“Can I take that as a yes?” he grunted, sliding downward, grabbing her hip and hitching one leg onto his haunch.
“What?” she rasped.
“May I finish this?”
“There is a... finish?” she asked.
He laughed, a painful, choked sort of sound. “Oh yes.”
Without thinking, she thrust against him again and he swore and looked down, repositioning himself between her legs. She whimpered at the loss of the contact, but he moved his hand to the same spot, and she moaned.
“Typically the finish comes... after more time. But you are so bloody responsive and I’m overcome. I—”
And now he left off talking again, looked down, made some adjustment with their bodies. He moved his hand and she felt another pressure, hard and demanding—better.
How could this be better?she wondered. Nothing was better than the previous thing... until it was.
“Duchess?” he asked, his voice a groan.
Drew moaned and thrust up.
“Drew?” he demanded, breathless, desperate.
She couldn’t answer, she could only burn.
“Will you take me?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” she panted, canting up.
Lachlan swore, leaned in, and thrust.
Drew felt a tightness, a fullness, and a tearing sort of pain pierced the haze of pleasure. She sucked in a breath. He fell forward, balancing on his elbows, his face inches from hers. They were both panting.
Her body felt strung so very tautly, like the tightest string on a violin. He was also taut, she could feel the tension and pent-up . . . pent-up—something was so very pent—and his face was tight with something like agony.
She whispered, “What happens now?”
“Now,” he breathed, “we wait.”
“Wait for what?” A whisper.
“For you to relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Willyourelax?” she asked. The moment of pain had chased away some of the mind-numbing pleasure, and she could think again. She found herself full of questions.
“I will not relax,” he informed her. He shifted ever so slightly, and Drew felt a tiny pang of sensation, a distant cousin of the pleasure she’d felt before.
Her eyes flew to his. In a whisper, she asked, “Am I finished?”
“No.” A grunt. “Sorry. Give me one more second to garner my self-control. I am not accustomed to virgins.”
She narrowed her eyes, not caring for all of the non-virgins to whom hewasaccustomed.
“I’m going to kiss you, but I’mnotgoing to move.” It was a declaration and a vow.
