Page 53 of A Rogues & Gentlemen Christmas

“Better?” he asked, his voice strained.

She could feel the tension singing through him.

“Yes.”

He moved again, cautiously, slowly, and Bunty stared up at him. He had his eyes closed, his face a picture of concentration. How beautiful he was, and how careful of her. He was tender and thoughtful and… and how had this man gained such a reputation? How had he become what he was purported to be? She could see nothing of that in him now. His eyes flicked open, dazzling blue and filled with triumph as he gazed down at her. Bunty smiled.

“Better?” he asked again, his lips quirking.

“Better,” she agreed, and then gasped as he tilted her hips and… oh.

“Much better,” he said this time, and it wasn’t a question. He sounded rather smug.

“Oh, yes… m-much….”

Bunty wrapped herself about him and simply held on, clinging to his powerful frame as he taught her what pleasure was, what they could have together. And, oh, it was marvellous. His touch was careful, his attention on her absolute. At this moment, she hadn’t the slightest doubt she was the centre of his universe, and she wanted to be there always. The intimacy was astonishing, the closeness with this man she barely knew. Already, she felt he had sunk into her bones, into her soul. She did know him, didn’t she? At least she recognised his generosity, his kindness, and his willingness to share himself—both his faults and his strengths—and to bolster her own insecurities with his surety. Bunty was lost, drowning in him, in this man she had known so little but was falling for like a star plummeting to earth. His body made hers sing, made her feel right in her own skin in a way she’d never thought possible. No longer was she awkward and hiding herself, trying to disguise her curves, to diminish her height. He loved her body, that much was obvious from the way he was moving, every grunt of pleasure that made her skin prickle with awareness. She had never realised, never expected…. Her mother’s staccato, anxiety-laden words of advice for her wedding night had not given the slightest hint that this… this was even possible. Perhaps it wouldn’t be with anyone else but him, but it was him. He was breathing hard now, his movements erratic and harsh, wonderfully masculine sounds of effort and passion filling her ears as he shuddered, jerked, and spilled himself inside her with a hoarse cry that made her heart soar, and hope fill her to the brim.

He collapsed on top of her with a groan, his chest heaving, his body slick with the effort of his exertions. Bunty lay pinned beneath him, feeling a little dazed and very feminine and… and almost delicate as his heavy body pressed her into the mattress. It was heavenly.

“Christ, I’m crushing you,” he muttered, hauling himself up.

“No!” Bunty cried, holding onto him and pulling him back. “No. Don’t… Don’t go. Not yet. I… I like it. I like the weight of you, the feel of you.”

He shifted a little, propping his head on his elbow and staring down at her.

“You do, eh?”

There was teasing in his expression, but it was warm and gentle, in no way mocking, and so she just nodded.

“You’ve really gone and done it now, my lady,” he said, his voice softer now. “You’re mine.”

“Yes.”

“No regrets?”

Something flickered in his eyes, something vulnerable and uncertain, and Bunty wanted to chase it away. She reached her hand up to stroke his face, still unable to believe this gorgeous man was really hers.

“Not one,” she said.