He rubbed himself against her, leaving her in no doubt he was near the edge. The elaborate carving dug into her back but she didn’t care, as long as he kept touching her. What did minor discomforts matter? No pain could compare with the pain of the separation poised over their passion like a warrant of execution.
“Mrs. Filey might see us,” she moaned, even while her hand slid around his flank to touch his sex. He was massively aroused. She nipped at his neck. He wasn’t wearing a cravat and the sight of his strong, bare throat had enticed her all through dinner.
“Christ, Grace, you drive me mad,” he grated out, leaning his forehead against hers while he fought for breath. He tilted his hips so his hardness filled her hand. “Keep doing that and Mrs. Filey can go to the Devil.”
“You’re my devil,” she whispered. All that male potency under her fingers would soon be hers. She needed him to make her his, to overwhelm her sorrow and fear with passion.
“Always, my love. Always.”
He swung her up into his arms and climbed the staircase. His heart thundered under her cheek. His arms were warm and secure. She pressed her face into his chest, breathing deeply. He smelled of lemon and musk and clean male. She took another lungful of Matthew-scented air. She wanted his essence to permeate so deeply, it lingered forever. Because soon memories would be all she had.
Tears pricked at her eyes. Her hands tightened around his neck although she knew nothing would keep him with her.
He shouldered the bedroom door shut behind him and placed her on her feet with her back to the oak. She flattened her palms on either side of her, wordlessly offering herself. She needed him to hammer at her like a molten ingot on a forge and mold her into something of his creation.
He leaned forward and kissed her hard, using teeth and tongue, as he shoved her skirts up. He wasn’t gentle, but she didn’t want gentleness. There was a sharp ripping sound and her ruined drawers sagged to her feet.
His passion surged with a dark tide she’d never felt before. It was unbearably exciting. Her womb clenched hard with arousal and hot moisture pooled between her quivering thighs.
With careless elegance, he tossed his coat aside. He slid his hand down and released himself from his trousers. He sprang free, hot and ready. She shifted restlessly against the cool wood as another bolt of need sizzled through her.
Then startled, she realized what he meant to do. “Here?”
“Here,” he said with a ruthlessness that thrilled her. When he pushed her against the door, his touch held a savagery that made her tremble. He inclined his head toward the waiting bed. “And there. Later. Lift your leg and rest it on my hip.”
She immediately obeyed, hooking her ankle behind his waist. She hopped to keep her balance. He was too tall for the position to be easy and her skirts bunched in a roll at her waist. “It’s not very comfortable.”
“Trust me,” he said in a voice so deep it surged through her veins like a great wave.
He’d said that so many times in their sexual games. She stretched up on her toes toward his hardness. Not close enough. She wanted him inside her. Now.
“Lean back.” He slipped his hand under her bottom and lifted her. Immediately the strain on her thighs eased.
He stroked the slickness between her legs. She shuddered and cried out as he pushed one finger inside her, then two. The pressure was glorious. Standing like this, she was open to him and he took full advantage. She quaked under his hand but didn’t tumble over into climax. Tonight of all nights, she wanted him with her when she reached her peak.
He didn’t prolong the preliminaries. She was so starved for him, she didn’t mind. She couldn’t doubt how he wanted her. Desire invested his every sawing breath.
He hoisted her higher.
“Matthew!” She gave a startled cry when she left the ground. She twined both legs around him as his sex bobbed against her belly.
“Hold on,” he breathed into her ear. He crowded her against the door and slid in with one massive thrust.
She had no control over his penetration. As her weight came down on him and she took his full length, she gasped. She gasped again with pleasure when he rocked her up and down, using both hands under her. She snatched at his shoulders, testing the coiled tension in his muscles.
He crushed her between his body and the smooth wood. Both were hard and unyielding. As he was hard and unyielding inside her.
Groaning into her shoulder, he drove deeper. Her sorrow, her regret, her longing, her love coalesced into one shining whole. This desperate, rough loving branded her his. Forever.
Passion rose fast. She cried out his name and clenched down hard. In a blinding cataclys
m, her world exploded into scintillating light.
She clung to that ultimate height as long as she could. Even while rapture blasted her like wild summer lightning, helpless tears of loss and heartbreak poured down her cheeks. Vaguely, through shivering pleasure, she felt him pumping into her. Hot. Endless. Hers.
Only until tomorrow.
How could she leave him? Every time they made love, he became more a part of her. Abandoning him would be like having a leg amputated.