Alexander didn’t speak. He simply stared at her, his green eyes darkening until the irises were nearly swallowed by his pupils. The electricity between them was a physical weight, a thick, humming tension that made the lace of her nightgown feel like it was scorching her skin.
He looked at her mouth, then back to her eyes, his jaw working as if he were fighting an invisible war. Then?—
He reached out, his large hand cupping the back of her head, and pulled her forward. His mouth crashed onto hers with a frantic, primitive force that nearly sent her reeling.
It was an annihilation. He tasted of the scotch he’d been drinking and a desperate, starving hunger that matched her own. Diana let out a broken sound against his lips, her hands flying to his bare chest, her fingers digging into the firm, heat-seared muscle as she tried to pull him even closer.
He backed her into the room, his foot kicking the door shut with a heavythudthat echoed in her heart.
He was devouring her, his tongue bold and demanding, claiming every inch of her mouth as if he were trying to memorize herfrom the inside out. Diana answered him with equal ferocity, her body arching against his, her breasts straining against the thin lace of her gown as they pressed into his hard, naked chest.
Without breaking the kiss, Alexander’s hands slid down to her thighs. He gripped her and hoisted her up. Diana wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively, her heels digging into the small of his back as she pulled his face deeper into the kiss. He groaned—a low, guttural sound of pure need—and carried her toward the bed.
He laid her back against the cool linens, but the chill lasted only a second before his body was over hers, a heavy, muscular shadow. His hands were frantic now, stripping the silk and lace from her body until she lay bare to his gaze. He didn’t stop to look; he was a man possessed. His mouth trailed a scorching path down her jaw, lingering on the sensitive column of her neck before moving to her breasts.
When his tongue flicked over one aching nipple, Diana’s eyes rolled back, her fingers tangling in his sandy hair as she sobbed his name.
He moved lower, his kisses marking her stomach, his beard grazing her skin with an exquisite, stinging friction.
When his mouth finally reached her core, the world narrowed to the searing, humid point of contact between them. Diana’s breath hitched in a jagged, broken rhythm, her lungs suddenly forgotten as her heart thundered against her ribs like a trapped bird.
He didn’t rush; he was punishingly patient. He tasted her with a devastating focus, his tongue slow as it traced the sensitive folds of her skin. He found the small, aching center of her pleasure and began to stroke her with a rhythmic, swirling pressure that made her entire body go taut.
She found herself bucking instinctively against the pillows, her hips lifting to meet his mouth as a low, desperate sound was torn from her throat. Her hands flew wide, her fingers clawing into the fine linen sheets, twisting the fabric into white-knuckled knots as the tension in her belly coiled tighter and tighter.
Every flick of his tongue sent a fresh jolt of white heat through her limbs. The amber firelight of the room seemed to bleed into her vision until the shadows of the bedchamber vanished, replaced by streaks of gold and fire that consumed her senses. She was drowning in the scent of him and the liquid, honeyed heat of her own surrender.
He paused, his weight braced on his forearms, hovering over her like a storm about to break. His green eyes locked onto hers, dark with a turbulent, emerald fire that seemed to strip away her every defense. The look in them was one of such raw, unfiltered adoration—a mix of reverence and possessive hunger—that it hit her with a physical weight.
He reached down, his hand sliding over the curve of her hip before his fingers found the damp, honeyed heat of her. With agonizing slowness, he slid a finger inside, testing the slick, tight depth of her.
Diana’s breath left her in a shattered sob; it was the most amazing sensation she had ever known. It made her feel as though the hollow ache she had carried for months was finally, miraculously being filled. She felt her inner walls pulse against him, a desperate, rhythmic clenching that pleaded for more.
“Alexander, please,” she gasped, her voice a fractured thread of sound.
Her hips lifted instinctively, arching off the mattress to seek the friction she was starving for.
He didn’t make her wait. Bracing himself above her, his muscles corded and slick with sweat, he drove deep inside her in one smooth, devastating thrust.
The sensation was overwhelming—a blunt, heavy invasion that filled the ache she had carried for a year until she felt stretched to the very limit of her pleasure. Diana’s breath left her in a shattered sob; it was a profound, grounding fullness that made the world outside the bedchamber vanish entirely.
He moved with a relentless, beautiful harmony, his hips striking against hers with a rhythmic force that sent white-hot sparks dancing across her vision. Every deep, driving pulse created a friction so intense it felt like a physical wire being wound tighter and tighter in her gut.
Diana was drowning in the sensation, her head thrashing against the pillows as he pushed her higher and higher. She reached for him, her fingernails digging into the powerful breadth of hisshoulders, her voice joining his in a chorus of ragged, guttural moans that echoed through the silent room.
The rhythm became frantic, a desperate race toward a shattering end, his scent of cedar and heat filling her senses until there was nothing left but the raw, electric power of him claiming her at last.
Every nerve ending was screaming, every pulse point thrumming with the force of her impending surrender.
Then, it snapped.
A violent, shimmering climax tore through her, a tidal wave of gold and fire that shattered her world into a thousand brilliant pieces. Her vision blurred into a hazy darkness as she cried out his name, the sound echoing the sheer, exquisite agony of her pleasure. She felt him shudder violently against her, his own release hitting him with the force of a crashing sea.
He let out a low, ruined sound and collapsed into her, his face buried in the hollow of her neck as his heart hammered a frantic, matching rhythm against her own.
For a long time, the only sound in the room was the heavy, synchronized thudding of their hearts. The coldness of the gala was gone, replaced by a heat that felt permanent.
Alexander didn’t pull away. He shifted, pulling her flush against his side and drawing the heavy quilt over their tangled limbs. Hebegan to stroke her hair with a tenderness that made tears prick at her eyes—a slow, reverent motion that soothed the frantic energy still humming in her veins.
