The Earl of Davenport: Wicked Regency Romance (Wicked Earls' Club #7)(22)

When his lips moved to her neck, she gasped for air. This fire within her raged out of control. She’d never known she could feel like this, as though she was consumed by longing, her muscles trembling with need.

She’d never felt so needy, and it was a desire no one but this man could fulfill.

“Please,” she whimpered, even though she didn’t know what she was begging for.

He seemed to know. With an answering groan, he gently guided her onto the bed, moving over her so their bodies were pressed together in the most intimate ways. His hard chest bore down on her breasts, giving her some satisfaction even as the pressure made her ache for more.

He parted her legs slightly, easing his weight down so he lay between her thighs.

She cried out at the hard contact, which only intensified the ache. He was hard against her and she found herself arching against him, trying to get closer even through the skirts of her gown.

“We should wait,” he murmured. “Until we are wed.”

She shook her head, need winning out over reason. “No waiting.” What difference did one day make when their wedding was so close?

“Please,” she whispered. “I want this.”

His groan spoke of his surrender and his kisses turned frantic and wild. She met each one with a passion of her own, reveling in the new feelings and allowing her mind and body to get lost in sensation.

She didn’t want to think about the love she would be missing out on. Her fate was sealed. There was no turning back now, even if she wanted to. If he could not return her feelings, she would bear it. She would have to.

Either way, at least she would have this man as her own. That was worth everything. Even if he never loved her, that wouldn’t stop her from loving him.

And she did love him. Maybe she always had.

A joy spread through her, so pure and simple it seemed to come from deep inside of her. A trapped wellspring of emotion that was set free with this new knowledge. She loved this man. She would love him even if it was unrequited.

His lips moved to her neck, his voice whispering words of need and desire. Not love, no, but for tonight she would accept this gift she’d been given, be grateful for it, and not ask for more.

Tonight she would give—she’d give this man her body and her heart. Fully and completely. For that was what it meant to love. It meant to give completely with no promise of return.

She said none of that, but instead told him with her touch that she was his. All of her.

He seemed to understand, his gaze darkening, his touch softening. His look and touch so tender and sweet, filled with adoration and gratitude.

Tears were in her eyes as he stripped the last of her garments from her skin, leaving her bare before his fiery gaze.

“Are you certain?” he asked.

She nodded, a smile on her lips as she tugged him back down so he covered her once more. “I’ve never been more certain.” And this was true. This intimacy with him... it felt right. It felt good. Wed or not, this was where she was meant to be.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, his lips returning to her skin as he nuzzled her breasts and caressed her, his voice filled with a tender promise. She basked in his attentions, choosing to trust in the emotion in his eyes, in the feeling in his voice.

His hands moved over her stomach and hips, stroking her thighs until she couldn’t bear it any longer. She whimpered with need and only then did his hand move to the juncture between her thighs to stroke her.

She cried out, clinging to his shoulders as he murmured soothing words, urging her to trust him.

“I do,” she whispered, her voice so hoarse and needy she hardly recognized it. “I trust you.”

He stilled over her before moving back so she could see his eyes. And what she saw there… it was something like wonder. Awe, even. And then his head was dropping back down, his lips claiming hers as he thrust his hard length into her, making her stiffen and cry out.

He held her tighter, murmuring words of comfort. “I’m sorry, my angel. It won’t hurt for long, I promise.”

And it didn’t. Soon her body adjusted to his and she could feel herself opening to him. He eased inside of her slowly at first and then when she was comfortable, she started to move along with him, her hips arching up to meet his and to take him in fully.

Her head dropped back and she gasped for air as he seemed to touch a place inside of her she hadn’t known existed. The intimacy of the act, the feel of his heated skin pressing against hers, of their bodies becoming one—it was overwhelming and all encompassing.

The ache within her grew, a fire stoked mercilessly by his roving hands and warm, firm lips. Soon the rhythm between them grew quicker and more intense, their breathing labored and rasping in the quiet bedroom as sweet whispers and longing murmurs blended with whimpers, groans, and at last her cry of pleasure as she came apart in his arms.

She heard his groan as he followed her over the edge into this blissful place where all that mattered was the way his body felt, the way her heart hammered against his, and the way his breath whispered against her as he kissed her neck, her cheek, and then her lips.

She was in a delightful fog of bliss, vaguely aware of him cleaning her and then himself before slipping back into bed beside her. Between the crying and travel and the emotional upheaval of the day, she couldn’t fight off the exhaustion that had made her eyes impossibly heavy.