‘Dalton, I can’t,’ she breathed. ‘Please... I need you.’
But he ignored her, working her with his mouth and suckling against her until she seized up and arched her back. The shattering pleasure rained over her, leaving her helpless except to enjoy the fierce release that erupted. She was so wet, needing his body inside hers. But he seemed unwilling to claim her, as if he didn’t want to hurt her.
Regina sat up and took his head in her hands. ‘Lie down on the bed,’ she commanded. ‘It’s my turn.’
He stood, his erection raging as he lay back. She leaned down and discovered the pleasure of touching him. He was at her mercy as she caressed him, and when she put her mouth upon him, he surged forward.
‘Regina, slow down.’
But she suckled against him, loving the power of making him feel the same way he’d made her feel. She ran her tongue along his hard length, and his entire body went rigid.
‘Stop,’ he pleaded, and she did, wondering if she had hurt him. Dalton was breathing hard, but he drew her to straddle him. He took her hips in his hands and guided himself to her entrance.
But he didn’t force himself inside. No, he closed his eyes, waiting. And she understood that he was giving himself to her. He would never force her, never make her feel powerless.
Instead, he was surrendering to her pleasure. And she revelled in the knowledge that she was in command.
It was awkward at first, but she took the head of him inside. She was still a virgin, and the fit was tight. The strain upon his face was like a man caught up in torment. And as she started to move, he hissed.
‘I love you, Regina,’ he said. ‘I always have.’
She wanted to answer the words, but her brain warned her not to. Not if she had to leave him. It would be cruel to say it and then go. Instead, she held back her love for him and brought his hands back to her breasts. ‘Will you touch me again?’
He did, and he rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She felt her body giving in, welcoming him as she used her body weight to sink lower. There was a slight pinching sensation, and then he was fully sheathed inside her.
Again, she expected him to begin thrusting. Instead, he sat up and took her breast in his mouth. She was overcome by the echo within her womb and could not help but move against him.
‘That’s it, darling. Just like that.’
She rose up and then sank against him, unaccustomed to the sensation of having him deep inside. But she discovered that as she moved, some of her earlier pleasure returned. She changed the angle of her thrust and found that it heightened her sensation when she squeezed against him.
Dalton was responding to her, meeting her thrusts with his own. But instead of feeling as if he had taken the lead, it felt as if he were trying to give her what she wanted.
She tried to go faster, and when she bumped against him, her body began to tremble. Each penetration brought her closer to the brink, but she was afraid to reach for it.
‘Dalton,’ she said, bringing his mouth to hers. She kissed him lightly and then pleaded, ‘Will you make love to me now?’
He rolled her to her back but kept her on the end of the bed. As he bent over her, he lifted her hips higher, and then began a timeless rhythm.
She gloried in the feeling of him gliding in and out, and she murmured, ‘Yes. Like this.’
He was gentle, and yet, she desired more. She wanted to feel the height of sensation again, and she tried to quicken his pace.
‘Not yet,’ he whispered, slowing down. ‘Savour it. Feel me touching you. Trust me, Regina, and let go.’
He continued the relentless give and take, with such slight pressure, that she started to quake with the stroking. Over and over, he entered and withdrew, but again, it was with such tenderness, she wanted to grasp his hips and demand more.
But her body recognised the pleasure he was giving, and she suddenly felt a part of her awakening, climbing higher. The ball of sensation tightened inside, caressed so gently, until it unravelled within her. Every fibre of her being came apart, rippling with the wave of pleasure so strong, she squeezed his shaft inside and cried out her release. He continued the pleasure as she arched hard, shaking until he emptied himself within.
She wrapped her legs around him, feeling her own emotions growing raw. He had given her everything, taking away the past until there was only love between them.
She wanted to weep at the thought of leaving. God help her, she didn’t know if she had the strength.
He was collapsed on top of her, but his hands traced a soft caress upon her hip. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ she lied. But not because of the physical release between them. It was the knowledge that he would soon be dragged into the sordid truth about Mallencourt’s death. She had wanted to avoid it—had hoped that no one would ever find out. But now that the Bow Street Runner was travelling here, he would confront her and her father about what had happened that night. And the only way to avoid it was to leave and hope that no one could find them.
‘You seem troubled,’ he said, withdrawing from her body. ‘Do you regret this?’
She shook her head and forced a smile. ‘It was wonderful, Dalton.’ To emphasise her words, she reached up to kiss him.
But as he drew her body to his, wrapping the coverlet around them, she could not help but feel as if their time was running out.
Something was very wrong with his wife. Although she now spent the nights in his bed, Dalton sensed her distraction. It was as if she were
