A Week to Be Wicked (Spindle Cove #2)(98)

“Yes.” She writhed against him, wild and slick and hot.

“Love me?” His voice was so hoarse with yearning, the words got lost in his throat. He slid into her, pushing his hard length into her tight body. “Love me,” he grunted, driving the words home on a thrust. “Love. Me.”

“Yes.” She gasped with pleasure, canting her pelvis to take him deep. “Yes.”

He pumped her steadily, driving into her at just the angle he knew she craved. “Love me. Don’t ever stop. You hear me? It won’t be this good with anyone else. Only me, Min. Only me.”

“Colin.” She dug her nails into his shoulders and pulled herself off the wall, confronting him face to face. Her tongue made a quick, hungry swipe at his. “I love you. Stop talking.”

Fair enough.

He pressed her back against the wall. No more discussion. Only joining and clasping and thrusting. And kissing, hot and wet and deep. Only this desperate, visceral need to get closer, in every possible way.

Without warning, her body bowed and tensed. She clung to him as the crisis hit, crying out against his ear. Her intimate muscles tightened, sending pulsing waves of friction down his cock.

This time, he didn’t hold back. Couldn’t, even if he tried. He rode the crest of her pleasure, thrusting frenzied as her climax pulled him straight into his own.

When he came inside her, the sheer blinding joy of it was like nothing he’d ever known. It took him outside himself. Sent him spinning into a strange, dark place. He was lost there, for a moment, stranded in bliss. But soon, her soothing caress led him back.

She would always lead him back from the darkness.

How could she not? She held his heart.

“Minerva.” Spent and trembling, he buried his face in her neck. “I need to ask you something.”

“You do?”

“Yes. This is a very important question. One I’ve never posed to any woman before. I want you to think carefully about your answer.”

She nodded.

“After all this madness is over, and I see you safely back home . . . do you think you could see fit to . . .” He swallowed hard and lifted his gaze to hers. “To let me court you?”

Her lips fell apart. “Court me. You . . . you want to court me?”

“Yes. Very much so. More than anything.”

“Colin, you do realize you’re currently inside me.”

“I’m exquisitely aware of that, yes.”

Her fingers sifted through the hair at his temples. “Then the horse is through the gate, isn’t it? Don’t you think formal courting would be an unnecessary bother at this point?”

“Not a bother at all.” He kissed the confused twist from her lips. “And I think it’s necessary indeed. You deserve to be courted, Min. Flowers, picnics, walks in the park, and all the rest of it. And if I do say it myself, I have a suspicion I’ll be rather brilliant at courting, once I apply myself.”

“I’m very sure you will be, but—”

“The season will be in full swing soon.” He gently withdrew from her, then set her back on her toes. “I’ll convince your mother to send you to London, so I can lavish attention on you in front of the entire ton.”

“How on earth would we manage that, after we’ve returned unwed from this scandalous journey? Even with your cousin’s help, the gossip will be vicious.”

He tsked. “Even if there is some scandal and we’re denied vouchers at fusty old Almacks, what of it? We’ll be welcome any number of other places. Balls, opera, the theater, Vauxhall. We’ll be the talk of London.”

“Yes, I can imagine. They’ll all be wondering what that awkward little bluestocking slipped in your wine to make you go so addled.”

“No. Don’t speak that way.” He propped a finger under her chin. “I hate it when you speak ill of yourself, Min. I’d visit bodily harm on anyone who dared insult you, but I don’t know how to guard you from yourself. So kindly do me a favor, and just . . . don’t. All right?”

“All right.”

Her bottom lip trembled. He traced it fondly. “Spoiling you will bring me so much pleasure. I’ll make you feel like a queen. I’ll do everything I can to win you.”

“But Colin, don’t you realize . . .” Affection warmed her brown eyes. “There’s no need to win me. I’ve told you, I’m yours.”

He scooped her into his arms and carried her back to the fire, setting her on the carpet. Her chemise was rumpled and torn, so he retrieved his shirt and helped her into it. He fit it over her head, lifting her dark, lovely hair through the collar and arranging the locks about her face. His shirt looked well on her, the open collar offering a saucy glimpse of her unbound br**sts. Her eyes shone, and a pretty blush kissed her cheeks.

God, he loved the look of her well tumbled. His heart and his loins argued he should marry her at once and keep her here, so he could start enjoying this sight every day. Every night.

But for once, he was going to let his brain make the decisions. When he acted on impulse, even his best intentions went bad. A hasty marriage, tempting as it sounded, simply wasn’t the right way.

He pulled on his discarded trousers and sat cross-legged with her, before the fire.

“You’re so young,” he began.