the gown; the folds fell to his belly, screening her actions as she guided the blunt head of his erection between her slick folds, then eased back.
Releasing him, she sank slowly back, down, smoothly taking his turgid length into her body.
She shifted, sank further still, until she’d taken him all. Until she sat across his hips, impaled, full of him. He stretched her, completed her; the length and strength of him at her core felt indisputably right.
Her gaze locked with his, she rose slowly up, then slowly sank down.
Fingers braced on his chest, she changed angle, pace, found the rhythm she wanted, one she could maintain, sliding him deeply in, then almost completely out. He clenched his jaw, clenched his fists. His muscles hardened, tightened, as she devoted herself to taking every iota of sensual pleasure she could.
It wasn’t enough.
Wrapped in his gaze, acutely aware of all she could see blazing in the dark depths of his eyes as his body strained, fought his control-as he battled his own instincts to give her all she wanted…
In that moment, she knew. For her, with him, taking would never be enough. She had to give-give him, show him, all she was. All that with him, for him, she could be.
All she could gift him with.
All that blossomed inside her.
She reached down, grasped her nightgown, drew it up, off, flung it aside. His gaze instantly lowered to where they joined. She couldn’t see what he could, imagining was enough; the heat between her thighs flared. Within her, he grew larger, harder; she felt the change in his body between her thighs, deep inside her.
He glanced briefly at her face, then looked down again. His hips undulated beneath hers.
She should have ordered him to stop, to lie still. She didn’t. Breath sawing in her throat, she arched back; head up, arms crossed behind, her hair a wild cascade about her, eyes closed, she gave herself up to the bucking ride, to the overwhelming pleasure, and rode him hard, then harder.
It still wasn’t enough; she needed him deeper.
She sobbed, slowed, desperate…
He swore. Surged up from the waist, his bound wrists passing over her head, trapping her within the circle of his arms. Turning his palms, setting them to her back, his gaze locked with hers, he shifted between her thighs, then thrust up harder, deeper, higher with her.
He settled to a solid, heavy rhythm. His gaze lowered to her lips, inches from his. “You’re still in control.” He glanced up, caught her gaze. “Tell me if you like this.”
He bent, set his lips to her ruched nipple. She cried out. He suckled; she gasped. Sinking her hands in his hair, she held him to her. Held him while he rocked her, pleasured her, while they came together and the sounds and scents of their joining wreathed through her brain, filling, reassuring, exciting.
She wanted more.
More of him.
All of him.
She wanted what he did.
Catching his head between her hands, she urged him to look up.
When he did, dark eyes heavy-lidded, lips rich, fine, wicked, she caught his gaze. Gasped, “Enough. Take me. Finish this.”
His steady thrusting between her thighs didn’t ease. He looked deep. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Surer than of anything in the world. Slowing her own rhythm, she lost herself in his eyes. “However you wish, however you want.”
For one long moment, he held her gaze.
Then she was on her back, flung across his bed, clinging to sanity as with her thighs pressed wide, his bound hands beneath her head, palms cradling it, he thrust into her body, hard, deep-
Sanity fractured and she flew apart.
Royce gasped, fought to hold still so he could savor her release, but the contractions were so strong they ruthlessly, relentlessly drew him on, until with a muffled roar he followed her into oblivion, his release, so long denied, rolling over and through him, powerfully raking him, wrecking him, leaving him drained, a husk buoyed on a welling emotional tide, coming back to life as glory seeped in, and filled him.
As his heart swelled, and he drew in a shuddering breath, through the haze in his brain, he felt her lips caress his temple.
“Thank you.”
The words were a ghost of a whisper, but he heard, slowly smiled.
She had it arse over tit; it was he who should thank her.
A significant time later, he finally summoned sufficient strength to lift from her, roll onto his back, and with his teeth pick apart the knot at his wrists.
She lay slumped alongside him, but she wasn’t asleep. Still smiling, he scooped her up, dragged down the covers, then collapsed on the pillows, arranged her in his arms, and tugged the covers over them.
Without a word, she snuggled against him, all but boneless.
Pleasure, of a depth and quality he’d never thought to feel, rolled over and through him. And sank to his bones.
Tilting his head, he looked into her face. “Did I pass your test?”
“Humph. Somewhere through all that”-she waved weakly toward the end of the bed-“I realized it was a test for me as much as you.”
His lips curved more deeply; he’d wondered if she’d seen that.
Curiously clearheaded, he revisited the events, and even more the emotions-all they’d broached, drawn on, used, revealed, over the last hour.
She was still awake. Waiting to hear what he would say.
He touched his lips to her temple. “Know this.” He kept his voice low; she would hear all he wanted her to hear in his tone. “I will give you anything. Anything and everything I have to give. There is nothing you can ask for that I will not grant you-whatever I have, whatever I am, is yours.”
Each word rang with absolute, unshakable commitment.
A long moment passed. “Do you believe me?”
“Yes.” The answer came without hesitation.
“Good.” Lips curving, settling his head on the pillow, he closed his arms about her. “Go to sleep.”
He knew it was a command, didn’t care. He felt her sigh, felt the last of her tension fade, felt sleep claim her. Taking his own advice, contented to his toes, he surrendered to his dreams.
Nineteen
So what now? What next?
She still had no assurance that at some point what presently flared so hotly between them wouldn’t die…Could she risk accepting his offer?
Could she risk not?
