He was guiding her. Taking care of her. Driving her until, suddenly, Clarissa felt deep muscles tighten, followed by a sense that she was falling into an abyss, right before the most indulgent, whirling sense of sensual gratification took hold of her.
She cried his name. His arms tightened and then, in one hard thrust, he joined her, releasing his seed to flow through her. She arched, her head on the pillow, reveling in the sensation of taking him in.
It was done. She was his wife in word and in deed. They had become one. And that was the miracle of all this. They were one. He belonged to her; she belonged to him.
Mars fell to his side, rolling her over on top of him. Her hair spilled over his shoulders. She lay on his chest, unable to move, the aftermath rolling through her until she was spent, her body as boneless and languid as a cat.
He took her hand, kissed it, and pulled it up over his head. Their lips met. The kiss was sweet as if they were savoring this moment.
Finally, “Is it always like this?” she had to ask. At last she understood why poets sang love’s praises.
His gray eyes met hers. “It’s never been like this.”
Clarissa swelled with pride at her lover’s praise.
He leaned over, gently lowering her to the mattress. “How do you feel?” He sounded anxious.
Clarissa stretched. “I feel... as if that is the most wonderful thing to do ever.”
Mars acted as if he’d held his breath in worry, but at her response, he burst out in laughter. “It is,” he assured her. “The most wonderful thing ever.”
Then he gathered her into his arms, his legs intertwined with hers, and they fell asleep.
And that was the most wonderful thing ever as well.
The night before, Kate had offered Clarissa a dress to wear for the Harrington rout. She claimed to have dozens of gowns in her dressing room, and one of them should work for Clarissa with a few alterations, such as a shorter hem.
It was also a good time for a cozy chat with a person whom Clarissa admired very much.
“You and Mars act happy,” Kate said as they went through the gowns. “And is it my imagination or do you seem to have a bit more of a twinkle in your eye than usual?”
Clarissa couldn’t reply. All she could do was grin. She felt like a fool being so silly. Still, that morning, she and Mars had lingered in bed as late as possible. She couldn’t have her fill of touching him, holding him, feeling him inside her. Or, as she confessed it to him, she dearly enjoyed a good “shag,” a comment that had made him laugh with pleasure.
Oh, yes, that word. She thought it the best word in the world, especially since their lovemaking seemed to bind them all the more to each other.
There was a playfulness about their joining. An excitement in the joy of discovery. In fact, she couldn’t wait to be done with this dress expedition to return to his arms.
The distrust and resentment she’d once nursed against him had been replaced with faith. He was not the ogre she’d once thought him. His love for his daughter had let her see a softer side to him. Now, she held hope for their future because she’d found where shebelonged in this somewhat callous world—and that was in his arms.
“You love him, don’t you?” Kate said.
“I don’t even know what love is,” Clarissa had to say. She wasn’t ready to answer questions. It was all still too new.
“Love is what gives your face that funny, melty look whenever you are around him.”
“Do I look melty?”
“Verymelty. He appears a bit melty, too.”
“Do you think?” Her friend’s observation pleased her and softened her voice.
“Oh, absolutely,” Kate said. “Brandon even said last night that he thinks Mars has met his match. And we are happy for it. He has needed someone by his side for a long time.”
But did Mars feel for her what she felt for him?
Lovewas a big word. A scary one... and apt description for what Clarissa felt. No, Mars was not perfect, and she wouldn’t want him to be anything other than himself. But the man he was made her happy.
Kate hugged her. “Don’t be afraid of it. He is a good man, one of my favorites.”
