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‘Are you quite sure that you are in love with me?’
‘Yes!’
‘Just checking.’
Instead of answering, I kissed him again. Long and hard and with all my heart. Then, slowly, I let my lips wander. First over his cheek, then across his stone-hard jaw, and further down to where, usually, his ten-year-old mint-condition tailcoat was to be found. Now there was no tailcoat. No nothing. There was only him.
And he…
He was really truly mine?
I got my answer when strong arms slid around my shoulders, pulling me closer until my cheek was cradled against his rock-hard chest.
Safety.
Warmth.
Love.
Never in my life before had anyone made me feel like this - like a small child, and at the same time like the strongest most beautiful woman alive. I couldn’t keep the smile from tugging at the corners of my mouth. Was this real? Was Mr Ambrose, Mr Rikkard Stone Face Ambrose actually making me smile?
He was. And it felt wonderful in more ways than I could have dreamed of. I had expected the intoxicating rush of this encounter, had expected to feel heat and need and passion - but never in a million years would I have expected how close it would make me feel. Close to him. Close to his heart.
Let’s not forget his body, shall we?
Good point.
Tentatively, I reached out. Feeling almost like a naughty child touching an invaluable artwork, my fingers brushed against his chest. He was so hard, so smooth, I might really have thought he was a sculpture hewn from stone if I hadn’t felt him tremble beneath me.
‘I’m sure,’ I repeated, my words a whispered breath against his skin. ‘I love you.’
His arms tightened around me. ‘Adequate.’
I couldn’t help grinning like a fool. My greedy fingers continued to explore. I couldn’t see a thing, couldn’t catch a single glimpse of his perfection - but that didn’t matter. Because no matter how perfect he might look, how chiselled his muscles might appear in bright daylight, it was nothing compared to how they felt, bare to the touch. Heat rose inside me to meet his ice and stone. I wanted more. Touch more. Feel more. It wasn’t enough. It would never be.
‘Corset!’
My breathless demand was hardly audible, but he caught it. A second later, his fingers were at the back of my corset, tearing open lacings as if they were no more substantial than cobwebs. The bloody cumbersome thing fell away, and I was free! Free to move, free to feel, free to do terrifying and wonderful things.
‘Come!’
I didn’t have the best track record when it came to obeying commands coming from Mr Rikkard Ambrose - but that one I obeyed without hesitation. Gripping his broad shoulders as if they were a lifeline, I closed the distance between us, just as he grabbed me to do the same. We clashed like ice and fire, like rock and not-so-solid chocolate. With only a thin chemise between us, his chest dug into me almost painfully hard. Almost. And if there was a bit of pain, it was the kind that only made you want more.
‘Miss Linton…you are…!’
His voice trailed off, and the silence said more than a million words could ever have. His hands slid up under my chemise, worshipping me, tentatively exploring every single inch. In every touch, I could feel the truth: I was his love, and he was mine.
‘I know,’ I whispered to my man in the shadows. ‘I feel the same.’
Safely wrapped in darkness, I let my fingers travel farther and farther, clinging to him while his strong arms held me and his hands continued to worship me. His body was like a beautiful landscape made from bedrock. Hard ridges and shallow dips, smooth plains that I wanted to kiss a thousand times. I revelled in every single inch. Felt them. Claimed them. And as I did, slowly a realisation began to sink in:
He’s real, Lilly. He’s really real, and he’s yours.
Tentatively, I moved both my hands until they were lying lightly on his chest. The strong beats of his heart under my hands fired my blood, making my own heart thump faster with a feeling for which there was only one word.
Love.
It was love. Both in his heart and mine. And whatever the morning brought, I wanted this night with him.
