A Night to Surrender (Spindle Cove #1)(95)

Her hand flew to the closures of his breeches front. She adjusted her weight, giving herself space to work the buttons free. The shift in her pose thrust her bosom in his face. Bending his head, he nuzzled the soft pillows of her br**sts, greedily thrusting his tongue into the dark, fragrant valley between them.

As he kissed and licked the luscious curves, a needy whimper eased from her throat. “I need you,” she said, reaching through the unbuttoned flap to stroke his aroused flesh. “I need you now.”

She didn’t need to ask twice. He worked his c**k through the layers of buckskin and fabric, positioning the engorged, eager tip just at the entrance to bliss.

She lowered herself a fraction of an inch, then backed off—her slick heat lapping at the crown of his erection. He thought he would lose his mind, but he forced himself to be patient for a moment more, allowing his head to fall back so he could drink in the sight of her. The coils and wisps of her molten bronze hair, tumbling loose around her pale shoulders. Those full, berry-stained lips, swollen with his kisses. The flush of passion on her face. So beautiful, she made his heart twist.

He guided her hips, until she settled in just the right spot. And then he helped her sink by slow degrees. Inch by delicious inch. Until molten bliss enveloped him, all the way to the root.

They stayed that way for a long moment, each of them panting for breath, resisting the desire to move.

When the desire to move became an imperative, she rolled her hips. Slowly at first, but quickly accelerating to a brisk, urgent rhythm. He helped with his hands, clutching her backside tight and lifting, lowering . . . sliding her over his rigid length again and again. Faster, harder. Until their bodies met with resounding, erotic smacks of skin against skin.

Her brow fell to his shoulder. He could tell from the helpless whimpers of pleasure rising from her throat, she was close to the edge. He was already dangling over the edge, clinging to it by his gritted teeth. Pleasure buzzed up and down his spine, desperate for an outlet.

Hold out, he told himself. Just a minute more.

He needed to feel her body convulse around him, hear the cries she made when the pleasure hit. His pleasure would be meaningless without hers.

Knowing full well it would shred the last remnants of his control, he arched his hips for deeper penetration and quickened his thrusts. Her breath came hot and fast against his ear. Her nails bit into the soft flesh of his nape, and her br**sts galloped against his chest. He was losing his battle for restraint, careening full-speed toward what was sure to be the most devastating pleasure of his life.

“Love, I can’t hold back.”

“Stay,” she said. “Stay with me.”

“Come,” he forced through gritted teeth. “Come with me.”

They stayed together, and they came together. Bucking, gasping, clutching each other tight. With the first tight, delicious pulse of her climax, she pulled him straight over the edge into bliss. Somehow her mouth found his, and they swallowed each other’s cries of passion. Bram thought he would burst from his skin with elation. The blinding pleasure of his climax was only eclipsed by the fierce joy of filling her with his seed.

She was his now, forever. And he was hers, body and soul.

They were one.

“Stay,” she murmured, slumping forward and pressing her damp brow to his chin. “Stay with me.”

His heart squeezed. He wouldn’t desert her, ever. But he had orders now, and she needed to get away from this place. “Come,” he said. “Come with me.”

She made a sound of incredulity.

“I’m perfectly serious. It’s not exactly a pleasure cruise, but I have guaranteed passage to the Continent next week. Come with me. As my wife.”

Her brow creased. “But . . . I thought you believed women don’t belong on campaign.”

He forced down the instinctive surge of worry. “Most don’t. But you’re stronger than most. You know how to look out for yourself. We’ll sail from Portsmouth, and the captain can marry us on board. We’ll honeymoon in Portugal.” He skipped a light touch up her spine, tangled his fingers in her hair. “It’s beautiful there, Susanna. Vineyards and olive trees. An ocean so warm and blue. Groves of citrus, overburdened with fruit. Imagine, wading ankle-deep in lemons and oranges. The scent haunts you for days.” He nuzzled her neck. “We’ll let a villa by the sea. We’ll make love on sandy beaches.”

“I was thinking it might be nice to make love in a bed, just the once.”

“I’ll buy you the finest bed you ever imagined. Heaped with mattresses three feet thick. Sheets of silk and the softest down pillows.”

“It sounds lovely, but . . .”

“But nothing. Just say yes.”

She lifted herself off his flagging erection and resettled on his lap. Her lip folded under her teeth, and her eyes were downcast. Maybe he was pushing her too hard, too fast. He took his time refastening his breeches, giving her a moment to contemplate.

“I know this day has been devastating for you. You’re feeling confused, overwhelmed, betrayed. But I’m here to tell you, there’s only one decision you need to make right now. And that’s to trust me. Trust me to look after your happiness, Susanna. I swear, I will not let you down.”

“I do trust you. I’d trust you with my life. But think of the village, Bram. All the young ladies.”