Love and the Single Heiress

Everything he felt, all the love and desire burning in him, all the battles he’d waged to contain those feelings for so long were voiced in that single, heartfelt word. And the instant his lips touched hers, those battles were lost.

With a groan that bordered on pain, he pulled her against him. Each new sensation barely had time to blink in his mind before it was supplanted with another. Her body pressed against his from chest to knee. Soft breasts, aroused nipples, crushed against his chest. Her hands rippling through his hair. His palms skimming down her back to cup her buttocks, Catherine returning the favor. The weight of her breast filling his hand. Bending his head to lave her nipple with his tongue, then draw the aroused bud into his mouth. Absorbing her guttural groan of his name. Another deep, soul-searching kiss. Soft skin beneath his hands. Sleek, moist feminine flesh between her thighs, swollen with want.

She glided her fingers down the length of his erection, and he broke off their kiss to suck in a harsh breath.

“Did I hurt you?”

Unable to speak, he shook his head.

“I want to touch you, Andrew.”

Gritting his teeth, he rested his forehead against hers and withstood the sweet torture of her fingers stroking him for as long as he could. But when she wrapped her fingers around his erection and gently squeezed, he grasped her wrist. His lips captured hers in a hard, passionate kiss, a frantic melding of lips and tongues. Without breaking their kiss, he lowered her onto her back on the quilt, then covered her body with his own. She spread her legs and groaned, and he bent his head to touch his tongue to the pleasure-filled sound vibrating at the base of her throat.

Propping his weight on his palms, he watched her in the flickering golden light while he slowly entered her body. A tumble of wild chestnut curls, in disarray from his exploring hands, surrounded her head. Her lips were red and moist and slightly parted, while her chest rose and fell with her rapid, shallow breaths. Her dusky nipples were damp and erect from his mouth. But it was the stark need, the acute want in her eyes that undid him.

He slowly thrust into her warm, wet velvet heat, and squeezed his eyes shut against the fierce pleasure. He wanted to go slowly, make this last, but his body, so long denied, was beyond his control. His strokes lengthened, quickened. Deeper. Harder. She met his every thrust, urging him on, her fingers digging into his shoulders. She tensed beneath him, surging her hips upward while exhaling a long, ooohh of pleasure. Helpless to contain his release any longer, he buried his face in the fragrant crook of her shoulder and throbbed inside her wet heat for an endless, miraculous moment that left him breathless, weak, utterly contented, and, damn near dead.

Catherine lay beneath Andrew’s delicious weight- breathless, weak, utterly contented, and more alive than she’d ever felt in her entire life.

This was what all the fuss was about. This was what she’d been missing her entire marriage. This was the splendid wonder described in A Ladies’ Guide, although nothing in the book’s vivid commentary and instructions had sufficiently prepared her for such an incredible, intimate experience.

With her eyes closed, she took a moment to savor the aftermath, not wanting the stunning pleasure to end. Andrew’s ragged breaths beating against her ear. His body covering hers, heated skin to heated skin. His arms still wrapped tightly around her, as if he never wanted to let her go. Her arms encircling his broad shoulders, also reluctant to release. His heartbeat pounding against her breasts. And the dazzling sensation of his body still intimately joined with hers. No, she had not known that it would be like this.

Or that he would quickly become quite so heavy.

Not that she didn’t relish the feel of him on top of her, but the need to draw a deep breath was about to overtake the pleasure of him covering her like a human blanket.

Whether he sensed her need or simply possessed good timing she didn’t know, but just then he stirred. After brushing a kiss against her cheek, he shifted to prop his weight on his forearms and looked down at her, his eyes dark and intense, his breathing still not quite steady. His midnight hair, mussed from her frantic fingers, spilled over his forehead. Reaching up, she brushed the strands aside, only to have them tumble out of place again.

“You look rather disheveled,” she said, with a smile.

“As do you. Delightfully so.” He lowered his head and kissed her. A slow, deep, intimate kiss that conveyed better than any words could have that he’d found their love-making as satisfying as she. A kiss that rekindled the flame he’d extinguished only moments ago.

“I’m going to want to do all that again,” she whispered against his lips, trailing her fingers lightly down his spine.

“I don’t know when I’ve heard better news. But I’m afraid I’ll need a few minutes to recover first.” Dropping a quick kiss onto her mouth, he eased from her body, then rolled onto his back, bringing her along.

Sprawled across his chest, Catherine watched him stuff one of the pillows beneath his head. After loosely wrapping his arms around her, his eyelids drooped.

Her brows shot upward. “Don’t tell me you’re tired!”

He chuckled. “All right. I won’t tell you that.”

“But you are!” Her voice was ripe with accusation. “How can that be? I’ve never felt more energetic in my entire life.” She tickled her fingers down his abdomen. “I can hardly stay still.”

“A fact that will greatly reduce my recovery time, I assure you.”

“So you’re not feeling wonderful?”

“I feel incredibly wonderful. But in a ‘wrung-out sponge’ manner, as opposed to your ‘filled with vigor’ manner.”

“Humph. Wrung-out sponge does not sound very… encouraging.”

A deep chuckle rumbled in his throat. “Actually, I meant it as a compliment to you.”

“Indeed? I think it is time for me to fetch a dictionary so you can look up compliment. I’m certain that ‘wrung-out sponge’ is not given as an example.”

“My darling Catherine, I am wrung out because you satisfied me so completely. So absolutely.” His hands skimmed down her back. “As I’ve never been satisfied before.”

My darling Catherine. Heavens, that sounded… lovely. Especially in that husky growl his voice had become. “Well, I can certainly say the same thing to you. In fact, I’m anxious to tell you about all the firsts I’ve experienced since I entered the gazebo. Would you like to hear about the things I’ve discovered?”

“I’d be delighted.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you certain you won’t doze off? You look suspiciously sleepy.”

He dipped his chin and looked down at her with a sinful smile. “I’m not sleepy. I’m sated. I assure you that you have my full attention.”

“Very well. I’ve never undressed a man before.” She traced a series of light circles on his bare chest. “I’ve never seen a naked man before.”

One dark brow shot upward. “Never?”

She shook her head, her chin bumping against his chest. Then she sat up and skimmed her gaze down his length. “Although I have nothing to compare you to, I think you are most likely a very well made specimen.”

One corner of his lovely mouth lifted. “Thank you.”

“I very much like the way your skin feels. Warm and firm.” Unable to stop touching him, she rested her hand against his shoulder, then slowly dragged her palm down the center of his chest. “I’ve never seen, or touched hair on a man’s chest. It’s a bit coarse, but soft at the same time. And your muscles… an enthralling delight. So strong, under all that warm, firm skin.” She skimmed a single fingertip slowly downward. “This ribbon of dark hair is absolutely fascinating. The way it starts at your chest, then continues downward, bisecting these lovely ripples on your stomach, then spreads again to cradle…”Her voice drifted off as her gaze riveted on his manhood. “… this part of you that so captivates me, that brought me such incredible sensations. Even at rest you are impressive.” She lightly circled the tip of him with her index finger. “I’ve never touched a man like this before,” she whispered.

He swallowed, then levered himself up onto his side, propping his weight on his forearm. His dark eyes regarded her with an unreadable expression. Reaching out, he cradled her face in his palm and brushed the pad of his thumb over her cheek. “I’m sorry your marriage was not a happy one, Catherine.”

To her mortification, hot tears pushed behind her eyes. “I realized very quickly that with Bertrand I’d been