“No, I thought you would look at me as you are now—as though I’m to be pitied.”
“I don’t pity you. I feel sorrow that others were cruel to you, especially when you were just a lad. If you’ll give me their names, I’ll arrange to best them at four-card brag.”
The last thing he’d expected was to smile, to release a small laugh, to feel such a lightening of his heart.
Leaning in, she brushed a kiss just above the spot where his pulse beat, and her tenderness caused his chest to tighten.
“In my eyes, you are no less perfect, Benedict Trewlove.”
Ah, Christ. All the tension flowed out of him like a river rushing to the sea. He claimed her mouth. He was far from perfect. She, on the other hand, was all goodness and light.
Placing her hands on either side of his head, she drew him back, held his gaze. “I love you all the more for the way you have faced the challenges of your life. Douse the lamp and make love to me.”
With a grin, he pushed her back down onto the bed. “No, this time I think we’ll keep the lamp burning.”
She loved the freedom of plowing her fingers through the thick strands of his hair, cradling his face between her palms. The first time she’d done it, he’d stiffened, and at that moment she’d disliked every person who had ever made him feel... less. And she’d realized with sudden clarity that one of the reasons he understood her so well, had known what she had needed when it came to retribution with Chadbourne, was because for most of his life people had been metaphorically turning their back on him.
She took his mouth, slowly, sensually, until with a low moan he relaxed into her arms. She reminded him that she loved him.
When he had lifted himself up onto his elbows to look down on her, the heat smoldering in his eyes nearly unraveled her.
So much had been lost when he’d pleasured her within the shadows, and now they gloried in the sight of each other, fully revealed. They traveled over each other, examining dips, curves, ridges, and mounds.
“Your nipples are rosier than I thought,” he said, and she suspected her cheeks had gone rosy as well.
“Your scar looks angrier than I thought.”
“I like the pink hue that rushes over your skin when passion takes hold.”
“I like the intensity with which you watch me.”
And the way in which he caressed her, kissed her, licked her. She especially liked the attention his mouth gave to thevalley between her legs. She liked that she could now knot her fingers in his hair and connect with him as he feasted.
After she cried out with her release, he moved up, her legs hooked over his shoulders. She felt the nudge as he tested her readiness.
“Are you sure?” he asked.
“I love you with all that I am, with all I ever shall be.”
With a groan, he closed his eyes, opened them. “You humble me, Thea, that you should want me... Beauty to my beast.”
“Wantis too tame a word. Desire. Yearn. Crave. And you’re not a beast. Not in action, deed, or looks. You’re one of the most handsome men I’ve ever known. Become mine completely.” In so doing, she would become his. Nothing would have the power to separate them.
With an almost feral groan, he began pushing his way into her, entering, withdrawing, over and over, a little deeper each time, giving her a chance to become accustomed to him. When he sank fully into her, stretching her, filling her, he stilled.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yes. I like how it feels... having you inside me.”
He buried his face in the curve of her shoulder. “You slay me, Thea, so easily.”
He began moving within her, slowly at first, his tempo increasing as she mastered the rhythm of his thrusts, as they parted and met. He was strength, power, and purpose.
Hands caressed, sighs sounded, moans rippled through them. Her name was a litany on his lips, a benediction that caused molten heat to flow through her. Never in her life had she felt such a part of someone, had she felt that she was precisely where she belonged. The world in which she’d grown up lacked magic, depth, satisfaction. Only now did she realize it, only now did she understand that without him,her world had been an arid place where she never would have truly come into herself.
The pleasure built until she was writhing beneath him, digging her fingers into his back, his shoulders, taking her hands wherever she wanted, no longer being denied access to any part of him. Instinctually, she knew he’d never shared so much of himself with anyone else, had never trusted anyone as he trusted her. Knowing the truth of that served to heighten the sensations, caused her to surrender completely, to hold nothing back, because trust was a precious thing. She had his, and he had hers.
So many nights he’d brought her pleasure, but it had never been as all-consuming as this, cocooning her in so many various sensations. Anywhere he touched, her skin rippled with joy, her nerve endings tingled with appreciation.
