The stomach-turning jolt when he touched her told her she’d made the right decision. Bergamot flooded her senses, made her long to bury her nose in his neck. His hands slid over her, arms wrapped around her, locking her tightly against him. His mouth came down on hers, his lips finding hers easily.
Ivo felt the shiver that ran through George as he kissed her. He pulled her to him, hands sliding around her, down her back, around her ribs, settling at her waist.
He’d been too wound up to sleep. His mind wouldn’t stop churning, picturing George dead at the base of that big oak. Amber eyes dim before he could reach her. Dead in the mud beside her carriage. Dead in a country inn before he’d ever touched her…
His whole body was shaking, with need, with desire, with fear that she’d pull away. She stepped back, pulling him along, and came to rest against the door. Ivo leaned in to her and allowed his still unsteady hands to slide down her sides. He gripped her hips, hands clenched in the thick fabric of her robe. He wasn’t about to let her slip away.
George gave an impatient shove and pulled back from him, her eyes staring up into his. Her gaze was locked on him as clearly as the insistent proof of his desire pressed against her belly.
If he hesitated, she’d be gone. She was like a bird, tempted to steal a bit of bread from a child’s hand, ready to take flight at even the slightest movement.
George watched him warily, head slanted back and away from him. He kicked off his slippers, and she smiled, triumphant. Nothing more than a flash of teeth in the moonlight.
Her hands went to the front of his banyan and loosened the buttons. She pushed it off his shoulders, and he allowed it to slide off and pool at his feet. She grinned at his intake of breath as the warm silk left his body, left him naked in the firelight, unmistakably eager.
She bit her lip, slid her arms around his neck, and drew him to her. Hands slid into his hair, fisted and pulled. Ivo dragged her to the bed. Hissed as she bit his neck, hard. Her mouth slid down his neck, hot and wet, teeth in play all the way. Without letting go of her he fell back into the enormous curtained bed, sprawled beside her, one leg crossing her hips and holding her in place.
She kissed him hungrily, tongue twining with his. He slid one hand inside her robe. It was a heavy, quilted wrapper, decidedly in his way. He rolled off her slightly, leaned back on one elbow, chuckling as he tugged at the belt.
‘Where did you get this thing?’ He pushed the offending garment open, distracted by her circling one of his nipples lightly with her thumb. Little jolts of lightning were coursing through his body, starting in that nipple and exploding in his cock.
‘It’s warm,’ George replied, sliding one foot provocatively along his bare leg. ‘And it’s not as though I was planning on anyone seeing me in it when I packed it.’
Ivo laughed again at the slightly petulant note in her voice, then returned to the task at hand. Tonight he wasn’t going to rush; he had all the time in the world. Tonight he was not going to be the trembling creature he’d been at Oundale, completely at her mercy. Nor the overly eager lover in her town house. Tonight he was prepared to give as good as he got. Tonight was about making sure she’d never be able to ride away from him again. Never be able to deny him again.
With her wrapper loosened, there was only one layer more between them, of lawn so fine it couldn’t hide the peaks of her nipples, or the shadow at the apex of her thighs.
Never taking his eyes from hers, he ran his hand down the front of her, caressing her breast, circling the slight indentation formed by her bellybutton with his thumb. He straddled her, making sure she could see the rampant state of his cock. Leaned down to kiss her again, pressing that same appendage into her belly.
Her hands slid down his ribs, circled to his back. She twisted beneath him. Nails grazed his back, her breathing degenerated into short pants.
Ivo slid his body slowly down hers, hands tracing her curves as he went, mouth following his hands: down her neck, along her collarbone, across her chest to her breasts, where he stopped to suckle through the sheer material of her gown. He nipped at her belly, at her hip bones, slipped one hand up under the hem of her nightgown and pushed it up to her waist as he continued down to her knees, licked the ticklish backs of them before working his way up her thigh. She murmured something incoherent as he parted her thighs and lightly bit the tendon on the inside of her leg.
George gasped as Dauntry pressed his mouth to her, parting her with his lips and tongue. She moved one hand down to rest lightly on his head, caught up in the sensation.
She arched, peaked nipples rubbing against the cold, wet fabric of her nightgown. He worked his way slowly, tantalizingly, teasingly up to the throbbing peak near the top of her cleft, locked his mouth over her, teeth clearly evident as he sucked swollen flesh into his mouth.
In seconds she was mewling, an incoherent flood of sounds dragged from her throat. She couldn’t hold still under his carefully orchestrated assault. Her hips began to twist, her feet strained against the bedclothes.
Not yet finished, he brought one arm back around her thigh and up over her body, and with his hand splayed out across her belly,
