Page 68 of The Earl

Taking off everything but his shirt, he was about to divest himself of that as well when Cait stopped him.

“Nay,” she said, pulling him toward her by that very garment. “Let me.”

Except she did not move to take off his shirt. Instead, she leaned up to kiss him, and the sweet pressure of her lips made him lose patience. He needed her. Now. He picked her up, intending to take her to the bed, but when she shivered, he carried her to the fire instead. Placing her on the large fur pelt in front of it, he sat down beside her. Cait stretched herself out.

“Mmmm.”

He was content to watch her, if only for a moment, as the firelight cast a shadow over the very part of her he intended to touch first. And so he did. Running his finger from her knee to her inner thigh, Conrad never took his eyes from her.

“You will be mine tonight,” he said, aware of the gruffness in his voice.

“I am yours already.” Cait bent her knee, so he took advantage and captured her leg.

“You are my wife, aye.”

He splayed his hand across her thigh just before reaching his goal.

“But after this eve.” Conrad inched closer. “There will be no question of the validity of our vows.”

Her lips parted as he slipped one finger inside.

So wet, so ready.

“Your shirt,” she said, her hips pushing into him.

Conrad laughed. “It seems you forgot to remove it.”

He wanted to lean down and kiss her. To mimic the movement of his fingers with his tongue, to taste her as she came into his hand. But he also wanted to see Cait. To watch his wife as her breathing became deeper, more erratic. As her cheeks flushed from an internal heat that had naught to do with the fire that raged next to them.

“I did,” she breathed.

Pressing his palm into her, moving it in circles, he could see she was close.

While he’d fully intended to watch her come apart in his hands, it had been too long.

He’d spent too many sleepless nights dreaming of her beneath him. Of sinking into her as he intended to do just now.

Tearing off his linen shirt, Conrad positioned himself over her and claimed her lips, his tongue delving into her mouth. The exquisite press of Cait’s breasts against his chest threatened to drive him mad, but he forced himself to lift up.

He wanted them in his hands.

Conrad could not get enough of her. He propped himself up with one hand, using the other to explore her body. She pulled him back down, insistent, and he reached between them to position himself.

Ah, he was there. Right there.

Somehow he managed to rip his mouth from hers. “Cait?”

She knew enough to understand. Nodding, Cait squeezed her eyes shut.

He wasn’t in the habit of bedding virgins and had little experience here, but he did know it would hurt some. But it was for him to soothe her afterward.

Little by little, he guided himself in, moaning for the sweet torture of it all.

There. The barrier that he’d refused to cross on the hellish journey south. Knowing she wanted this as much as he . . .

Conrad stopped thinking. In one swift movement, he crossed the barrier and captured her cries with his mouth. Not moving, forcing her attention to the tangling of their tongues, Conrad waited for what seemed like forever.

Until she moved.