Angel in Scarlet (Bound and Determined #4)(85)

And she was becoming aware of that other ache again, the one that coiled within her, that grew and grew until it burst. She lifted her pelvis, shifted the cradle of her hips, changing the angle. Oh, now, that felt different. He’d rubbed against some spot far within her, some spot that had her instantly aware, feeling things she had not felt before, even at the moment of orgasm. She wiggled again, trying to repeat the experience.

He eased farther in.

Her eyes widened. He was big. She could feel the stretch, her body opening to accommodate him.

The tendons in his neck were straining now, his whole body crying with the effort not to move more.

Flattening her feet on the bed, she suddenly pushed up, burying him deep within her.

Full. She’d never felt so full, never imagined such a feeling. It was odd but not unpleasant. She shifted again, trying to find that inner spot, trying to increase the contact.

“You are killing me,” he growled.

“Then quit treating me as if I will break. From all I’ve heard, the worst is over.”

He stared at her, one last question in his eyes. And then he moved. God, she’d thought she’d taken his all, but he pressed yet deeper. Withdrew. Pushed in again, hard, fast. Again. Again.

The ache of pleasure within her multiplied, filling her. His body ground against her clit as she spread her thighs wider, raising her hips. He hit that inner spot, and her body spasmed slightly.

She tightened her muscles on instinct, gripping him further.

He sank deep, pulled back, grinding against her on each thrust.

Her whole mind was focused on her body, on the sensations that filled her, wave after wave. Her whole mind was focused on his eyes, on the secrets there, on the bond between them—on his soul. Both were true despite the impossibility of such a thing. Each pound, each thrust, sent her further into those bottomless eyes, made her feel all that he was, all that she was, all that they could be.

She felt it coming then, the waves breaking upon the shore, the slide, the pull.

Her whole body clenched, rising upon the bed to meet his.

She stared into his eyes—and surrendered, letting it burst within her, emptying her, filling her, until there was no more.

He held himself a moment longer, and then, with a violent shudder and a loud cry, he came, pounding harder and faster, until with one long thrust he collapsed upon her.

She lay still, her body miles away, drifting on a sea of spent pleasure, warm, content, boneless.

His weight grew heavy, but she did not mind; to speak, to move, would have taken more effort than she was capable of. And so she closed her eyes and let her mind go, following her body into that endless sea.

—

“We should move,” Colton said, when at last he felt capable.

She grunted beneath him, cute and breathless, tickling the hairs upon his chest. Rolling to the side, he cradled her and pulled her with him, never wanting to let her go.

“What did you say?”

“I don’t want to.”

He did not want to either. “But we must. I don’t think we want to be found like this.”

“You said we had hours.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

This time she snorted. “I thought we were done with being safe.”

“There is taking a risk and there is simply being foolish.”

She lifted her head, her blond curls, long escaped from their braid, falling all about him. “Now you tell me.”

“Are you sorry?” He asked, his eyes scanning her face.

“Never.”

“Are you sure?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Are you trying to make me doubt?”

“Never,” it was his turn to respond.

With slow effort, she pushed herself up and reclined on her elbow. “What comes next?”

“Next we wash with the water in the pitcher and then head off to meet at the folly. I will happily play your lady’s maid before we go.”

She sighed. “I had heard that men were very bad at the sweet words a woman wants at such a moment. I think every female conversation I’ve ever heard on the subject has remarked on just that.”

What had he missed? What more did he need to do to make this better for her? “Did you want me to spend time telling you how wonderful you were, how beautiful you are?”

“It certainly would not be a bad idea.” She sat up fully in the bed, glancing about to see if there was anything she could cover herself with. It felt strange to sit naked after all was done, but the coverlet was still smooth and impossible to move beneath their double weight.

“I could write odes to both your breasts and ass—but, alas, I am not a poet. I think it would sound more like a drink song than a poem.” He said it as a joke but hoped she could hear the serious undertone.





Chapter 25


Men truly did understand nothing. She needed to be reassured. Why could he not see that? She might be joking, but some acknowledgment that what had just happened between them was important—not to mention the best he’d ever experienced—would have been helpful.

She grabbed her chemise and corset and pulled them on. Her corset wasn’t quite as tight as her maid would have made it, but it would do. She followed with her gown, turning her back so that he could work on her laces.

She paused for a moment as she felt his hands upon her back. She had wanted this to be easy, had hoped that once they made love everything would be resolved. Was she being too emotional and demanding? Being unreasonable?