Page 64 of The Designs of Lord Randolph Cavanaugh

Her maidenhead ruptured, and her sheath closed around him in glorious welcome; her small cry was smothered between their lips, and she arched wildly beneath him.

And it was his turn to catch his breath, to break the kiss and clench his jaw and, with his head hanging close beside hers, battle his instincts as he fought to give her a moment to accustom herself…

Although tension still held her, he sensed that she paused, then he heard a soft “Oh,” the syllable, barely breathed, laden with wonder.

If he could have smiled, he would have. Instead, he eased the reins he’d so desperately clung to, and slowly, with care, moved upon her, inside her.

Immediately, instinctively, she rose to his beat, to the challenge and the promise, reaching for it, stretching and grasping, and then racing with him as he drove them on.

What followed was a lesson in what could be. She might have been a novice, but he learned, too.

Learned of the difference a true connection of the heart made to what had previously been a merely physical pleasure.

This was hunger.

This was desire.

Everything before paled in comparison.

Her perfume—an elusive blend of honeysuckle and rose—wreathed about him, and he breathed deeply, drawing the scent into his body, into his mind, an indefinable part of her, now, an ineradicable part of him.

They were both desperate, their skins slick with passion, their breaths ragged as together they pushed on. And on…

Abruptly, passion’s peak reared before them.

Undaunted, they flung themselves up—straight to the pinnacle. Together, they raced—and leapt.

Her senses fractured a second before his. The invisible rack tightened one more time, and she, her body, the strong muscles of her sheath, clutched him violently for one last instant, then she broke, and release took her.

He had only a heartbeat to look down at her and glory before his own release roared through him. He dropped his head to the curve of her throat and groaned long and deep as ecstasy wracked him and he emptied himself into her welcoming heat.

A minute later, his arms quivered and gave way, and, exhausted and spent, he collapsed upon her.

Felicia wrapped her arms as far around him as she could reach. She didn’t know why, but she welcomed his weight, the blanket of his body warm and solid over hers.

She lay beneath him; every last muscle in her body felt wrung out and limp. As for her mind, she hadn’t known her faculties could be so overwhelmed—so suborned by sensations, feelings, and emotions that nothing else could intrude. Her body—every nerve, every muscle, every square inch of her skin—felt steeped in glory. In pleasure that, until now, had been unimaginable.

As for that moment in which their passions had peaked and the dam had broken…she was quite sure she’d seen stars. Even now, with her body weightless, apparently floating on a sea of satiation, pleasure still thrummed beneath her skin.

Beyond that moment on the terrace, she hadn’t paused at any point along their path, the one they had followed that had led them from then to now. At no point had that path felt anything but right—the right and proper path for her.

Also, she’d sensed, for him.

Their commitment had been mutual; their need had been, too.

Certainty was there, among all the other emotions swirling through her. As her body relaxed even more, sinking deeper into the mattress under his weight, she felt him stir.

He raised up and, through the waning moonlight, searched her face. His expression was lax; she was sure hers was, too.

He shifted, raised a hand, and brushed her tangled hair back from her forehead. “Are you all right?”

His concern reached her clearly. Softly, she smiled, lifted her hand, gripped his fingers, and weakly squeezed. Her eyes holding his, she murmured, “‘All right’ doesn’t do justice to how I feel—I’m not sure words can.”

Relief showed in his face. “Good.” Then he disengaged and lifted from her.

He reached for the rumpled covers, shook them free, then drew them over their cooling bodies. He settled beside her and slid an arm around her; yielding to his gentle urging and her own impulse, she turned to him, settled her head on his chest, in the hollow beneath his shoulder, and felt his arm close protectively about her.

Holding her to him even as they slept.