The Youngest Dowager: A Regency romance(72)

She sat up, stared at him. Something in the quality of the light – or was it his obvious delight and love for her? – made him look only like Marcus, not in the slightest like his cousin. Marissa took his face in his hands and kissed him, exploring the taste of him with her tongue.

Marcus stayed quite still as she nibbled his earlobe then he gasped as her lips moved down the hard planes of his chest, teasing his nipple before, daringly, exploring further. His skin was satiny, hot with his desire for her, yet she could sense his restraint as he let her set the pace.

Impatient with his patience, she twisted round. pulling his glorious weight on top of her, opening her body to him. ‘Marcus,’ she managed to say, ‘I cannot wait any longer. Make love to me, please.’

And he did, gently at first, but he too was beyond restraint, swept along with the passion of her surrender, giving to her as much as he took.

It seemed hours before they stirred, then Marissa opened her eyes to find him looking into hers with such love that she was almost unable to say, ‘Is that how it is meant to be?’

‘I have no idea.’ Marcus’s voice shook. ‘I have never experienced anything like it. But I suggest we spend the rest of our lives finding out.’



Half an hour later Marissa heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor and looked up into Marcus’s eyes. ‘Early morning tea,’ she whispered.

‘The door’s locked. Do you want me to open it?’

‘No. Not for at least a week.’

‘That, my love, is quite definitely the right answer.’ And he began to make love to her all over again.



The End