Page 102 of The Dangerous Lord

She gave a little gasp of surprise when he did precisely what he’d threatened, running his tongue slowly up the inside of her thigh to the outer edges of her curly hair.

“Good Lord,” she whispered as his mouth found the place he craved kissing, “you can’t mean to ... It’s ... it’s ... Ohhhhh, Ian ...”

She didn’t protest after that. He kissed her there in earnest, enjoying the taste of her, relishing her approving murmurs as he laved the petals of her skin with his tongue. She’d abandoned the bedpost, so both of her hands clutched his head to force it closer. He liked that, liked the way his wanton little wife threw herself into the most intimate of marital acts.

Now if only he could keep from losing control. Her musky scent and eager undulations were building the tension in him, too, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go without embarrassing himself.

“Yes, yes ... Ian,” she moaned, “yes ... like that ... oh, that’s even better ... my God ... my sweet God ...”

Her explosion came so quickly he had to anchor her hips against him to keep her from falling as the shudders swept her body and she cried out his name. She swayed there a moment as if suspended, her leg slipping off his shoulder.

Then slowly she sank to her knees on the bed. She stared into his eyes, the light of pleasure still shining in her face. “I never realized ...”

“Neither did I.” He’d never realized that giving pleasure to a woman could be so sublime. Or that he could want a woman urgently, yet want to please her even more. Or that he could find himself so enamored of her he never wanted to let her out of his sight.

She glanced down at his erection, and her eyes went round. “What about ...”

He froze. He could end this now, and they could still have a separation. She’d found her pleasure, so she wouldn’t quibble much if he didn’t find his.

But she must have guessed his thoughts, for she murmured, “Oh, no, you don’t,” and pulled his head down to hers.

After that, he was scarcely conscious of how she ended up laid out on the bed with her thighs parted and him kneeling between them. His cock was leading him, that’s all. Next thing he knew, he was sliding into her slick, welcoming passage.

“My God, querida, you’re so warm.” Warm and tight and incredible. Was it possible to die of pleasure? Because if anybody could prompt it, it was his darling wife.

Like a natural wanton, she clamped her legs instinctively about his hips, drawing him in, sucking him down into her. He couldn’t go slowly. Not a chance. She felt too good with her legs locked around him and her body straining to meet his thrusts. He drove deep and hard ... he couldn’t help himself.

He wanted to be inside her so fully she could never forget him, never want to leave him. He wanted to imprint himself on her like a key pressed into the locksmith’s wax, so that only they two fit together.

“You’ve lost ... your chance ... for a separation,” he warned as he pounded into her.

“Good.” She kissed him full on the mouth to seal the agreement. Her tongue darted inside to tease him, and he sucked hard on it, wanting ... needing as much of her as he could get.

She was his. Forever. The thought made him so glad he drove to the hilt inside her and spilled his seed almost in the same instant.

“I love you,” she cried against his mouth as she found her own release again. “I love you ... I love you ... I love you ...”

I love you, too, he thought in that instant. God help me, I love you, too.

Which meant he had to tell her everything. He couldn’t let her go on imagining herself in love with him when she didn’t truly know him. She deserved to know what she’d just gotten herself into.

But not now. In the morning. Let him have this one sweet night with her.

Something tickled Felicity’s ear, dragging her up through the fog of sleep. A whisper. Someone was whispering her name in her ear. She snuggled deeper into the covers, which were tucked up under her chin. “Go away,” she grumbled.

A male voice chuckled. “You can’t sleep all day, querida.”

She opened one eye to glare at Ian, then shut it. “Why not?”

“We’re leaving for London today, remember?”

It took a second for that to sink in, but when it did, her eyes flew open. Ian sat on the edge of the bed beside her, his hand resting on her well-draped hip. He was already dressed, for pity’s sake. Of course, the room was flooded with light, which might have something to do with that.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Noon.”

“Noon? Good Lord, I slept late.”