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She hesitated but then nodded. She knew that inheriting the marquisate had upended his life, changing everything he believed to be true about himself. Here, when it was just the two of them, she could show him that she saw him for himself and not as the new Marquess of Lowenbrock, a title with which he was still uncomfortable.
“Yes, John.”
He grasped her hand and brought it to his chest. Her fingers spread wide, taking in his heat.
He kissed her again, and everything seemed to move quickly from there. She used both hands now to explore his chest and arms, amazed at the feel of his muscles. A jolt of shyness went through her when she realized he was raising her nightdress.
The heat of his hand on her thigh almost caused her to swoon. She expected him to bring her down onto the bed and lie next to her. But instead, he lifted her and settled her on his lap, her legs on either side of his. He kept kissing her, his mouth hungry on hers, and she matched him. When he placed his hands on her hips and brought her center so it rested over the hard ridge of his arousal, she tore her mouth away and stared down at him. She was surprised to find herself panting.
He lifted his hips while bringing her body closer to his, and she couldn’t hold back her slight moan. She’d never imagined this intimacy would feel so good.
“You could bring a man to the edge of reason. Promise me you’ll always be mine.”
She would give him anything he wanted. And if he wanted forever, why on earth would she deny him when he could elicit such wicked sensations from her? Part of her believed she was behaving selfishly, holding him to something he might not want when he realized he could have any available woman in England. But she found that she no longer cared. Lowenbrock—no, she must think of him as John now—might not love her, but it was clear he had feelings for her.
“I promise,” she said, moving against his arousal.
His gaze settled on hers, and she wanted to scream with frustration when his hands on her hips stopped her motion. “You’ll marry me, Amelia?”
He hadn’t told her what she so wanted to hear—that he loved her—but she could see in his eyes that he cared for her. Above all, he respected her. Perhaps, together, the two were close enough to love. It was more than most had when they wed.
“Yes, I’ll marry you.”
His eyes searched hers for several seconds. Then, with a low growl, he flipped them until she was on her back. He hovered over her, his weight braced on his arms. “It’s time to do away with the rest of our clothing.”
His words shocked yet thrilled her. She wasn’t wearing any undergarments under her nightdress. She stifled her initial urge to resist the suggestion, because in that moment she realized that like him, she wanted there to be nothing between them.
And so she shifted to help him remove her nightdress. She expected him to follow suit and remove the rest of his clothing, but after tossing her nightdress to the side, he dragged his eyes down her body.
Heat crept over her skin as she allowed herself to remain still under his perusal. And then he began touching her everywhere. He rested his weight on one arm and with the other began a careful exploration of her body. His hand started at her hips where they flared just below her waist and slowly crept upward. When he cupped one breast and began to toy with the nipple, a shock of sensation speared through her body.
He dipped his head, but instead of kissing her, he took the peak of her breast into his mouth.
“John.” His name was a broken whisper, delight soon replacing her shock. This man knew how to please a woman and make her forget that she lay vulnerable and exposed. She wanted more.
Her hands wandered from his shoulders downward. She explored the muscles of his chest and abdomen again, tracing the ridges of muscle with curious fingers. Wondering if his nipples were as sensitive as hers, she ran her fingers over them and was rewarded with a soft groan.
His mouth drifted lower, and she began to feel a twinge of alarm when he spread her legs wide and positioned himself between them.
“What are you doing?” She barely managed the words as she tried to hold back her embarrassment.
“I’m making sure this first night is one you’ll remember. Do you trust me, Amelia?”
“Since the first moment I saw you.”
His gaze seemed to bore through her, and for a moment she had the irrational sensation that he was remembering their encounter in the tavern. But no, he’d forgotten about the barmaid he’d met briefly. He would think she was referring to when he first arrived at Brock Manor.
His gaze left hers, and he watched his hand as it trailed from her knee, up her inner thigh, and to her very center.
When he entered her with one finger, she was beyond caring about her embarrassment. She thought he was shifting to examine her more closely, but then he did something that had her mind going blank with shock. He kissed her there, above where his hand was stimulating her from within. She buried her fingers in his hair, thinking to pull him away, but when he licked her, the heat of his breath all but causing her to melt, she was powerless to do anything but hold him in place. She was certain of only one thing in that moment—she would die if he stopped.
It didn’t take long at all before her breath quickened, her body reaching for something she’d never experienced. Then it happened. A wave of pleasure swept through her, so intense she swore she saw stars behind her eyelids. Every muscle in her body tensed as the sensation rolled through her.
John lifted his head, and Amelia opened her eyes to meet his gaze.
“I can’t wait any longer,” he said.
“I don’t want you to.”
