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Now his thumb was pressing her in a certain spot so deliciously that she could hardly stand it.

Suddenly, the clock struck midnight downstairs. He froze, as if reconsidering what they were doing, what he was doing.

Oh no, she was having none of that. Grabbing his arm, she pulled him toward her. “It’s Noel’s Eve, dearest,” she whispered. “What better time to make me yours?”

That was all it took to have him climbing onto the bed between her legs and reaching down to fit himself inside her. If one could call it that. When he slid his … his member fully inside her, she felt … uncomfortable, to say the least.

But not for long. He pulled her knees up, so that she felt more comfortable, and then he began to move in slow, silken thrusts that had her grasping his arms and hanging on for dear life.

His eyes closed. “God, sweetheart, you feel so good. This is … undoubtedly the best … Christmas present I’ve … ever had.”

“Is it?” she choked out. It wasn’t the best she’d ever had.

He opened his eyes to gaze at her with that dark, knowing stare he sometimes had. “It will get better, love … I promise. I’ll … make it better.”

Love? Did he mean that the way it sounded?

Then he braced himself on one arm while he used his other hand to press her again where they were joined. Fire leapt inside her once more, and she grabbed his upper arms to hold on to him as he plunged in and out of her in quickening strokes.

“Ohhh … Noel …”

“Better … now?”

He’d asked her that, too, after her tears had begun to subside earlier. The sweetness of it—of his calling her “love”—made her heart soar. “Yes, my darling.”

Heat leapt in his eyes. “You’re mine … now. Mine, Eve.”

A heady excitement coursed through her. “Yes. Oh, yes …”

He thundered into her with quickening thrusts that drove her ahead of him like a hunter chasing prey. Except she wanted to be caught. She thrilled to the idea of having him capture her … make her his … so she … could make him … hers.

Suddenly he caught her … in a crash of sensations so powerful that she saw stars … felt him shudder … heard him cry out her name.

“Mine … Noel,” she whispered as she vaulted into oblivion.

For a moment, he strained against her, as if to relish every second of being inside her. Then he collapsed on top of her. She wrapped her arms around him, his weight a comfort. Bending to brush a kiss to her lips, he rolled off to lie beside her, breathing heavily.

She curled up next to him, still awash in the wonderfully intense feelings he’d brought to life within her. She’d lost her innocence, and she didn’t care. Because she’d lost it to Noel, the man she loved.

Loved? Oh yes. She did love him, even with all his faults. But she wasn’t sure it was wise to say it to him if he proved not to want her beyond this. She had too much pride for that. For now, it was enough to have had him in her bed.

After a moment, he turned on his side and propped his head on one hand so he could look at her. Laying his arm over her belly, he smoothed his fingers up and down her ribs.

“Are you all right?” he asked in a husky voice. “Not too much pain?”

“Only a little.” She ran her hand lightly over his chest with its swirls of hair. “I believe I like my Christmas present.”

He arched one eyebrow in an expression she could only call wolfish. “I certainly enjoyed mine.”

Mine.

While in the throes of joining with her, he’d said she was his. But what did that mean? What did he want it to mean? She was afraid to ask, and even more afraid to know. Because if he still planned to offer for Lady Margaret, she didn’t know how she could bear it.

“Eve, we need to talk,” he murmured.

Oh, no, she was not staying around for that. Not now, not after this. Because once he said the words ending all her pleasure, she’d never be able to unhear them. Sitting up on the side of the bed, she found her nightdress and tugged it on, then grabbed her wrapper, pulling it on as she headed for the door.

“Wait! Where are you going?” Noel muttered, vaulting out of the bed fully naked. “Eve, for God’s sake …”