Page 78 of The Lady’s No Angel

Her breath came quicker and her fingers were not so deft as they had been, fumbling with the buttons as she grew impatient. Finally, they were undone, and he shrugged the waistcoat off, tossing it aside. Before she could do so, he reached for his shirt, tugging it free of his waistband, and cast it away in the same direction.

Angel swallowed a gasp as she stared at him, at the glorious expanse of muscular torso and arms and abdomen. Wiry dark hair scattered his chest, and she could not resist the urge to touch it, to trail her fingers through it.

“You are so warm,” she whispered, her fingers tangling in the coarse hair before she placed her palm flat against his body, feeling the steady thud of his heart.

“I’ll make a good bed warmer on cold nights,” he promised.

Angel met his eyes, seeing tenderness there and feeling her heart expand. Oh, this man! This man had rescued her without taking away her power, he had supported her but never made her feel weak; he had allowed her to be brave and reckless, and never once told her she could not do a thing. He loved her audacity, he loved that she was not quite a good girl, and she loved him for all of it.

Hiking up her skirts, she climbed onto the bed, straddling his lap, and bit back a smile as she heard him suck in a breath. She settled herself and discovered him hard and ready beneath her, pressing intimately through the fabric of his trousers against her bare thighs. Then her own breath hitched, and he chuckled, a roguish sound low in his chest that thrilled her and made her shiver.

“My own wicked Angel,” he murmured, sinking one hand into her hair as the other gripped her hip and urged her closer. He rocked them together, and the sudden friction made her head spin.

“Leo,” she gasped, pressing closer and revelling in the tortured groan that rumbled through him.

He laughed and pressed his mouth to her throat, his fingers already busy with the fastenings of her gown. She moved rhythmically, torturing them both, slow, deep thrusts, and then faster, listening to his breathing become increasingly ragged, discovering which pressure and speed made him wild.

She was not the least bit surprised when her bodice sagged, closely followed by the corset. He tugged both hard, exposing her breasts, and she bit back a giggle at the sigh of pleasure that escaped him.

“Oh, my beauties, how I have missed you,” he said with a tragic air. “Let me make up for all these lonely weeks of neglect.”

Angel swallowed a moan as his large, warm hand cupped one breast, squeezing and fondling while his mouth captured the nipple of the other. She arched towards him, desperate to give him all the access he needed as he kissed and caressed and toyed with her, using his teeth and tongue until she was beside herself. She thrust harder, her movements increasingly erratic until he pulled back with a groan.

“Love, if you want to walk down the aisle with your virtue intact, you’d best tell me now, because—”

“No!” she exclaimed, though the sound was a muffled exclamation against his shoulder. She thrust again, throwing back her head and clutching his shoulders as an exquisite bolt of joy shot from the delicate place that was pressed so intimately to him, and another, and another, as she moved against him. “Oh, no. I love you, Leo, and I just want to marry you. I wish it were done already. I am so tired of waiting and—”

He covered her mouth with his own, turning her as he shifted position, laying her down on the mattress.

“Thank God,” he said fervently.

She laughed, pulling his head down to her, kissing him ardently, like he was her next breath. She was only distantly aware of him tugging up her skirts, of his fingers fumbling with the fall of his trousers, until he settled himself between her thighs and she felt the hot, hard length of his arousal, skin–to-skin for the first time.

“Oh.” She gazed at him, wide-eyed.

“If you want me to stop—” he choked out, looking as if it might kill him if she did.

Angel snorted and shook her head. “Foolish man! As if I would. Only—heavens, Leo!”

His grin grew wide and smug and she laughed helplessly, laughter that died in her throat as he slid that most masculine part of himself between her thighs.

“Oh,” she sighed, lifting her hips as his silken skin glided against her own, hot and slick and ready for him. “Oh, yes, Leo. Yes, please.”

He ignored her for a few moments longer, waiting until she was writhing helplessly beneath him, her fingers grasping at his back, his shoulders.

“Love, don’t judge me by this performance, for I’ve a troubling notion it’s going to be embarrassingly quick,” he said gravely, and then pushed into her.

For a moment Angel stilled, bereft of speech as her body reacted, shocked by the sudden breach into forbidden territory. Leo gazed down at her, his expression anxious, his hazel eyes dark with wanting and with the desire to please her. Angel exhaled a none too steady breath as her muscles relaxed, allowing his body to join with hers.

“It’s all right. I’m all right, it… it was just a bit of a shock. Don’t stop.”

Leo looked a little sceptical and moved cautiously, sliding deeper into her by torturous degrees.

Angel gasped, and he stopped at once. She clutched his arms. “Oh. No, don’t—don’t stop, that wasn’t bad, that was—that was—” He slid deeper still and she gazed up at him, eyes wide. “Oh.”

Leo grinned, a pleased, irrepressible, boyish grin that made her heart turn over in her chest. She reached up to touch his dear face, overwhelmed by affection, by the wonder of having met this marvellous man.

“I love you, Leo,” she told him earnestly.