He was in danger of being swept away by his passion. The urge to mate, to pound hard came upon him. But his pledge to bring her satisfaction was one vow he was determined to keep.
“Don’t move,” he said, releasing her hands. “We need out of these damn breeches.”
She unhooked her legs, and he shuffled lower. With numerous sweeps of his tongue, he lavished her nipple, sucked and licked until she was panting.
She dug her fingers into his hair, guiding him to the other breast in need of the same level of devotion.
“Hurry, Valentine,” she gasped. “I’m not sure how long I can wait.”
“Desire can be overwhelming.” As could love, he thought. “Tell me you need me—in your life, in your body.”
“I have never needed anything more.”
Ava watched him come to stand at the edge of the bed. He dragged his shirt over his head and then unfastened the buttons on his breeches. She watched him yank them down below his hips, watched the solid length of his manhood spring free.
Heavens above!
She should be frightened, but every bit of this man was as spectacular as the rest.
Needing no further inducement to hurry, Valentine undid the buttons on her breeches and tugged. The white drawers she wore underneath stunned him momentarily.
“Breeches can be uncomfortable for a lady” was the only explanation she offered when he gave a frustrated sigh.
“I understand your need for wearing them,” he said, while she peeked at his throbbing erection. “But it is yet another layer of clothing keeping me from entering your body.”
Ava wiggled her hips as he drew the undergarment down to her knees. With a final tug, it joined the other discarded clothes on the floor.
Valentine’s scorching gaze scanned every part of her naked body.
“Is something wrong?” she said, feeling vulnerable and exposed as he focused on the dark triangle of curls at the apex of her thighs.
“Wrong? For once in my life, everything is right.”
Relief coursed through her. She feared his gallantry might prevent him proceeding. Tonight, she wanted to experience the physical bond of love. Tonight, she wanted the sinner, not the saint.
“I want you, Valentine,” she said, should he be in any doubt.
“Then you shall have me.”
He crawled up to kneel on the edge of the bed, giving her ample opportunity for another glimpse at the length of his arousal—so hard and solid. She expected him to cover her body, to have his thick rod of masculinity press against her intimate place. But he surprised her by spreading her legs wide and moistening his lips as if hungry for a feast.
“Prepare to be pleasured, madam,” he said as he bent his head.
He left a trail of scorching kisses from her knee to the top of her thigh. When he moved between her legs, she wondered what he would do, but the sudden kiss pressed to her flesh sent a jolt of excitement straight to her core.
Her heart shot up to her throat.
“Valentine, wait.” She threaded her fingers into his hair, trying to stall him.
The lick of his tongue on her aching bud robbed her of the will to fight.
r /> He glanced up at her, those smouldering blue eyes conveying confidence. “I will keep my vow to you, Ava,” he said, before delving into the forbidden place she never imagined a man would look at let alone lick and kiss and suck until—
“Valentine.”
Like a wild wanton, she writhed against his expert mouth. The coil inside wound tighter and tighter until she wanted to cry out his name, wanted to take him with her on a glorious journey to fulfilment. And then the coil snapped.
Waves of ecstasy rippled through her body.