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“Yes,” she gasped, leaning into him as he stroked her, “just like this.”

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered against her ear. Then his mouth moved to her neck, kissing and tasting.

“I want you,” she breathed. “Now.”

He bent her forward slightly, one hand braced against the tiled wall, the other on her hip. She felt him position himself behind her, and then, with a slow, sure thrust, he slid inside her again.

Her moan echoed off the walls, mingling with the rhythm of the falling water.

He moved deliberately, gripping her hips as he thrust into her—deeper, harder—each movement measured and controlled.

She braced herself, pushing back to meet each stroke, her breath coming in broken gasps.

“Jacob,” she gasped. “Don’t stop.”

He groaned in response, driving into her with more force, his control fraying.

She reached between her legs, finding that sensitive spot he had touched before, circling it as he moved inside her. The dual sensations sent her spiraling.

Her cry of release filled the chamber, her body clenching around him, pulling him deeper still.

With one final thrust, he followed her over the edge, with a groan that vibrated against her damp skin.

Chapter 20

When Jacob woke up, Honoria wasn’t in his bed. He groaned and rolled onto his back, scrubbing his face with his palms.

He hadn’t felt this good—this happy—in… well, ever. He never knew physical pleasure could feel so good. He never knew it would feed not only his body, but his soul.

He only wished he’d woken with her still in his arms.

But she was his housekeeper. She had duties.

A smile spread over his face. For now.

With renewed purpose, he climbed out of bed and went through his morning ablutions. Once dressed, he went straight to his study and rang the bell, instructing the maid to ask Miss Hartwell to join him.

When she arrived a few minutes later—minutes that felt like hours—he crossed the room in two long strides and pulled her into his arms, kissing her savagely. She responded in kind, backing him toward the desk until his hips rested against the edge. He pulled her closer, to stand between his legs, caressing her back, her bottom.

When they finally broke the kiss, both were breathless, her cheeks a lovely shade of crimson. “I have to go back to work,” she whispered.

“No.” He pressed a kiss to her lips. “Stay.”

“I can’t,” she said, then deepened the kiss, moaning into his mouth.

“You can. You don’t have to return to work. You’re mine now.”

She smiled up at him. “I’m not abandoning Mrs. Clarke just because we…” She hesitated. “Well, you know.”

“Then you’re fired,” he said with a grin. He meant to tease her, but her expression shifted, darkened.

“I’ll hire more housekeepers,” he assured her. “More maids—whatever you think necessary. But you’re not lifting another finger in this house.”

She stepped back. “Jacob, that’s not why… I don’t want my life to change.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean, you don’t want your life to change? Surely you don’t think a countess should be doing the duties of a housekeeper?”

Her head snapped up. “A countess?”