Caro gulped back a laugh. “It would be extremely shocking.”
Eamon leaned over her, his fists coming to rest on either side of her, breath burning. “It would be for no one’s delectation but mine, believe me.”
Caro hooked a finger on his waistband, the daring in her rising once more. “Perhaps I’d like a sketch of you as well.”
Something raw flared in Eamon’s eyes. In several swift moves, he stripped her of slippers and stockings, then himself of the rest of his garments.
From the moment his arms had gone around her at the window the day he’d arrived, Caro had wanted this. She hadn’t realized it, then had denied it, but she’d wanted this beautiful man bared for her.
“Please,” she whispered, as he drew his strong hand down her body.
Eamon made a sound like a moan. He climbed quickly onto the bed and slid over her, supporting his weight on his arms.
“Caro, my angel.” His rumbling words coursed through her. “My duchess. My love.”
Caro had no words for him in return. She traced his cheek then slid her arms around him, coaxing him to her.
Eamon lowered himself, his blunt hardness landing with precision between her legs.
“Lord, forgive me,” he whispered, and then he filled her, his warm weight both comforting and completing her.
Chapter 21
Eamon forced down a groan. As he drew back for another thrust, Caro closed her eyes and tilted her head, passion flushing her cheeks.
This was heaven. Eamon’s heart pounded, his body roasting. Caro was beneath him, her arms around him taking away every hurt, every doubt, every lonely moment.
Each stroke into her drove him more wild, every little gasp she made stoking the frenzy higher. Caro lifted her hips, instinctively rocking against him, until Eamon was sighing her name, calling her sweet and love and my own.
There were other words he wanted to use, but she wasn’t ready for those, and he’d do nothing right now that would make her push him away.
Eamon wasn’t going anywhere, not for a long while.
“Please,” Caro gasped. Not to stop, Eamon could tell, by the way she seized his hips and pulled him harder against her.
She liked to plead with him. Eamon didn’t mind at all, happy to answer her desires.
He drove into her, the heat of her maddening him. This was deepest passion, sharing this untamed intimacy with the woman he’d so much wanted and ended up loving.
“Caro.” He tasted her name on his lips. “Love. Damn it, no…”
Blast it all—he’d wanted to make this last all night. Eamon abruptly slid out of Caro and spilled his seed into the handkerchief he’d dropped next to them for just that purpose.
The suddenness of it made him bereft, cold. Caro dragged in a shuddering breath, the shock of it startling her as well.
Eamon quickly wiped himself clean and returned to her, their next kisses moving from feverishly crazed to satisfyingly sweet to the slow brushes of afterglow.
Eamon tugged a coverlet from under Caro and wrapped it around them both. He burrowed into the cocoon with her, their kisses and touches taking them into drowsy contentment.
Hours later, Caro stretched her toes and let out a sound almost like a purr. She startled herself, never having heard such a thing come from her throat.
Eamon’s smile answered. He caressed her shoulder where it peeked outside the covers, his touch gentle but heated.
They were bundled into the bed, where Eamon had tucked them after the second time he’d loved her. The room had darkened, several of the candles burning out. It was relatively early in the night, however, the treacherous dawn still hours away.
“We could have an affaire de coeur, I suppose,” Caro murmured as she skimmed her fingers along Eamon’s strong arm. “If you’d like.”
Eamon’s laughter vibrated the bed. “Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
