“No moreshoulds, Imogen. Speak plainly. Tell me, ‘I want to go,’ and I will let you. But you must meet my eyes when you say it.”
Her throat tightened. “I…” Her words faltered, tripping over themselves.
“Tell me, Imogen. What do youwant?” His voice was soft but insistent, each word charged. “Speak, and it shall be yours.”
She looked down at his hands, her own trembling as she inched toward them, the faintest reach betraying her.
“You,” she breathed. “I want you.”
“Stay right where you are, angel,” he said, his voice husky, yet gentle.
She froze in place at that last word,angel, and then his mouth was on hers, bringing her back to life.
The kiss was desperate, born of the raw adrenaline of the night and all that had weathered, of all their days of wanting since she walked into his house and didn’t look back.
His lips explored hers, searching and hungry. He licked them slowly as he continued worshipping her mouth with a kiss that was as hard as it was tender.
In all her reading of romance and love, Imogen had no idea that a kiss could feel likethis.
Ambrose backed her flat against the wall, his hands tangling in her hair. Imogen groaned into his mouth at the pressure, only growing as he pressed his chest against her. Her arms wound up around his neck as she stood on her tiptoes, pulling him even more flush against her.
She had never wanted or needed anything or anyone so badly in her life.
“You are a siren… you bewitch me, Imogen,” he rasped.
“You are everything right now,” she cried and realized quickly that was all the encouragement he needed.
His hands traveled down from her hair, gripping her waist, pulling her hips into his own with a pleasant jerk. It made the blood that was pumping through her veins rush in between her legs as her whole body began to tingle. She swore she could even see stars behind her eyelids as she kept them shut tight, trying to memorize every touch.
“This is heaven,” she whispered.
“You have no idea,” he growled as he nipped at her neck. “Let me give you a taste.”
The heat between them was staggering, and she could hardly breathe as he kept kissing her repeatedly, occasionally nipping her earlobe or licking her collarbone before returning to her soft lips.
When she felt she might lose her mind completely, he backed away and looked down at her. He bent to his knees and grabbed the edge of her nightdress, pulling it up slowly until it was around her waist. She could barely breathe as he took his hand and reached in between her legs, touching the deepest, mosttender part of her. Never had she been touched by a man, nor would she ever be the same after this moment.
“Is this all right?” He asked as he began to plunge his fingers inside of her, using her wetness to massage her reverently. “Does this feel good for you, angel?”
“Oh… Y-yes,” she cried as she bucked her hips against him. “Please. M-more.”
“Your wish is my command,” he cried as he enhanced his pace, plunging deeper.
Imogen drew him closer, her breath hitching as the world outside the room ceased to exist. She wrapped her leg firmly around him, anchoring herself as the friction sparked a heat that hummed beneath her skin. Every movement was a silent plea, a desperate search for the release that had been building between them for so long. She had never known such a feeling and was overwhelmed by her need for release and for him.
Ambrose met her gaze in a shared look, and the last of her restraint shattered. She bent forward and moaned into his neck as she kissed him, the tension coiling tighter until it was pulled to its limit. When the wave finally broke, it was all-encompassing. She held on tight, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he plunged deeper inside of her. A magnificent climax swept through her, a pulsing, shimmering heat that radiated from her core and reached down to the very tips of her toes. For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of their mingled breath and the slow, steady settling of the stars.
This is everything…
“Ambrose,” she breathed against his skin as she came back down, her hair loosening as she shook her head, and the pale blue ribbon floating down to the floor.
“Imogen… God, Imogen,” he groaned. The sound vibrated through her entire body as she felt his hardness against her stomach.
Something shifted then. Perhaps it was the sound of their names, spoken like that, so intimate, so forbidden. It hit her like a bucket of ice water. Ambrose stiffened, his forehead dropping onto her shoulder, and they both gasped, hearts hammering out of sync, desperate and frantic.
He dropped the flimsy hem of her night gown, then drew her close again. One last embrace before he slowly released her. His hands lingered for a heartbeat longer, trembling against her back.
When he finally looked at her, his eyes were dark and fathomless, like the Atlantic at night: equal parts passion, fear, and awe.
