They tumbled into his little sanctuary already entangled, mouths and tongues and hands, caressing and tugging.
Her dress fell away first, and she left it behind her in the central room, stepping out of one slipper and then the other on her way to the bedroom. The gold glinted against her skin, shimmering silk fluttering with every move she made.
The corset blended into it, a mirage of singularity, waiting to be unlaced, hiding another layer of sumptuous beauty beneath, and all the while, Roland walked backward, unwilling to take his eyes off every revealed inch of Mae in gilded seduction.
He reached out, capturing her at the waist and dragging her against him, claiming her mouth as his hands slid over the silk, reaching for the ties that held the corset in place and tugging them gently, the little amber beads at the end of each string clacking together as he worked them loose.
He stood back, watching his handiwork, his gaze shadowed with want at the way her body changed with each pull and twist of his hands, until finally he could pull the structured boning away and look at her in nothing but the fine, liquid smoothness of gold fabric, clinging to every detail of her flesh in the twilight.
She grinned, running her hands over his shoulders and giving him a little shove so that he stumbled back and found himself seated on the edge of his bed, his hands coming up to trace the lines of her hips through the gold.
She climbed into his lap, just as she had that night at dinner, sinking her fingers into his hair and running them down to tug away the polite little tie he’d worn there to present himself respectably at the hospital this morning. She tossed it away, shaking loose his glorious, beautiful mane, and rolled her tongue into his mouth as though she wanted to share the taste of victory with him.
He moaned into it, rucking up the golden hem of her chemise, baring the smooth, red-brown expanse of her thighs to the low light and the attentions of his freckled fingers.
She pushed her knees into his mattress and rose, reaching down to untie his trousers, alight with the way he gasped, at the way his hands faltered and his body shuddered with surprise as she stroked him through the fabric, reaching through the loosened waistband and running her hand along the length of his cock.
She pulled him free, unwilling to stop kissing him, and sank back down so that they could join this way, still clothed, still partially respectable, and entirely, completely belonging to one another.
His hands circled her waist, holding her steady as she began to move atop him, gasping between the indulgent tastes she took of his mouth. She clawed at his shirt, managing to free him of his cravat and toss it to the floor, kissing her way down his jaw and to his throat as she filled herself with him, as she found wholeness in this way.
“Mae,” he whispered, his hands sliding along the length of her spine, bunching in the golden fabric as they traveled up and then down again, filling with the round shape of her backside as he guided her movement and pace. “God, Mae.”
“Roland,” she murmured, arching up as the sensation began to build, to cluster in the center of her stomach, to crackle and simmer the way it had before. “I love you.”
She hadn’t meant to say it, but the words themselves seemed to snap something in him. He bucked up against her, pulling her back down to crush his mouth under hers as he ground her hips into his own.
It pushed her fast and relentlessly over the cusp of her own pleasure, her gripping hands turning to claws and her gasping breaths turning to cries. She unraveled in his lap, explosive perfection bursting from within her, and it seemed that her own pleasure brought his as well.
They held one another, movement frantic and then slowing, gradual and grinding and desperate, until there was nothing but silence and clinging and the sound of ragged, raw breath punctuated with the occasional gasping sound of wonder.
She pulled very slowly back when she could and kissed him once more, gently. “I love you,” she said again, her eyes heavy with the knowledge that he was still inside her.
“I love you,” he returned, staring up at her with what appeared to be awe, his fingers still lost in the gold silk.
They shared one kiss. And then another. And then a last one before reluctantly untangling themselves from one another.
He supported her by the waist, stroking her shoulders and neck as he pulled her onto the bed, her back against his front, and nuzzled his nose against her hair, giving a deep, contented breath.
She thought, if he hadn’t spoken, she might have drifted off to sleep then and there, so content and spent was she.
“Mae,” he said softly. “There is something on the bedside table there. Will you hand it to me?”
“Hm?” she said, blinking sleepily. She pushed herself up an inch, leaning forward, and peered at the table, her blood flashing warm and then going still in her veins.
There, on the little wooden shelf, sat a silver thimble circled with two golden wedding bands crafted inAsantegold.
She reached out, hesitating because her hands were shaking again.
Again.
Because of Roland Reed.
“Mae,” he said from behind her, and she could hear the smile in his voice. “I’ve a dare to make.”
She turned back to him, her hand still extended over the thimble, trembling.
“There is a ship departing at the end of the week,” he said. “One of three, each with a captain happy to marry an eloping couple, once they reach international waters, of course.”
