Page 98 of The Pursuit of Lord Kit Cavanaugh

She—her mind—couldn’t think beyond this moment; she had no experience upon which to draw. Here, tonight, she had to place herself wholly in his hands and trust him—put her trust in him—in this most intimate arena.

Luckily, she had complete and unshakeable faith in him—in his honor and in his need to protect and care for her. On that, she would stake her life.

And while he wanted her, she wanted him…

She sensed his hesitation, but to her mind, they’d waited long enough.

She pushed up on her toes and kissed him. They’d shared many kisses in recent weeks, and caresses, too, but into this kiss—their first private kiss as a married couple—she poured everything she’d held bottled up inside her.

She opened her heart, found the fire within, and set it free.

It was past time for caution, past time for restraint.

With her lips and tongue, she painted a picture of her need, her wanting—and made it as vibrant, as compelling, as she could.

His hands slid from her face, and she raised hers to clasp his head and hold him—hold them steady to the kiss as her hunger stoked his, as her passion swirled, flamed, and ignited his.

A low growl sounded in his throat, then his arms came up and locked about her.

Kit felt giddy, spun around by passion in a way he’d never felt before. Desire was a thunder in his blood, but it was her fire, her passion, that had swept him from his moorings.

All he could think about was having her beneath him. His only driving need was to claim her.

Her mouth was open to him, surrendered, a gift beyond price. He’d instinctively reacted and staked his claim, and her response only ratcheted the tension that drove him higher.

Only made him harder, the thud in his blood more insistent.

He angled his head and plunged deeper. Found her tongue with his, stroked, then plundered.

And she followed his lead, enticing, inciting, every single step of the way.

He’d needed her—to have her and hold her—for weeks, and tonight, his dreams would transform into reality, and the gnawing hunger in his soul would finally be sated.

With that aim in mind, he backed her toward the bed.

Sylvia felt her legs hit the side of the bed, but before she could rejoice that they were finally moving on, she sensed Kit hesitating. Almost dithering.

She was already too heated, with a slowly building urgency coursing through her veins, to countenance any unnecessary delay.

Closing her fists in his lapels, she stretched up on her toes and kissed him with all the passionate hunger in her soul—and tipped backward.

She landed on the silk coverlet and, to her delight, succeeded in toppling him with her.

But he broke the kiss and twisted to land on his shoulder by her side, rather than atop her as she’d hoped.

No matter. Using her grip on his lapels, she used his weight as an anchor, swung to her side, and pressed her body flush against his.

For just one second, he froze. She seized the moment, clasped his face, and pressed a fevered kiss to his lips.

Then she sent her hands wandering—a desire of hers that, until now, he’d severely curtailed.

Tonight, the bonds of marriage had set her free, and she was determined to make the most of it.

To experience and savor her first foray into conjugal bliss to the hilt.

She felt sure it would be bliss. With a husband like him, it simply wouldn’t be anything else—he would never allow it.

But she wanted—needed—to get to the blissful point sooner rather than later.