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Before she knew what was happening, she was in his arms. His mouth closed over hers and she opened her own, welcoming him. Beneath the sweet bite of brandy there was the unique taste of him, of Roland. Longing swept over her now like wildfire, possessing her, body and soul. Yes, she wanted him.
And she loved him.
On stumbling feet, they backed into his office. His hand left the small of her back momentarily to shut the door behind them. Then she was against that hard surface, reveling in the feel of him pressing into her, in the tingles left behind by each kiss he placed on her throat.
Her fingers trembled as she unclasped her merino cloak and let it fall. Every inch of her wanted his touch.
He did not disappoint. Her fichu he plucked out and tossed aside, raining kisses across her chest and following each with the lightest of caresses. She shivered, her breath growing ragged as her breasts began to ache and her nipples to itch beneath the layers of clothing covering them.
As if he knew exactly what she craved, Roland slipped a hand beneath her bodice and eased a breast free of confinement. She moaned as he began to massage it in slow circles, as her nipple hardened against the slight roughness of his palm. Then he bent and covered the naked, pink-tipped peak with his hot mouth.
A shock of pleasure ripped through her, streaking from the point where he suckled her all the way down into her belly and radiating out to her very fingertips. Her knees would have buckled had she not been supported by the door behind her. Overtaken by the lust pounding in her veins, she arched up to meet him, offering herself in complete surrender.
He tugged at the ribbons binding the two halves of her bodice together, loosening them until he could free the other breast and treat it to the same attention.
With each stroke of his tongue, each pinch of his lips, the place between Harriett’s legs throbbed. When she could stand no more, she buried her hands in his sandy-gold hair and dragged his head up again to kiss him with a ferocity she had not known she possessed.
His groaning response joined her own as she pressed her bared breasts against him, the linen of his shirt rasping against the hypersensitive flesh. Fleetingly, she thought that perhaps she ought to stop now, before it was too late. But then he ran his tongue across her bottom lip, and all thought was lost. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she leaned into him.
Together, they staggered backwards until he bumped into the desk. Thus braced, he ran his hands down to mold her backside, pulling her to himself.
The turgid bulge seated at the juncture of his thighs pressed against her mons. It ought to have sent her into a maidenly panic, but instead it elicited only another, even stronger rush of desire. Reaching between their bodies, she ran her palm along the hard ridge.
Another long, rumbling groan broke from his lips. A moment later, he hauled her around until she was the one with her bottom against the desk. Wedging himself between her legs, he planted his hardness firmly against her.
Closing her eyes, she rocked back. When he bent to again lave her breasts, she thought she’d die. His hands slid down, and the cool kiss of open air assailed her calves and thighs as he lifted her skirts. He backed away, and that coolness touched the heat between her legs, bringing with it both blessed relief and terrible frustration.
Then there was only warmth and heat as he cupped her most private, intimate place. Again delicious sensation engulfed her, driving away the fleeting embarrassment of such intimate exposure. He caressed her, sliding the ball of his thumb against the slick, swelling bud of her womanhood. Unbidden, she let out a breathless little scream of pleasure.
He took her mouth, muffling her cry in a surprisingly tender kiss.
A wave of heat and emotion washed over Harriett, and with it came a corresponding rush of wetness below. Unable to help herself, she moaned.
Lurching back, he fumbled with his breeches. His shaking hands couldn’t manage the buttons.
Without so much as a twinge of uncertainty, she reached out to help him with fingers made nimble by hunger. She closed her eyes as he tugged the material down to free himself.
The velvet hardness of his manhood bumped heavily against her inner thighs, and clarity struck all in an instant. She was about to lose her virginity to a man she now knew she loved with all of her aching heart. A man she wanted more than anything she’d ever wanted in her entire life. A man she knew she could not keep.
He was not himself. She’d tasted the brandy, felt it in his awkward stumbles and shaking hands, heard it in his slurred speech. This wasn’t like the last time, when she’d only been fooled into thinking him incapacitated.
Her heart clenched as he mumbled her name with what sounded like agonized longing.
Once. Just once, she would have what she wanted and be damned the consequences. Grasping his shoulders, she pulled him toward her. There was a momentary flash of panic as the smooth head of him pressed against her sex, and then he surged forward.
Everything within her expanded as the hot length of him entered her, eased by the slickness of her desire. Her body, which had wanted him from the moment they’d first touched two years ago, now accommodated him with a sharp stab of pain. Oh, how it burned! It was as though she were being torn in two.
But it was nothing compared to the pain in her heart as she held him, as it, too, expanded until she thought it would suffocate her. “I love you,” Harriett whispered, knowing her confession would be erased by the brandy he’d drunk. “I love you, Roland,” she repeated, tears streaming down her cheeks as together they slowly rocked, held tight in each other’s embrace.
Then he began to move. Gasping, she focused on the physical event now happening rather than on the emotions threatening to tear her apart. Each motion carried with it a momentary discomfort followed by a sensation of heat, fullness, and a strange, growing tension. It mounted with each stroke, changing, transforming from pain into something similar to what she’d experienced earlier when he’d suckled her.
Desiring that bliss again, she leaned back, lifting her breasts to him now in a silent plea. He bent at once to take a swollen, aching peak into his mouth. Pleasure again rippled through her, doubling as he drew hard and moved within her simultaneously. This time, the lightning streaked from both above and below, meeting in the middle and threatening to unseat her grip on sanity.
A thrumming tingle erupted below as he withdrew a bit farther, sinking back into her after a moment’s pause with a long, low groan of satisfaction. The tingling intensified. Emboldened, she pulled him up from her breasts and grasped his buttocks to draw him toward her, wriggling a little to more fully embrace him.
He shuddered and grabbed her hips, stilling her. “Don’t,” he grated. “Unless you want it to end now.”
