Hungrily.
She surrendered her mouth, opened to his onslaught, and gave him, ceded to him, all he desired. For long moments, sunk in her body, he simply devoured, then she tried to move, tried to ease up and use her body to satisfy the rampant demand of his—and discovered she couldn’t.
That she couldn’t move at all unless he permitted it, that impaled as she was, she was wholly in his power.
That the rest of this script was entirely his to write—and hers to experience, to endure.
He showed her—showed her how he could lift her as little or as much as he wished, then lower her, as slowly or as rapidly as he wanted. That the power and depth of his penetration of her body was wholly his to decree.
That their journey to the top of the peak would be at his command.
She’d given herself to him, now he intended to take—all and everything he could from her.
He lifted her, and brought her down, one hand still at her nape, that arm wrapped about her body, pressing it to his so the movement of their joining made her breasts ride against his chest. With one arm about her hips, that hand spread beneath her bottom, her legs wrapped, now tight, about his waist, her arms slung around his shoulders, her hands spread on his back, he could feel her all around him, and she was wholly locked within his embrace.
A naked, primitive embrace that suited him well. That would deliver her to him—make her surrender to him—at an even deeper, more primal level.
Minerva drew back from the kiss on a gasping sob, head rising as, breasts swelling, she struggled to find breath.
He let her, then, hand firming at her nape, drew her back.
Kissed her again.
Took, seized, and devoured again.
His hands were suddenly much more demanding, their grip like fire, just this side of painful, elementally commanding as he moved her on him, against him, flayed her senses in every possible way inside and out until she wrenched back from the kiss, let her head fall back, and gave herself up to him.
To the fires that raged between them, building and growing, then erupting in molten passion so hot it seared and scalded, branded and marked.
Flames, hungry and greedy, rose up and washed over them, through them, spreading beneath their skins and consuming as the insistent, persistent, tempo of his possession escalated and claimed her anew.
Made her burn anew, made her fragment and scream, made her cling and sob as he joined her.
As, at the last, she felt him, hard and hot and undeniably real, undeniably him, buried deep within her, deeper than he’d ever been.
Deep enough to touch her heart.
Deep enough to lay claim to that, too.
The thought drifted through her mind, but she let it go, let it fade as he carried her to his bed, and collapsed with her across it.
Holding her against his heart.
At the very last, she heard him groan, “Especially in this, we make an excellent team.”
Fifteen
Two nights later, Minerva slipped into Royce’s rooms, and gave thanks that Trevor was never there waiting. As per her recent habit, she’d left Royce and the rest of the company downstairs and slipped away—to come here, to his rooms, to his bed.
Walking into the now familiar bedroom, she found herself quietly amazed at how easy their liaison had become, how comfortable she’d grown over such a short time with the daily and nightly rhythms.
The last days had passed in a whirl of preparations, both for the house party and for the fair itself. As the major house in the district, the castle was always first in donating and parti
cipating, an association the household staff maintained regardless of the interest of their masters.
She’d always made time for the fair. Run under the auspices of the local church, the fair raised funds both for the upkeep of the church as well as for numerous projects for the betterment of the local flock. A flock the castle would always have a vested interest in, a fact she used to justify the expenditure of time and goods involved.
Stripping off her gown, she was aware of an unexpected contentment. Given Margaret’s, Aurelia’s, and Susannah’s involvement this year, matters might have been much worse, but all was progressing smoothly on both the house party and the fair fronts.