“But you deserve more,” he whispered. He should not let her make this choice, but his cock was already throbbing with desire. His hands were fisted at his sides for fear they would grab her. And his mind was filled with the things he could teach her, and the ways they could pleasure each other. “You have a future with Christopher. With me, you have—”
“Independence. Choice.” She took a last step forward. “And I can be with the man I love.”
She kept saying that word, and his chest squeezed tight every time. He never expected love in his life. Responsibility, duty, and honorable service to his country. These were the things he’d been raised to embody. And all those potential brides that his mother had pushed into his path had been told the same thing. They would do their duties, fulfill their responsibilities, and support their country through service to their husbands. Not one would speak of love. That was the language of silly girls too young to know better.
Except Amber boldly stated she loved him. And for that, he had only one response.
“Why?”
“What?”
“Why do you love me? I have done nothing but treat you abominably.”
She set her palm flat on his shirt. His cravat, coat, and waistcoat were already discarded, so there was little between her hand and his flesh but a thin layer of linen. He held still so she wouldn’t leave him.
“You see me,” she said. “You respect my art and my choices.”
“But this is the wrong choice,” he said, his voice raspy as he forced the words out. “You deserve marriage.”
“I deserve to choose what I want.” She lifted her face to his. “I choose you.”
He wanted to deny it. He wanted to be unselfish and return her to the future that all women were supposed to want. He wanted her to have respect, children, and joy in her future. But he could not deny himself. Not when she offered herself with clear-headed determination, with logic, and desire in her eyes. And a scent that went straight to his head.
How could he deny her? He was certainly too weak to deny himself, though he tried one last time.
“What would your father say?”
She flinched at that, then shook her head. “I am five and twenty. It is time I made decisions for myself. He is not the one who will live my life. I am. And so, I have decided on you.” And with that, she stretched up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.
Whatever restraint he had, broke at the first touch of her mouth on his. He had been dreaming of her lips not five minutes before, and now she was here, like a miracle come to life. She was in his arms, opening her body to his exploration, opening her heart to his desires, and opening her life for his use.
He didn’t deserve it, but he could not give back the miracle. He was not strong enough for that.
He swept her into his arms and carried her to his bed. He set her down like the precious gift she was. And when she tried to bring him down with her, he held back. He touched the curve of her cheek and her brown curls. He let his gaze rove over her body, shrouded in that horrible nightrail. And he tightened his hand into the sheet beside her hip.
“Be sure, Amber. Because once I have you, I will not give you up.”
She nodded. “I am sure.” Then she rose up and began tugging at her nightgown.
He helped her. How could he not? It allowed him to stroke her skin, to see the slow reveal of her legs, her honey, and her breasts. Her skin was flawless in the candlelight, and her eyes were luminous as she looked at him.
He wanted to say something. Something that would mark this moment with the wonder he felt, but he had no words. Only the slow appreciation of his gaze, his caress, and his kiss. He pressed his mouth to hers, opening her up, and smiling when she was as enthusiastic as he. Then when she tugged at his shirt, he let his lips trail across her neck and down to her breasts. He would not stop kissing her even to unbutton and remove his shirt. He did that while his lips nipped at her tender nipples.
Her hands found him after his shirt fell away. Her frantic fingers stroked over his shoulders and back while he suckled her until she writhed beneath him. And when his hands slipped between her thighs, she grabbed him.
“No,” she said in a husky whisper. “I want you in the normal way. I want—”
He kissed her. He knew what she wanted, and he would give it to her. But first, he would enjoy her, and he would be sure that she was ready. When he lifted off her mouth, he whispered against her ear. “I will give you everything,” he said. “But you must trust me in this. It is your first time, and I want it to not hurt.”
She nodded, and there was fear in her eyes. Every maiden worried about the first pain.
“Trust me.”
He took his time preparing her. He stroked between her legs, he thrust his fingers into her to spread her wide, and he even lowered his mouth to lick his fill of her. She moved with wild abandon beneath him, and she grabbed a pillow to press against her mouth. He heard her cries nonetheless as he sucked her woman’s place. And best of all, he felt the grip of her thighs around his shoulders as her body arched in pleasure.
She quickened under his tongue, and he drank in her bliss. And as much as he could, he watched her body ripple with every contraction. Such beauty. Such strength. The pillow had fallen off her face, and her lips parted in delight. Her eyes were dazed, and her hair tumbled in wild abandon. He set his chin on her belly and waited as her breathing steadied.
“That is not what I expected,” she finally whispered.
“Tell me when you are ready. There will be more.”
She smiled then, but her gaze slipped to where her nightrail lay discarded. “There is a French letter in the pocket.”
His brows rose. What did she know of condoms?
“The upstairs ladies gave it to me when I turned twenty-one.”
He frowned. “That was four years ago. I’m sorry, Amber, but I don’t think the condom will still be good.”
Her eyes widened. “But—”
He shook his head. “I have one.”
She raised her brows, and he shrugged. “Shall I say that Lord Morthan has them? I found them in the drawer.” He opened the nightstand and pulled out a French letter. “I believe this is his way of keeping his son from fathering a bastard.”
She nodded and began to straighten up off the bed to watch what he did. He shucked the rest of his clothing in swift motions, and when his cock sprang free, she reached for it. “May I?” she asked.
He didn’t know what she wanted, but he could refuse her nothing. So, when she tentatively stroked him and reached for the condom, he let her. His body was thrumming by the time she was finished touching him. And then his hands shook as he taught her how to put the preventive on him.
Soon he was kissing her again. The thrust of his tongue was forceful, as was the way he stroked her breasts. He feared he would hurt her, so he eased his touch, but she gripped his wrists and pulled herself up enough to meet him nose to nose.
“Now,” she rasped. “Please, Elliott. Now.”
He nodded while gratitude overflowed from his heart. He settled himself between her thighs and slowly pushed forward.
She gasped in surprise, but she didn’t move away. In fact, she stretched her legs wider.
“You could never hurt me,” she whispered. “I have chosen this. I have chosen you.”