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“Absolutely. More than anything I want you in my life, Lavinia. Not because you’re my wife or my countess. Not because your support keeps me grounded. Not because Deborah adores you and won’t stop asking me where you are. But because I love you. Just you. The woman you are beneath all those labels. The woman with all the strength and determination and conviction I crave, even if I don’t deserve to have you by my side.”
“Oh, Percival, of course you do. There has never been any question.” Lavinia shifted positions and threw herself into his arms with enough force that he toppled backward with her resting haphazardly over his chest. “I wanted to tell you that night I’m hopelessly and quite shamelessly in love with you that I can no longer deny it.”
“But I’m a mess.”
Her purr of laughter went straight to his member, and damn if that organ didn’t harden. “Everyone is a mess, darling. We’re all piles of broken, jagged pieces trying to make sense of life and find lasting connections therein. Only the fortunate discover a heart mate along the way that makes the journey not as lonely or their messes not as overwhelming.”
“We’ve wasted so much time.” Percival ran his hands up and down her arms as she levered into a sitting position straddling his waist.
“Then we should make the best of the time we have left.” When she grinned and the gesture crinkled the delicate skin at the corners of her eyes, he lost the remainder of his heart to her. “I plan to remain by your side for at least the next thirty or forty years if fate is kind.”
“Would God sees fit to grant us that.” He slipped a hand to her nape, tugged her down, and then kissed her with enthusiasm as if he hadn’t seen her for years instead of a mere week. Those petal soft lips welcomed him home without condition or exception.
It was one of the best things about falling in love.
Minutes later, she broke the embrace to smile at him. The bodice of her gown gaped, for he’d undone the few buttons at the back and the sleeves had slipped down her arms. The fabric clung to her breasts with barely a breath, and damn if that wasn’t the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. “Does that mean I’m forgiven?”
“Only if you grant me the same.” He wanted to sing his happiness from the rooftop, but that would mean tearing himself away from the lush wonders of his wife, and quite honestly, he’d rather worship her body.
“There is nothing to forgive.” Lavinia’s eyes darkened with the same desire that currently lit tiny fires in his blood. “What do you intend to do about this reconciliation, Laughton?” One of her finely feathered eyebrows arched in invitation or challenge, he couldn’t decide.
Was there any wonder why he adored her? “Perhaps it’s better I show you, for as you’ve said before, pretty words mean nothing without actions.”
“I like the way you think.” She lowered her head to his and kissed him.
All too soon, their tongues met and tangled in a mating dance as old as time. In short order, he was stripped down to his breeches and lawn shirt. Her gown joined the growing pile of discarded clothing, as did her stays and petticoat. Fingers and hands were seemingly everywhere; caresses encouraged moans and questing fingertips over sensitive skin were met with gasps and sighs. It took little time to remove his shirt and her chemise, and once she was gloriously naked, Percival laid her on the sofa and came over her.
Giddy awareness assailed him as he kissed a path down her body, being sure to tease and torment her nipples as he went. Her back arched; she furrowed her fingers into his hair while he continued his quest to lick and nibble every inch of her. When he pressed his lips to her mons, she splayed her thighs, wriggled her hips in invitation, and Percival didn’t need another clue.
He devoured her, showed her with his tongue and fingers how he would claim her in mere moments. Whimpering cries of need left her throat and still he explored. Soon enough he encouraged her swollen nubbin out of hiding. Long ago he’d perfected how to work her body that would bring maximum pleasure. Through suction and friction, he brought her to the edge of bliss again and again. By the time she came undone from his ministrations, he was hard to the point of discomfort, needed to join with her else he’d embarrass himself.
While Lavinia was lost to the throes of her release, he left the sofa long enough to remove his breeches. By the time her breathing had returned to normal, and a red flush swept over her upper chest, he’d again covered her body with his. Once more he claimed her lips, couldn’t have enough of them or her.
But his wife apparently wasn’t in the mood to be courted or have him finesse the preliminaries any more than he’d already done. She looped her arms about his shoulders, and as she pulled him closer, she wrapped her legs around his, holding him in the cradle of her hips.
“I need you, Percival.” The whisper was fraught with desire and a touch desperate.
“You have me, now and for the rest of our lives.” He kissed her again because he could and feathered his fingers into her hair so gently hold her head in his palm, keeping her steady. With his other hand, he guided his shaft, teasing her flesh with his tip before thrusting, taking her, claiming her, speared into her, and not stopping into he’d sunk in stones deep. Sensations raced along every nerve ending and a rush of tingling awareness went over him.
Damn, but that first initial movement when they were joined… there was simply nothing like it.
Lavinia moaned with delight. She squirmed beneath him, taking him ever deeper. “That is my favorite.” As she tightened her inner muscles, squeezing his length, she lightly bit his earlobe. “You know how I want it.”
“I do.” And God help him, he always would.
Then, he moved slowly in and out of her passage for the sheer pleasure of feeling that glide. As if they’d known each other for a lifetime, they settled upon a rhythm that was much like dancing. Percival gripped her hips, canting them at an angle he preferred and one that would give her the most pleasure. She threw her head back, and with each new thrust, sounds of encouragement left her throat.
This coupling was more than a quick fuck that had no purpose other than to culminate in physical release. No, now he made love to his wife, the woman he’d won after a hard-fought battle, the woman he’d pledged his life and his fidelity to—the woman he loved to distraction. How silly of him to think he could have the physical side of life without wanting everything else. It all went together, hand in hand, and the payoff was more wonderful than anything else.
Then the pace of his thrusts changed as frantic need tingled through his stones and shaft. Deeper still he plunged. Faster he worked his hips. Harder he stroked in an effort to send her flying while denying himself the same satisfaction. Lavinia strained beneath him, her back arching, the perfect globes of her breasts bouncing, her skin flushed with arousal. As he switched his angle of penetration and the root of his shaft rubbed against her swollen nubbin, the first keening cry broke the silence.
With gasps and words of approval, his wife fell into bliss so completely the contractions of her feminine walls yanked him into that release quickly after. White light rushed up to meet him, and for a few seconds he existed in a vacuum where there was nothing except the rapid tattoo of his pulse and the labored sound of his breathing. His member jerked as he spent, spilling hot jets of seed into her core.
As he murmured words of love and affection, Percival collapsed on top of her, and she wrapped her arms more comfortably around him. He kissed the side of her neck, her cheeks that were salty from tears, her closed eyelids, and finally her sweat-damp forehead. How very fortunate he was that he’d married this woman and finally had won her heart, for she was his world, the light at the end of the tunnel he’d been stuck in, and he needed her with him to continue changing into the man he was always intended to be.
“Thank you,” he whispered against her lips.
She giggled. “For what? We’ve always done this together.”
