Tonight.
Furthermore, the woman he loved was in bed with him, stroking his cock and slick with desire.
So many curves. Some of her flesh soft and tender, and other places stretched taut. But all of it uniquely feminine. And she was eager for him to touch her—everywhere. He dipped his chin and claimed a rosy nipple with his mouth. It tightened against his tongue, giving him tiny ridges to graze his teeth over. She moaned.
This was a dream. It had to be a dream.
Soft hands sliding to the base of his length assured him it was real.
If he wasn’t inside of her soon, he’d embarrass himself—embarrass both of them. And he needed to be gentle.
So precious. This woman had become so damn precious to him. His sweet girl. A dream he’d thought he’d forgotten.
Not moving his gaze from hers, he raised her leg higher, and together they guided him to her opening. So ready.
For him.
This wasn’t about anyone but the two of them. She was with him, completely, watching him steadily.
Careful not to spend desire he’d held in check for weeks, he eased himself inside of her, only exhaling when she sighed, her lashes dropping.
She was tight. So damn tight.
Velvety warmth embraced him.
“Tell me if it’s too much.” He spoke through gritted teeth, sliding deeper. Her flesh welcomed him. Her hands clutched at his backside. It wasn’t too much. She wanted more.
Luke thrust forward, almost to the hilt, and she gasped his name, throwing her head back, parting her lips. An unfamiliar combination of lust and sentiment had him vowing he would have this forever.
Have her.
“Sweet girl,” he murmured.
She moved with him; she ground herself against him. Whatever it took, he’d make her his. The need to fight for her had him thrusting harder. And she urged him with her words and her hands and her most intimate muscles.
This was why the two of them existed. He felt her tensing. She was close. Luke reached between them and touched her where they joined. She jerked back and then forward and he clutched her tighter. So vulnerable, this woman. But also so strong.
Soft whimpers and the pulsing squeeze of her climax sent his self-restraint bolting.
White spots clouded his vision as he drove faster, harder, joining until the tingling in his spine exploded and he spilled his seed into this woman.
It was a pinnacle, a revelation, and a satiated relief all at the same time. When he returned to earth, he opened his eyes and the sight of her watching him from beneath half-closed lids convinced him he was the luckiest man alive.
He drew her closer and pressed his lips against her temple. “This is forever,” he whispered. He would accept nothing less.
When first Naomi began to wake up, her brain struggled to make sense that she was not alone. She also inherently realized that she was not cozied up to Arthur. He hadn’t liked that sort of intimacy.
She’d spent the night in Luke’s bed. They’d made love twice and when she’d gone to roll away from him, he’d tucked her into his side.
“Are we going to be lazybones today?” She kept her eyes closed as she murmured the words, her back tucked against his front, a possessive hand cupping her breast.
“Not all of me.” He prodded her from behind, making her gasp and giggle at the same time. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d giggled.
She rolled around to face him, stretching, and he met her with a kiss.
“No regrets?” she asked.
“Hell, no,” Luke growled and nipped at her shoulder. “In fact…” His hand was between her legs, and she required no persuading whatsoever to open to him.
“I could wake up like this every morning.” She regretted the words the second they flew out of her mouth. Was she tempting fate by speaking them aloud?
“Someday.” Luke spoke against her lips at the same time he eased himself inside of her. The stretching fulfilled a craving she doubted would ever go away. Both of them had finally come home. This ultimate sense of completion was new to her.
Being made love to by this man had been an epiphany of surrender. He touched her everywhere, with all of himself. He tasted her, he breathed her in, and he watched her responses, memorizing her preferences. There was no part of her he didn’t own completely.
Twice, that morning, he made love to her.
Twice.
By the time Luke finally climbed out of bed, they’d slept a while longer and the sun was halfway up the sky.
“Now who is the lazybones?” He slapped the flesh of her backside teasingly.
“Mm….” She moaned and buried her head back into the pillow.
“Come on, sweet girl. You need to eat and I need to work on the roof.”
She rolled over and stared up at him. He’d already dressed but his hair was satisfyingly disheveled.
“You never purchased your nails?”
“I’ll run into town. Do you want to come with me?”
She might run into Arthur’s mistress again. Her late husband’s mistress. In such a small village, it was practically a given. But for today, she would rather languish in the aftermath of a passionate night with Luke Cockfield.
She shook her head. “I’ll finish going through Arthur’s papers.”
Luke lowered himself onto the mattress beside her, his gaze searching her face. Unable to discern his thoughts, she wished she knew him better. “What is it?” she asked self-consciously.
He blinked and the corners of his mouth lifted into a tentative smile. “I just… I cannot fathom how lucky I am.”
Naomi pushed herself up, not caring that her breasts were bared or that her hair was in a tangle. “I am the lucky one.” She hovered her mouth at his and then leaned forward for a leisurely kiss.
She didn’t want him to go and yet she was eager to face the day.
A small amount of guilt split her anticipation. It wasn’t’ fair that she should feel happiness so soon.
Luke rose and with a wink, tossed her nightgown onto the bed. “I shouldn’t be long. Did you need anything else? Fabric? Thread?” He flicked a glance over the bed. “Lingerie.”
She blushed and threw a pillow at him. “Be off with you.”
“Make me a list,” he mumbled against her lips.
Forcing herself to be practical, Naomi drew the gown over her head and then wrote out a few necessities for him to purchase. Only after he drove off the property did she begin washing up and making herself presentable in case Ester or any of her relatives stopped in again.
Full of energy, she washed up and donned one of her dyed gowns, chopped vegetables to begin some broth, swept the kitchen, and then made the bed in Luke’s chamber. By the time she entered her own, she realized she’d been procrastinating looking through Arthur’s belongings.
This time, she carried the satchel downstairs to the table in the kitchen and dumped the contents out, spreading everything out on the long table.
The envelopes were in no particular order and her heart squeezed as she began sorting through the multitude of letters and often small scraps of papers. And as she did so, her throat tightened.
Bills, reminders, and vowels.
It wasn’t until she’d nearly finished going through them all that she came across what she was looking for.
She was just unfolding the document when Luke entered through the back door and lowered a large sack of flour onto the floor.