“Don’t stop,” she whimpered.
He didn’t. He didn’t pause a moment in his sweet, flicking, suckling attention.
Yes. Yes.
When the climax took her, she bit her wrist to keep from crying out. The little burst of pain only heightened the pleasure. Bliss racked her in wave after pulsing wave.
As she lay limp in the aftermath, he kissed his way back up her belly and returned to suckling her br**sts. His erection nudged her thigh—a reminder that that while she felt thoroughly sated, his need had not been slaked.
But as she opened her eyes, Violet noted another call for urgency. He pulled away from her taut nipple, and the faintest wash of light from the east-facing window illumined the glistening tip.
Morning.
It wasn’t here yet. But it was coming.
She clutched his shoulders, tugging at him. “Christian. Christian, it’s starting to get light. We have to—”
He swore. “No.”
No.
Not this time. They’d been interrupted again and again over the course of this wild, wonderful night. Christian didn’t care if the Prince Regent himself was at the door. This was going to happen, and it was going to happen now.
“I won’t stop,” he whispered, burying his face between her br**sts. He nuzzled close to her rapidly pounding heart. “I don’t care if I’ll hang for it. I need to be inside you. Don’t tell me to stop.”
“I wasn’t going to tell you to stop.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “Just to hurry.”
Very well. That he could do.
Christian reached for the closures of his trousers, tugging the falls open and pushing the waistband down to his knees. His eager c**k sprang forth, jutting toward her in an expression of pure, carnal need.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Oh, yes.” She reached for him, sliding her fingertips up his arms. His c**k brushed her thigh. A jolt of desire shot through him, melting to a fierce tingle at the base of his spine.
He took himself in hand and positioned his hardness at the center of her soft, wet heat.
Sweet mercy.
It went easier than the first time, but she was still just the palest shade beyond innocence. So very, very tight.
He forced himself to pause, allowing her body a few moments to adjust. It was so dark. He couldn’t scan her eyes for cues to her emotions. Was she frightened? Regretful? In pain?
“Christian,” she sighed.
Her voice held only desire. Trust. Love.
“Violet.”
Shifting his weight to the other elbow, he slid an inch deeper. He panted for breath and prayed for restraint.
“This was it, Violet. This was when I truly knew. The moment we joined, it felt so right. I felt as though I’d…” He nudged all the way in, sighing deep. “As though I’d found the other half of myself.”
Her fingers soothed his back. “I never once regretted making love to you. I felt I should regret it, but I couldn’t. That’s why I kept the secret all this time. Because I feared others would label me weak or wanton…but I wasn’t either of those things. I was just in love.”
And at that moment, Christian knew he was the most fortunate bastard in England. Scratch that. Most fortunate bastard in the world.
Stretching her neck, she pressed kisses all along his throat. “Love me,” she whispered. “Love me now.”
At first he set a slow rhythm, taking care to be as quiet as possible. But the way she undulated beneath him, sighing lustily with his every stroke, had him abandoning the slow, steady course. His hips bucked faster, until the slap of their bodies meeting resounded through the small room. The bite of her fingernails on his back urged him faster still. One of her slender legs wrapped over his, adding yet another source of sleek, feminine friction to drive him wild.
“Violet. Oh, God. Violet.”
He rose up on his knees for better leverage, lifting her hips. She arched against him greedily, rolling her head to one side. Could she possibly…?
He pressed his thumb to her pearl, working it feverishly. “Yes, darling. Again.”
Her body clenched around him as she found her pleasure a second time.
God in heaven.
Her body stroked his c**k in pulsing waves, dragging him perilously close to the edge. He hated the thought of withdrawing, but he knew he must. He’d used up all their contraceptive luck the first time, and he couldn’t risk leaving her pregnant.
But God, he loved the thought of her pregnant. He went a bit wild at the image of her swollen with his child. Nursing his babe with those soft, perfect, bouncing br**sts…
With a muttered oath, he pulled free and took himself in hand, spending over her taut belly.
Then he slumped atop her, burying his face in her neck. She folded her arms around his torso. His seed glued them together at the middle. Someday it would fuse the two of them into in one new, unique soul.
Someday soon, God and Wellington willing.
He felt a small tremor quake through her, and pushed up on his elbow, concerned. “Are you well? You’re not weeping, are you?”
“No. Not at all.”
She convulsed again—but in muffled laughter, not tears. The smile on her face could have lit the whole room. It certainly kindled a blaze in his heart.
“What’s so amusing, love?”
“Only that I shall have to rename you.” She pushed the hair back from his brow. “Oh, Christian. That was anything but a disappointment.”
Chapter Nine
Oddly enough, procuring the boat was the easiest part of all.
So much easier than leaving the bed.
Violet wished they could just fall asleep together and lay tangled there until dawn. Who cared if they were discovered? Let them be found. Christian would marry her, and they would go home together. Their families would be so pleased. There would only be the small matters of his crushing guilt and the potential charges of treason.
She sighed. She could let him go. Just this once, for God and country. But she could not have parted with him for anything less.
As he stretched and dressed, she rose from bed. She slipped back into the green silk and tied a dark, nondescript woolen cloak over it.
From one of her packed trunks, she withdrew a pair of nubby, hand-knit gloves and a small folding knife. “I’d been saving these as Christmas presents for someone. Now I know they were for you.”
He accepted the small gifts with a kiss. “I’ll treasure them always.”
Once they’d dressed, she led him down the back stairs and out to a storage lean-to attached to the back of the building. There was a lock, but Christian made short work of it. Together, they wrenched opened the door, waved away a cloud of dust, and shone the smuggler’s lantern on a small rowboat.