“Izzy.”
At last, she took his erection in hand. She pressed her lips to the crown. Encouraged by his moan of helpless pleasure, she did it again. And again, this time sweeping gently with her tongue.
“Show me,” she whispered. “Show me what to do.”
He couldn’t resist that invitation. He fisted his hand in her hair, guiding her to take him in her hot, wet, lovely mouth and stroke him up and down. She didn’t need a great deal of instruction. Once she had the rhythm, he released his grip and let his head fall back against the pillow, reveling in the bliss.
She took him deep in her mouth one last time, and then released him, sliding her tongue along the sensitive underside. He groaned in a wordless plea for mercy.
“Are you ready to be ravished?” she asked, in a sultry, honeyed tone.
“Yes,” he said through clenched teeth. “Very much so.”
She climbed his body, straddling his pelvis and rubbing her heat up and down his rigid length. Then she froze, poised above him. Holding the tip of his cock lodged just where it wanted so desperately to go.
Dear God. She would kill him.
“Izzy.” The unspent lust had his voice in a stranglehold. “Now. Do it now. I’m begging you.”
“You know the word I’m waiting to hear.”
Did he know?
Ah. Yes, he supposed he did. The little minx.
“Please.” He reached for her, tangling one hand in that long, wild, curling hair, and said it again. “Please.”
“That’s more like it.”
She sank down on him, slowly and smoothly, taking him all the way to the root.
Yes.
For as long as he could bear it, he allowed her to set the pace. She rode him in a slow, gentle, rolling rhythm that teased his patience to the brink.
And when he couldn’t be patient anymore, he grasped her hips in his hands and guided her to move faster. Harder. He planted his feet on the bed and pushed upward with his hips, meeting her halfway with his thrusts.
She fell forward, and the soft, bouncing heat of her breasts met his chest. He held her, wrapping her in his arms so tight, treasuring her every tiny gasp and sigh of pleasure. He held himself back as long as he could, driving into her again and again—pushing her higher and higher, until she shuddered and came apart in his arms.
And when she came, he came, too. It was oneness, and it was glorious, and it was perfect, and it was her. All her.
God, he loved her.
Gathering her close, he rolled onto his side and tucked her head to his chest. She nuzzled sweetly, curling in his embrace.
He rested his chin on her head. “I’m going to ask you a question, Izzy. I’ve never asked this of a woman before. And it’s taking me a great deal of courage to even broach the subject, so please—I beg you, consider your answer carefully.”
“What is it?”
“Izzy, my heart . . .” He tenderly stroked her hair where it fanned across the pillow. “In the morning, will you make me a pancake?”
Chapter Twenty-four
As soon as the dawn came streaming through the windows, Izzy shook her sleeping lover awake. It pained her to do it. He was so beautiful there, his bronzed limbs tangled amid crisp white sheets and downy pillows.
He looked at peace.
But today was going to be an interesting day, to say the least. He couldn’t sleep through any more of it.
“Ransom.” She nudged his shoulder.
He startled. “What? What is it?”
“Wake and dress. The solicitors are coming today. I don’t know where Duncan is, but he’s sure to turn up soon.”
“Izzy, for God’s sake. Curse the solicitors. Duncan resigned. And I thought we’d moved past this. I’m not going to hide what we have any longer.”
“I’m not hiding it.” She plopped down beside him on the bed and ruffled his hair. “I’m just hurrying you along. If you want your pancake, it has to be now.”
“Oh. Well, then.”