, and he still had hold of her hand. She knew, without him having to say, that they were going to his room. She knew, there, they would re-experience the wild pleasure of minutes before.
As they rounded the corner to the corridor where their rooms lay, Catherine nearly collided with Mrs. Morrison.
“Your Grace!” she shouted. “Miss Aster! How you startle me!”
The old woman clutched her chest in surprise. Instantly, Catherine felt like a schoolgirl caught out of bed by a particularly stern headmistress.
