He kissed her, with more tenderness and desire than she ever imagined possible. No more animosity between them, no more clothes, no more words…only bare body to bare body, both exposed and vulnerable. Certain that this night with him was good and right, more certain than she’d ever been of anything in her life, she wrapped her arms around him and welcomed him into the cradle of her thighs.
He reached between them to gently caress her as he shifted his body over hers. Her already sensitized flesh ached from even this light touch, yet she yearned for more. She knew how men and women took their pleasure in each other, and if having his mouth on her had been that exquisite, then his body inside hers would surely be bliss.
His hand slipped away from her. Instantly bereft, she let a whimper of protest rise to her lips—
Then a hardness nestled down against her sex, and she tensed as he lowered his hips and slipped inside her warmth, inch by slow inch. She held her breath at the unfamiliar sensation of being filled and stretched as her body expanded around his.
She squirmed beneath him. Not uncomfortable exactly, but neither was it the same wonderful pleasure he’d given her with his hand and mouth. She blinked back the hot tears of disappointment threatening at her lashes, not wanting him to see how upset she was.
Holding himself over her on his forearms, he lifted his hips to retreat, then lowered himself again, this time sinking deeper and causing her to spread her legs wider around his hips to be more comfortable. All of him shook, and the way his body clenched so stiffly over hers only added to her discomfort. She bit back the urge to tell him to relax, just as he’d done to her.
A low groan escaped him. “Sweet Jesus…you’re so hot and tight.”
“I’m sorry,” she choked out, no longer able to hold back tears that he should find her so disappointing.
Despite his grim smile, he gave a tense laugh and placed a quick kiss to her lips to reassure her. “That’s a good thing, minx.”
She didn’t believe him. “Is it?”
“A very good thing.” He squeezed his eyes shut and repeated the slow retreat and plunge. This time he slid deeper, her body forced to stretch even wider to accommodate him.
She wiggled her hips beneath him to ease the pressure—
“Mariah,” he rasped out. Then he lost his fight for restraint and shoved his hips forward, plunging inside her to the hilt.
The thin barrier inside her tore, and she gasped at the sharp pinch. He froze, as if her pain had pierced into him. When she was finally able to catch her breath again and the pounding heartbeat in her ears subsided with the pain, she heard him whispering over and over how special she was, how beautiful…
This time, her tears had nothing to do with disappointment.
Slowly, he stroked his hips again in the same rising and falling motion as before, but now there was none of the uncomfortable pressure, none of that feeling of being stretched to the breaking point. Now, there was only smooth, strong glides of his body inside hers. Oh, how wonderful it was! His manhood filled her completely, and each caressing plunge and retreat created a tingling friction inside her that was so much better than what he’d done to her before. That had been wonderful, but this—this was heavenly!
“Robert.” His name emerged as single word of satisfaction and encouragement.
She locked her ankles against the small of his back and arched herself off the mattress to meet each downward stroke of his hips, each one coming faster and deeper than the one before. She clung to him, reveling in the hardness of his muscular body, in the familiar scent of him that filled up her senses, and in the weight of his body pressing deliciously down onto her. Never, never had she imagined being with a man would be so freeing, somehow both tender and primal at the same time.
The gentleness between them grew into something more fervent, something she couldn’t name but that swelled inside her until she wanted to burst from the intensity of it.
“So good,” he murmured into her hair. “So unbelievably good…only with you, Mariah.”
A tear of joy rolled down her cheek. She buried her face against his shoulder as a rush of happiness swept through her, and her heart sang.
Then his rhythm changed. Now with every deep thrust, he ground his pelvis against her to rub at that aching nub where he’d so wickedly sucked before. Each thrust sent a tingle of heat shooting through her, like a spark struck from a flint. She tensed in his arms, her body bearing down shamelessly around him—
Wildfire flashed through her, and she cried out as she broke.
All her muscles clenched and released in a pulsating wave that crashed over her and filled up her soul. She could do nothing more than cling to him, helpless and breathless, as spots flashed before her eyes. All of her shook in a delicious contradiction of mindless satiation and soaring joy.
He thrust hard inside her now, driving toward his own release. Once, twice—he strained against her on the final plunge, holding himself deep, and his thighs and buttocks clenched as a low growl tore from him. She felt his essence spilling inside her, filling her as deliciously as if he’d poured his soul into her. Then he collapsed on top of her, panting hard to catch his breath as their heartbeats pounded into each other.
Sliding her arms up to encircle his neck, she wanted to keep him close in her embrace for as long as possible. She had no idea what would happen between them when dawn came. But tonight he belonged to her, and she refused to let him go a moment sooner than she had to.
Tonight, for the first time in her life, she’d dared to imagine a different future for herself than the one she’d always wanted. A future not running Winslow Shipping but one with Robert, one in which they laughed together during the day and shared their passions at night.
Her heart ached, overwhelmed both by the joy he’d just given her and by the uncertainty of tomorrow. Because somehow, amid all the arguments and fighting, during all the dinners and balls and teas, she’d fallen in love with Robert Carlisle.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Robert nuzzled Mariah’s hair as she lay nestled against him and tightened his arms around her. Making love to her had been nothing short of breathtaking, but holding her like this afterward, when he’d never before wanted to remain with a woman after the act itself was over…
Heaven.
But what came next? Everything had irrevocably changed between them. Oh, they would still fight, he had no doubt about that. But now he hoped they could turn that anger into passion, because while he had no idea what would happen between them going forward, he knew he couldn’t give her up.
Give her up? Hell, he couldn’t bring himself to leave the bed! Even now he preferred to shiver in the cold darkness rather than part from her to start a fire. And that troubled him, because if he felt this strongly connected to her, what did she feel toward him?
A true gentleman would marry her for taking her innocence. March straight to her father, offer for her hand, then get a special license and wed her as soon as possible, especially since he’d not taken precautions. But he couldn’t offer without looking like an opportunistic fortune hunter in Winslow’s eyes. And that bothered him more than he wanted to admit. So did the knowledge that in doing so he would most likely lose both Mariah and the partnership.
She stirred and wiggled toward the edge of the bed.
“Don’t go.” He pulled her back into his arms, but his heart pounded with worry that he was already losing her. “I want you right here with me.”
She rolled onto her back and stared up at him, a moment’s hesitation on her beautiful face.
He held his breath, waiting for her to speak. To say anything. She’d been silent since the moment she’d cried out in pleasure, and he wasn’t used to such silence from the women he bedded. Or from Mariah.
What was going through her mind? She’d been an innocent, not some jaded society lady looking to ease an evening’s boredom. Despite his reputation as a rake, he’d never taken a woman’s innocence before, and he didn’t know what to expect from her now. Tears, anger…regret?