“Bollocks, I am sorry, Letty, darling, are you all right?” he asked through clenched teeth, his muscles straining with the effort of holding himself back.
“Yes, I am fine,” she said, running her hands up the hardness of his back.
“I—damn—I have never bedded a virgin before,” he said, sounding apologetic, though she wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for his lack of experience despoiling innocents orbecause he had bedded anyone else at all. Aristocrats really could be terribly precious about such things. “I am trying to be gentle.”
“You are doing marvelously,” she said, not because she was trying to soothe his fears but because it was true. Even with the parts that were challenging—and those were rapidly fading—she felt wonderful. He was here with her. They were joined in all ways.
“What have I ever done to deserve a woman like you?” he muttered, but the question seemed to be rhetorical, so Letty forewent answering in lieu of letting out a long moan of pleasure when he jutted forward a little bit further.
He was seated fully within her now, and goodness. She felt…
Happy. It was a joy to have him here with her, even for a short time.
And then he started to move, and Letitia found she could no longer parse her emotions, because it became impossible to think about anything except the gasping, deliciousness of it when he reached something inside her that she had not known existed.
“Oh,” she said, because it was a great deal, as it had been with his hands and fingers, and yet itwasn’t; it was more—it was deeper—it wrapped around her and consumed her.
“Letty,” he said, staring down at her with his storm cloud eyes. A long flop of hair had fallen over his brow, and there was a faint sheen of sweat on his chest. His broad shoulders bunched and smoothed powerfully as he surged into her. “Letty, Letty. God.”
He had little in the way of speech; she had less. She gripped the back of his neck, pulling his mouth to hers in a rough, uncoordinated gesture that could barely be called a kiss. She didn’t care, though—didn’t care about anything except that his breath moved with hers, as her body moved with his. And, just like that, it all became too much, overwhelming her, and she reached her breaking point so suddenly that it was almost violent.
There was a sharp ringing in her ears as her pleasure devoured her whole, and behind that, she could faintly hear Ezra’s praise.
“Fuck, yes, that’s my girl. Goddamn it, Letitia, you are so beautiful, you do not know what you do to me?—”
And then she gasped again, blocking out the sound of his voice as, with a curse, he pulled from her and spilled into the sheets, rather than into her.
It was sensible, of course. It was theonlysensible thing to do. But instead of feeling grateful, Letty could not help but feel a sense of… sadness. Loss, even.
That particular bit of absurdity was quickly soothed; Ezra moved them to a less rumpled part of the bed, grumbling as if he was already battling with consciousness.
Somehow, this charmed Letitia beyond reason. Her duke had been made weary by his exertions, it seemed.
He mumbled something utterly incoherent into her hair, and then he wrapped her in his arms.
He held her tight as though he never intended to let her go. And, just for a little while, Letty decided to pretend that the lie was the truth. Just for a few minutes more.
CHAPTER 22
Ezra felt… strange.
Good, of course. But too good. That had not been normal lovemaking, had it? No—hewas not the untried virgin of the two, though he supposed neither of them qualified any longer.
With Letty, it had been… Remarkable.
He buried his face in her hair, not minding that it tickled his nose. He didn’t mind much right now, to be frank. That was unusual. He usually lay in bed at night for hours, unable to quiet his mind as he puzzled over something. The fire, most frequently, but also other things, too. How to care for his tenants. Iris. His father, when he was still alive.
But now, there was nothing but the quiet hum of sated pleasure, nothing but the warm, soft woman in his arms.
And then Letty,hisLetty—damn what anyone else thought about it—began to stir.
“What are you doing?” he grumbled, halfway asleep. He tightened his arms around her. He could not think of one single good reason for her to be moving right now.
“Ezra.” Something in her voice gave him pause, though she spoke softly and gently. “I have to go.”
He was no longer asleep. He was no longer evenremotelyasleep.
He sat up as sharply as if she had jabbed him with a hatpin.
