He ripped the pillow out of her hand and tossed it to the floor, then tackled her, pinning her to the bed and kissing her hard.
She gave a little yelp, but then she gave in, her hands possessive at his nape, her mouth open for his feasting, and her body rolling to meet his. She was every bloody thing that mattered. And she was his.
Finally.
There was time enough to sink inside her. He was already hard. He nipped her neck. She gasped and pushed him away, wiggling out from under him and plopping off the bed. She hurried to the window, clutching the blanket around her. He groaned, slinging an arm over his eyes. He could quote Shakespeare again, but he didn’t want to make hernervous.
He rolled onto one elbow, propping himself up. “I’m not going to be able to convince you to come back to bed, am I?”
“You must leave.”
He couldn’t help it. “I love you.”
Her lashes fluttered, her gaze faltered. “A-are you sure?”
“Of course.”
“B-but… I’m not…”
“Not what?”
“Lovable. You are the only one who’s ever… Who’s ever said that to me.”
“Said what?”
“I love you.” The smallest whispered words.
Hell. He left the bed and stalked toward her. He grasped the blankets pooling around her feet, covering her body and bare, perfect breasts, and fashioned a toga from them, draped across her shoulder, tied around her waist. She watched with a laugh on her lips, merriment banishing shadows in her eyes.
“You’re wrong,” he said. “You’re the most lovable woman I’ve ever known. In fact, you’re a goddess.” He put his hands on his hips.
In the sunlight streaming in from the window, wearing a mess of rumpled sheets, her hair a fiery, tangled crown, she was more beautiful than anything he’d ever seen. He bent at the waist and shoved a shoulder into her belly. She yelped as he straightened, throwing her over his shoulder. Her laughter bounced against his back where she bounced upside down.
Until he sat her on a little writing desk in a corner of the room where dust danced on sunlight. She caught her breath, and he left her, throwing open the window to stick his head outside and inspect the climbing vines there. He ripped two flowers from the vine and returned to her. Carefully, he placed one behind each of her ears. Pink, pretty blooms to match her pink, blooming cheeks.
“You are Titania, the fairy queen, and I would dedicate therest of my piddly human life to serving you.” He tilted her head to the side and kissed her jaw. “Adoring you.” He kissed the curve where neck met shoulder. “Worshipping you.” He finally found her lips and made the kiss last, put all his love into it, tried to convince her to love him too.
“If I am Titania, does that make you Bottom? You certainly possess a nice one.”
“I’m pleased you noticed. Yours is quite fine, as well.” He squeezed it, wishing to do away with the sheet, needing skin against skin right here at this desk, her bent over it, him driving into her from behind.
But she was sliding off it, wandering away from him, the sheet trailing behind her like the long train of a court gown. “My parents are coming today. This morning.”
“Then let us dress. We’ll meet in the music room and wait for their arrival.”
She nodded, distracted, and he slipped out of her room into the quiet hallway. He met no one on the way to his chamber where he washed and dressed and saw in the looking glass that he was grinning like a besotted fool.
The sun spilled into the music room in a glorious pink-yellow wave, and he sat at the pianoforte, closed his eyes, and let the music come. She was going to choose him. And she might even love him. Even if she could not yet say it. She would one day.
He heard her footsteps and opened his eyes. She greeted him with a soft smile and sat on the bench beside him.
He kissed her shoulder. “This is a pretty gown.” It was pale green and fluttery and made her seem so very touchable.
“Thank you. I got it in Paris. I have another in a different color.”
“Youhavediscovered a love of frippery, haven’t you.”
She shrugged and smiled and blushed prettily,and he kissed her shoulder again, his fingers still dancing across the keys.
