“I’ve never felt what I feel with you,” he murmured as he took her nipple between his teeth and sucked hard, drawing a pleasured cry from her. “I never imagined.”
Body shaking, she followed the hair trailing his chest, drawing circles over his flat belly, his hip, his thigh. He lifted slightly to encourage more. She took him in hand, smoothed her thumb over the silky tip and stroked his length, slowly, then with greater speed, just as he’d shown her. His mouth fell away from her breast as he rolled to his back with a hushed groan, the most arousing sound she’d ever heard come from him.
“There, love, ah, yes.” His head tilted, neck arching, lids fluttering. His fingers burrowed into the sheet, curling into a fist as he tried to control himself. She stared, enthralled, about to arrive herself just from watching him. She didn’t know how to do what raced through her mind, so she simply obeyed the compulsion. They’d whispered about it in the still twilight that first night as he patiently answered her questions about lovemaking but…
Slowing her touch, she dragged her lips down his neck, traced his collarbone, licked his hardened nipple, shadowing that crisp path of hair she so loved down his body. He gasped, his belly tightening when she pressed a hard kiss to his navel. He was trembling, his skin flushed, his hands rising to settle in her hair. His low murmur of agreement gave her courage.
It stunned, she thought as she sank her teeth into his hip, that she could draw such a fevered response from him.
When he could have anyone, he wanted her.
“I won’t be able…to last…” He caught her wrist as she took him in her mouth, trying to stop her. But the effort was half-hearted. “Christ, I can’t,” he moaned, hips rising off the bed.
He tasted wonderful. Like soap and the slightest tang of salt. Rigid but his skin so smooth, a remarkable contrast. He was lost, his words unintelligible, his breaths stuttered. And she was lost in him. Her peak close, she kissed her way down his length. His hand came around hers, guiding her strokes. Fast, fierce, tight. His other found its way between her legs, and with a delicious twist, he slipped a finger inside her. His thumb settled over that lovely hidden spot, the dual assault all it took to push her over the edge.
“Finn, oh, Finn,” she murmured, dropping her head to his thigh as the explosions rocked her body. Wave after wave, pulsing, pounding. Blinding. Until she was boneless, her muscles lax and uncooperative, her carnal task forgotten.
With what sounded like laughter, he took control, pulling her atop him. She gazed down at him, skin tingling, dots spotting her vision. “Where am I?” she asked and braced her hands on his chest with a hitching exhalation.
He smiled wickedly, cupped the nape of her neck, and brought her lips to his. She felt him move into position and with one gentle push, thrust inside. Settling his hands on her hips, he helped her establish the rhythm. It felt much different than having his weight atop her. Amazingly different. In control different. With an empowered sigh, she released him from the kiss, rose high, and moved with him. Rode him with long strokes, a languid rhythm, until he was close to leaving her, then back. Again and again.
She felt wanton, animalistic, bared to her soul. Mindless, dazed, frenetic. There’d been no way to anticipate how this sensual, intimate act would bond them.
“Now,” he urged and slipped his hand between them, touched her once, lightly, and she knew nothing but astounding pleasure. Closing her eyes, she let him lead her as body and mind parted. Colors burst behind her eyelids, her sensitive skin stung. With a wanton moan, she collapsed, and he rolled her over without missing a beat, his thrusts frantic, his lips, his hands, his teeth, all over her.
He whispered a harsh string of French as he shuddered, his arms closing around her. Falling to his side, he brought her with him, kissing her cheek, her shoulder, her collarbone. After a delayed moment filled with only their terse breaths permeating the room, he reached to tuck the destroyed sheet around her, smooth the hair from her face. Such a thoughtful, compassionate man. Even when she opened her mouth to speak, and he rejected her with an outstretched hand. A tender, tolerant, exhausted gesture. “Sleep,” he mumbled, his voice muffled by the pillow. “Food.” He yawned and hauled her closer. “Once you’ve decided.”
She tugged at his chest hair. “Oh, I’ve already decided.”
He blinked, the one eye not swallowed by the pillow sliding open. “You have?”
“Finley Michel Laurent Alexander, I think it would be best if I make an honest man of you.” She gestured to the disturbed bedchamber. “Seeing as you can’t keep your hands off me. And seeing as I love you more than anyone I’ve ever known.”
Finn’s smile was beatific. “One less thing to worry about in the grand scheme. Except for your expulsion from society, which I’m warning you, will be severe.”
She closed her eyes and took him in, his scent heaven, his touch everything. He wouldn’t believe how little she cared about being expelled from a group she’d never admired in the first place. “I’ll like living on the outside edge. It’s the finest place to be. Not too close to the sun.”
“The glorious middle,” he murmured, sounding sleepy again. “We shall muddle along. We have support. A viscount who touches objects and sees the past, and a duke who starts indiscriminate fires with his blazing fingertips.”
“Ashcroft,” she breathed, “I forgot all about him.”
A choked laugh escaped Finn at her admission. “Good. Though he’s offered to throw us a magnificent celebration complete with pyrotechnics because he’s known to fancy them, playing the rejected suitor to the hilt, of course. The women will swarm him. And Julian”—Finn snorted softly—“believes wholeheartedly in love. A romantic if there ever was one. He’ll be blinded by excitement over our marriage. You’ll be joining the League in an even greater capacity than he’d hoped. Blocker extraordinaire and sister-in-law.”
He rose to his elbow, leaning over her, his smile dimming. “There is one thing I must ask for. Or two rather. You see, I have a modest estate just down the road from Harbingdon that Piper gifted me on my twenty-first birthday. Brook Cottage. A gift to her when Julian stupidly thought they’d never marry. It’s quite lovely. And easily protected. There’s a small conservatory, a stable. Enough chambers for Belle and Simon, who’s as much a son to me as my own could ever be—”
“Yes,” she whispered and brushed the hair she’d trimmed when they were falling in love from his face. Cupping his jaw, she felt his pulse jolt beneath her thumb. “They should live with us. Since my brother’s passing, I haven’t had a family, Finn. Charles was all I ever had. I want one with you. With Humphrey, Piper, Julian. Belle and Simon and Lucien. I want the League. I want to find my place.”
Sinking to the bed with a sigh, he tucked her into the curve of his body. “Simon needs me, and I need him. I need Belle. I don’t know why, exactly, but I do. As much as I need you. And if not for you, I’d have never found her. The dreams make sense now.” He swallowed, the click of his throat echoing in the room. “With patience, some things in life do come full circle.”
“You love me,” she marveled, recalling he’d said it more than once while he moved inside her.