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She reached up to touch his tight jaw. “Make love to me, Valentine.”
***
The choice of words did not escape him. Strangely, they did not scare him either. This would not be like either of their previous encounters—he knew that for sure. Valentine had never brought a woman back to this chamber. Even when he’d been “married” to Lisbeth, any consensual relations took place in her room or when they were on assignment.
Kneeling toward each other as he and Bronwyn were now with no clothing or barriers between them, he felt a deep sense of vulnerability, as if every part of him, including his pounding heart, were laid bare before her. And for once in his life, Valentine didn’t want to hide. He wanted to give her everything…all his flaws, his scars, his darkness.
Her fingertips traced over his smooth jaw, then traced over the parted contours of his mouth. First the upper lip and then the lower. Valentine resisted the urge to lick the pad of her finger. His eyes met her brilliant blue ones, almost glowing in the muted firelight. He could get lost in those eyes. It was as though she wanted him to see into her, too.
When her hand moved to cup the back of his neck and draw him close to her, Valentine didn’t resist. Her lips brushed softly over his once, then twice, the achingly gentle strokes making his heart flutter quite unnecessarily. Hinging nearer so that her pert breasts grazed his chest, she kissed his nose, his cheeks, then his brow, the soft pulses bursting across his skin like the most treasured of touches. The tenderness of them sank deep into his marrow.
He let her, because he wanted it, too.
Valentine knew it was dangerous, this game they were playing with each other as if they had a future beyond this moment and this room…as if they were a duke and his duchess retiring for the evening in languorous familiarity. For one night, he could pretend that she was his. That they were each other’s.
He slid his arm around her waist and drew her flush to him, making a gasp fly from her lips when her breasts flattened against him and his cock found a home in the juncture between her thighs. He chased it with his tongue, capturing her next heated breath. He couldn’t get enough of her mouth, her scent, her taste. Valentine wanted to memorize it all. He almost wanted to force himself to slow down, but the passion was already beyond him, sweeping him up into the storm that was her.
“Bronwyn,” he groaned when her fingers tangled into his hair and tugged, angling his neck to one side so that she could slant their mouths together more deeply, as if she, too, could not be sated with a few shallow nips and licks. Valentine wanted to bury himself in her heat, climb inside her skin and live there for all eternity. His thoughts were nonsensical, of course, but his brain was functioning at half capacity, if that. He’d never thought himself capable of such foolish, impulsive thoughts. Climb into someone? It was absurd.
But still, a part of him yearned… What would life be like with her, if circumstances were different? If he’d courted her properly. If she wasn’t Ashvale’s sister. If they hadn’t collided the way they had. Before the ocean liner, Bronwyn Chase had always been a girl, the forbidden younger sister of his best friend, an option he could never entertain. But now, he couldn’t imagine how on earth he’d ever managed to stay away.
A small voice tried to argue that it was nothing but lust, but Valentine knew it was far beyond that.
Bronwyn Chase was…life changing.
“Valentine,” she moaned over his lips, dragging her taut nipples across his mat of chest hair and making them both gasp at the friction. He was so on edge, his skin felt like it was going to split apart at the seams, and yet, he couldn’t stop touching her, mapping every velvet inch of her curves. He never wanted to forget what she felt like.
How responsive she was. How fucking beautiful.
His hands roved her back, from her slender nape along the deep sultry channel of her spine to the sweet rise of her buttocks, drawing her closer until there wasn’t a sliver of space between them. Then he took her lips again in a drugging kiss before lying back on the bed and pulling her to straddle him. He groaned as the new position notched him right in the wet, warm haven between her thighs. “Take your pleasure, Bronwyn,” he said huskily.
Those blue eyes went wide as she rocked against him, the slow, slick glide making them both shudder at the sensation. God, he couldn’t wait to be inside her, but this was all for her. Valentine wanted every second of this interlude to be directed at her whims.
“I’ve read about this position,” she whispered as he settled his palms over her hips.
“You’ll like it,” he said and winked. “Gives the lady all the control.”
Her lashes fluttered down. “Does it now? It is rather scintillating to have such a strong, powerful man at my mercy.”
He stared up at his goddess in all her glory with her wild brown curls and perfect creamy breasts tipped with the most luscious dusky-pink nipples. They were mouthwatering handfuls and suited her frame perfectly. Valentine’s mouth watered, and he sat up for a taste, lapping his tongue over one of the taut buds and then drawing it into his mouth. When she moaned her approval, head arching back, he switched to the other breast, paying it the same devoted attention he’d given the first. The tight position had his cock lodged against her, and it twitched between them, the need for more friction searing.
“Put me inside you,” he said hoarsely.
Bronwyn notched him at her entrance and then began the slow, deliciously excruciating descent. She was so wet and ready that gravity did most of the work, sheathing him to the hilt in one satisfying stroke. “Oh,” she breathed. “It feels so extraordinarily full. It wasn’t like this before.”
No, because the previous times had been heated and rushed. This coupling was at the opposite end…every kiss savored, every touch cherished, every look revered. Even the clasp of her body was different. Joining with her had felt like coming home. Like hewashome.
“You’re made for me,” he said through clenched teeth. “So perfect.”
She peered down at him. “Then why do you look like you’re in pain?”
Valentine forced his face to relax, but it was a strain keeping himself from spending before making sure that she reached her peak first. He was holding on by a damned thread. “Not pain, love, pleasure. Intense pleasure.”
She rolled her hips with a sigh and he nearly swallowed his own tongue. “Oh, that feels good.”
It was both bliss and torture watching her learn this newfound power of her own body. The slow, languid movements made his eyes roll back in his head, the furtive grind of her hips not nearly enough friction to give him the release he craved.
“Ride me, Bronwyn,” he begged. “Hard, please.”
