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“Shh,” he whispered, reaching for her, parting her folds, running a single finger through her wet heat. “Let me look.”
“I can’t—” She closed her eyes. It was too much. It was too...good. Another stroke and a wicked circle where she instantly ached for him.
“So beautiful,” he whispered. “This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. So wet and warm and”—another swirl of a finger, and she sucked in a breath—“wanting,” he finished, parting her and lifting his head, licking into her with a long, slow suck. She cried out, and he released her. When he spoke, he was all satisfaction. “You want me, don’t you? Here?”
Before she could answer, he was there, against her, and she couldn’t contain her moan, her hands coming to hold him, her fingers thrusting into his hair, tightening as sheheld herself perfectly still, embarrassment threatening even as he sent a thundering pleasure through her.
He stopped, his fingers tightening on her bottom, turning to press a kiss high on the inside of her thigh. “You taste like honey and sin.”
Adelaide closed her eyes at the words, at the flood of delight that coursed through her at them.
“Come closer, love,” he whispered there, at her core. “Give me more.”
And then he pulled her down so he could cover her with his mouth, working her over with his tongue again and again, rumbling against her as she lost control, rocking against him. Just once. Just enough to get...
“Closer,” he growled, swatting her bottom. She yelped, surprised by the quick bite of pain and the slow lick of pleasure.
She looked down at him to find—dear Lord. He was watching her, his beautiful blue eyes tracking up the long line of her body, a wicked light of discovery there.You like that.
He didn’t have to speak the words aloud. He could see the truth.
“I—” She bit her lip. Another swat. His hand lingering over the sting. Large and warm. She moaned, rocking into his firm grip. “Yes. Henry...” His name came on a long, slow sigh.
“What a very good girl you are,” he whispered up the length of her body as he pulled her to him, not looking away. “We are going to explore that at length another time. But now...” He rewarded her with a long, lush lick, enough to have her bucking against him, her head falling forward as she panted her pleasure. Another growl rumbled from him, the sound nearly too much.
His magnificent mouth ate at her, licking and sucking and stealing her control until she lost herself to his touch, turning herself and her pleasure over to him, her fingerstight in his hair. He released her for a heartbeat, just enough to command, “That’s it, love. Take it. Take me.”
And she did, unable to stop herself. Unable to resist his pull, closer and closer to the edge. Not wanting to stop as she rocked against him, his tongue tracking over her secret places and his fingers sliding over her bottom, finding another secret place, painting slow, languid circles until she was beyond herself, panting his name and begging him not to stop. He didn’t, not until she had taken her climax in a slow, increasing wave that crashed hard and fast through her on a scream.
Even then, he didn’t release her, seeming to know what she needed—the flat of his tongue, the weight of his palm. And then a languid slide down his torso, where his cock waited, hard once more. Ready for her.
She hesitated, lifting her weight from him. “Your bandages...”
This wasn’t—they couldn’t—
He moved, lifting her up and over the crisscrossing white linen, until she was seated below, straddling the straining length of him. “I swear to you, Adelaide, there is no pain right now. There is nothing but you.”
“It’s too much,” she whispered, even as she rocked, just barely, just enough to make them both sigh. “It’s too soon.”
“It’s been an eternity,” he replied, reaching for her face, running one thumb over her cheek. “You took such good care of me, love.” Then that hand fell, fingers finding the scar at her side, tracing it gently. “Now we are a match.”
The words rioted through her, the idea that there might be a match for her. The teasing, tempting lie that there might be a partner for Adelaide, born alone, raised alone. Thathemight be that partner.
Impossible.
Tears came, unbidden. Unwelcome. She dashed themaway, but he noticed them. Misunderstood. “No, love. I am well. I’ll never make you cry again.”
She leaned into the touch, her eyes closing at the words. At the lie in them.
There was no question he would make her cry again. When he left her—whether it was tomorrow or a year from now—she might never stop.
He was not for her. Not forever. But that moment, in that room, in that cottage, on that hill... he could be for then.
And that moment, as she straddled him, and his hand slid down over her breasts and belly and up her thighs to the place where she throbbed and ached for him, she did not cry. She reveled in him, in the certainty of him. In the way he took his cock in hand and worked it against her, making her impossibly wetter and more wanton.
“Henry.” The word came out on a whine—desperate for him.
“You want this,” he said, raw and perfect.
