“Look me in the eye and say that,” Phineas said, lifting his head and arching one eyebrow.
Lenore met his eyes and smiled. “It’s true. I swear it’s true.”
He believed her. He showed her that much by changing the intensity of his touch just enough to send her rocketing over the edge into orgasm. In spite of the buildup and mad sensations of pleasure she’d been feeling as he teased her, the strength of her orgasm came as a surprise. It throbbed through her, ripping a cry from her lungs and setting her on fire from the inside out.
Even better was the way he repositioned himself between her legs and thrust into her with abandon before she was finished coming, vocalizing every bit of relief he felt at being inside of her once more. His size was only half of the mind-shattering pleasure of him joining with her. He knew exactly how to move and how to hold her so that she felt as though the two of them were suddenly the only two creatures in the world and as if their entire purpose were to fuck. The result was that her orgasm throbbed on and on in concert with his movements, and when he finally tensed and came inside of her with a sensual cry, she was utterly wrecked.
Almost better than the power of her orgasm was the warm, floating feeling of satisfaction that followed as the two of them collapsed together, fighting to catch their breaths. They lay there in a tangle on top of his bedcovers for a moment before Phineas pulled back to dispose of his French letter, then shuffled Lenore between the sheets so that they could nestle together in post-orgasmic contentment. That surprised her as much as anything else. She’d always been given to understand that men lost all interest in women as soon as their needs were satisfied. But Phineas seemed to be eager for a whole different kind of intimacy as he cradled her against him, stroked her hair, and stole feather-light kisses from her swollen lips.
“Thank you,” he said on a sigh, resting back against the pillow and closing his eyes. “That was far and away the most delightful time I’ve had in years.”
“I’m glad I could live up to your standards,” she said, laughing contentedly and nuzzling his neck. “You exceeded expectations in all ways.”
She waited for him to make some other clever reply, but instead she was met with the steady rise and fall of his chest and the warmth radiating from him. She waited a bit more, then lifted herself enough to peek down at him, only to find that he’d fallen asleep.
A slow grin spread across Lenore’s lips. Phineas Mercer was the most wonderful, adorable man she’d ever met. He’d shattered her world and filled her with pleasure like she’d never known, then casually fallen asleep with her in his arms, like an exhausted youth. Her heart couldn’t take that kind of perfection. She brushed away a stray lock of hair from his forehead, contemplating how beautiful he looked without his glasses, then snuggled against his side once more, closing her own eyes. He was the perfect man for her in every way. Being with him felt as though she’d come home.
But that thought brought more sadness than joy with it, and within moments, her contentment was done. With a heavy heart, she crawled out of bed, careful not to wake Phineas, and gathered up her clothes, dressing as quickly possible. She was so much more of a fool for falling into bed with him than she’d thought she would be. She’d known he’d give her a physical experience she wouldn’t soon forget. The problem was that she’d tricked herself into thinking her heart would be safe. It wasn’t. She was in serious danger of doing exactly what she couldn’t do and falling in love with him.
She tip-toed out of the room, carefully shutting Phineas’s door behind her, and fled downstairs, wondering how she was going to get herself out of yet another impossible situation of her own causing.
Chapter 6
Phin couldn’t remember the last time he’d awoken with a feeling of such contentment—a feeling that all was right in the world and that he knew his place in it. He’d been vaguely aware that Lenore had left at some point during the night when he’d awoken briefly to roll over, but he hadn’t let the fact bother him or penetrate deeply into his mostly-asleep brain. Lenore was her own woman and had every right to leave his bed to return to her own when she wanted to. There was no telling who knew she’d gone out for the evening or who would notice if she didn’t return until dawn. He may have made love to her, he may have been determined to marry her, but he wasn’t her master.
A slow grin spread across his face as the echo of his thoughts warmed him. How fortunate was he to have found a woman of financial means and sensual perfection? She was certainly everything that he loved. She was witty and bold, beautiful with or without clothes. The memory of her shapely and delightfully flexible body displayed artlessly for him the night before had him grasping his already half-erect cock so that he could enjoy his mind’s wandering more fully. She hadn’t shied away from the intensity of his desire in the least. Indeed, she’d given as good as she got, surprising him with her forcefulness and her desire.
Everything about Lenore was exactly what he’d been looking for in a bride since coming to London. She was so far from the simpering debutantes that waltzed through the season, pretending
