One Night With You (The Derrings #3)(61)

Delighted relief rippled through her at his words. Words she thought she would never hear from his lips.

His brown eyes burned golden in the lamp's glow, searing a path directly to her heart. "Tell me you want me to stay. Tell me—"

"I want you to stay," Jane cut in, closing the distance separating them in one step. "I want you." A sob welled up from deep in her chest. "I've always wanted you—" Her voice cracked and she turned, determined to hide her face before she completely crumpled before him.

"Jane," he groaned, hauling her into his arms, showering fierce kisses over every inch of her face before his mouth fell on hers in a savage kiss.

He lifted her in one sweep and dropped her on the bed. Still standing, he shrugged free of his robe and stood before her as she had never seen any man. At Vauxhall it had been too dark, and they had been clothed—for the most part. She had barely made out his face in the shadows. He came over her then, his body a thrilling weight, hard and large upon her. Tonight there would be no darkness.

Her hands roamed his broad back, nails digging into supple skin as he lowered his head to suckle one breast through the thin cotton of her gown. Pleasure-pain lanced through her. His teeth abraded her nipple into a hard point, and she arched against him, crying his name. One of her hands flew to fist in his hair, urging him closer.

Turning his attention to her other breast, he laved her nipple with his hot tongue, inching her nightgown up as he worked.

Cool air licked her calves, her thighs, her hips. With startling deftness, he pulled her nightgown over her head leaving her bare, exposed before him, shaking with both desire and trepidation.

"Jane." His hand hovered above her abdomen, long fingers splayed wide, shaking ever so slightly. His hair fell over his brow, hiding his eyes as he gazed down at her. She didn't need to see them to feel their heat, intent and searing on her. Slowly, his hand lowered to cup the slight swell of her belly. "You're so small," he murmured.

"Not for long."

His gaze shot to hers, amusement flickering there. A smile hugged his well-shaped mouth. She stopped breathing altogether when his head dipped and he pressed a series of open-mouthed kisses over her belly, working his way down her navel.

Warm fingers slid between her legs to tease at her entrance, stroking, spreading her moisture over herself in erotic circles that dragged animal-like mewls from deep in her throat. His finger plunged inside her warmth and she lurched off the bed with a ragged sob.

"Easy," he crooned, his touch magical, working her to a fever pitch. His eyes glowed darkly as he watched her twist and writhe beneath him.

"Now," she pleaded. Her head came off the bed. Legs opening wide, she welcomed him to her as the sky welcomed the sun at dawn. Her fingers trailed the line of his spine, cupping his tight buttocks in her hands and urging him to her—in her.

"Seth," she pleaded, her voice low and desperate, unrecognizable.

"Jane," he groaned, sliding into her in one smooth thrust, filling her with stunning force. For a moment, he remained still, lodged inside her, pulsing in rhythm to the squeezing burn at her center. Every nerve in her body stretched and sang, humming in sweet, agonizing tension as he held himself over her.

An elusive smile played about his mouth as he restrained himself, hands braced on either side of her head. Gradually, he moved his hips, pumping slowly, torturing her with deep, unhurried strokes.

Her gaze devoured the man stretched above her, his beautiful bronze muscles straining over her in a way that made it clear he held himself carefully in check.

The hair fell over his forehead in a straight veil, the lamplight gilding the brown to golden flame. Her trembling fingers brushed it away, watching as it fell back with a will of its own. Her body arched like a bow beneath his thrusts. She flexed her inner muscles around him. His groan filled the air and his thrusts grew harder, slamming into her, stoking the fire he had started within her into a savage blaze. Higher and hotter the flames rose until her skin, her very bones, felt as though they would combust, leaving nothing but ashes behind.

"Seth!" she cried, digging her nails into the smooth muscles of his back. His head dropped to her neck. "That's it, sweetheart," he muttered beneath her ear. One of his hands slid the length of her bare thigh, lifting her leg to better meet his thrusts. He pumped harder, deeper, the friction unbearable, an exquisite pleasure-pain that drove her mad, left her gasping, sobbing, pleading, blubbering incoherently.

But he understood, knew just what to do. Answering her need, he hooked his thumbs beneath her knees and pulled back her legs for deeper a invasion.

At last, she burst, exploded into fire and ice, wind and rain. Shattered until she was a quivering pile of flesh and bones beneath him. Replete, sated, she sank back on the soft bed like a petal landing, content to still feel him over her, thrusting a final time with a loud shout of release. A lazy smile lifted her lips. Rolling off her, he kept an arm loosely about her waist. She waited, expecting him to leave. Marcus had never remained.

Staring at the canopy above her, she stroked his hard bicep, taking pleasure in the sound of his ragged breath near her ear. She had done that to him—robbed him of breath, control. Pleasure suffused her and she snuggled deeper into his arms, her heart clenching when he tightened his hold on her. After awhile his breathing slowed and his hold relaxed. Convinced he slept, she whispered, "You should have been my first." A small ache pinched her heart. His chest vibrated beneath her hand, sending a thrilling shiver up her spine as his deep voice rumbled through the air, "I'll be your last."