In this moment, he’d truly claimed her. She was irrevocably his.
And as the thought entered her mind, the ache gave way to the throbbing friction building with every grip, every slide. Yielding fully, she took him inside the clutch of her body, welcoming his invading flesh, loving him all the more.
“Yes, I’m yours. Only yours,” she said against his lips between soul-claiming kisses.
Breathing hard, he ripped his mouth away from hers on a possessive growl. Their gazes locked, bodies joined in a perfect rhythmic frenzy. She clung to him, nails biting into his shoulders, hips rising to meet his. And he filled her, over and over again.
To her amazement, that bundle of nerves started to sizzle and flare to life once again. Waves of tingling sparks gathered tightly in her core until she thought she would die in his arms.
And quickly, she cried out, splintering apart, her body riding the spasm as a shower of tingling sparks cascaded through her.
Then Raven made a choked, guttural sound. His hips hitched inside her before he wrenched free, spilling in molten rivulets against her inner thigh.
* * *
Hunched over Jane’s warm body, Raven expelled a low oath in the sweetly fragrant curve of her neck. He kissed her there, lingering and panting as his heart rammed against his chest in thick gushes.
It had never been like that before. He couldn’t even call what they’d done swiving or tupping or any of the other crass words in his vocabulary. It had no name that he’d ever used before. This was something altogether different.
All he knew was that the instant she’d given him her unconditional love, he’d felt a surge of joy so profound that he couldn’t contain it. He’d had to show her, in the only way he could, that she had utterly claimed him, heart and soul.
He’d never been lost so completely. Never been so attuned to every quiver and tremor and breath, so much so, that he hadn’t known where he ended and where she began. They were just . . . one.
Bloody hell.
Jane lifted her head to press her lips against his shoulder, her fingertips skimming his back in a silken caress. “Is that a good bloody hell, or a bad one?”
He didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud. Though, it wouldn’t surprise him if he hadn’t and Jane had simply developed a method for reading his thoughts. She was far too brilliant and beautiful and soft . . . and yes, she did taste sweet everywhere.
“Good. Definitely good,” he rasped, near to collapsing from utter bliss.
Then he felt the residual slickness against her thigh and cringed.
“But a bit of bad, as well. Jane,” he said, rising up to look into her eyes and brush the tendrils from her temple, “I nearly spilled inside you because I didn’t want to leave. No, that isn’t cause to grin up at me. That’s a dangerous desire and one I’ve never had to deal with before. Ever. As you might imagine, I wouldn’t risk putting another orphan in the world.”
She tried to school her features and purse her lips thoughtfully, but she wasn’t fooling anyone. He could see the delight in her eyes as she finger-combed the hair back from his brow.
“I’m sure I should be alarmed, and perhaps offended, if not by your words then by your serious glower,” she said, smoothing the delicate pad of her thumb over the furrows. “At the moment, however, the anxious portion of my brain is asleep and all I can feel is complete contentment. Well, and a bit of pride. After all, you are the experienced one. Therefore, it would seem that I’m something of a prodigy.”
Even though he was trying to be serious, she drew a low grunt of amusement from him and he couldn’t resist taking her lips once more.
She distracted his thoughts with the sinuous slide of her leg against his. All at once, his body felt too heavy to support, urging him to ease against her. Her lips weren’t moving in that soundless murmur, and yet she was still casting spells over him.
“But when that other part awakens,” he said, needing to get out the words that were crowding his mouth before she hypnotized him, “I don’t want you to regret or to fret that I would leave you to face any unforeseen consequences alone. I would take care of you.”
It was almost terrifying how quickly the image of having her as his wife, and of their child growing in her body took hold of him. Like a picture waiting on the next page of a book. It seemed so simple, even though it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.
Jane rolled her eyes and rose up to nip his chin with her teeth. “Such a romantic proposal. You’re speaking as though you acted alone in this. I was a full participant, if you’ll recall.”
“I most certainly recall. In fact, I will be recalling your participation for years to come.” For all the years of my life, he thought.
“Scoundrel,” she said with warm affection. “Well, I hope it will ease your mind to know that I don’t expect to marry you. This is all quite new to me. I haven’t even had time to consider how we would fit into each other’s lives.”
Neither had he. So, he should feel relieved. He was completely sated and lying naked with a soft, willing woman who wanted only to research the intricacies of lovemaking.
Then why did his chest feel tight, as if a book had closed and he never had the chance to turn the page?
Chapter 28
Within a matter of seconds, Jane had figured out how they would fit into each other’s lives.
Perfectly, she thought.
Of course, she was pragmatic enough to realize that without a bond of marriage between them or even an understanding, theirs was only a moment-by-moment affair. However, she was in love enough to hope for a lifetime with him.
Her inner scribe dutifully listed all the obstacles in their path in one column and the ideal solutions in the other. All the while, the artist on her portico was painting fireworks and hearts in vivid reds and pinks.
No matter what path he chose—whether he claimed his birthright or not—he belonged with her. At least, for now.
After gently cleaning the residual fluids from her body with the handkerchief from his discarded coat, he gathered her back into his arms. Then he draped the shawl over her and held her close, skin to skin. These glorious sensations were certainly worth exploring at length.
They caressed each other in a leisurely manner as if they had all day. But it was nearly time for the servants to wake, and soon Mr. Miggins would be making his usual rounds through the house.
As if he sensed this too, Raven held her tighter. “Do you know how impossible it will be to leave you?”
His forehead pressed to hers and his hand rested on her cheek. She turned to kiss his wrist, wanting to tell him that it would be equally as impossible to let him go. Yet, as her mouth parted to speak the words, her lips came in contact with a trio of tiny upraised scars that were usually hidden by his shirt cuffs.
He immediately tried to pull back, but she stayed him with a light touch. Or rather, he allowed her to stay him. He went completely still while enduring her close examination.
Unlike the smooth mark on his arm, these were silver-skinned and asymmetrical. They did not resemble burns or even cuts. Here, the flesh appeared torn and jagged, and it turned her stomach to imagine what might have caused them.
“Relics from my old life in the workhouse,” he said remotely.
She kissed him there again and lingered over each of the three until she felt him relax. “Is this what you didn’t want to talk about that day we met your friend, Mr. Rollins? That cupboard he mentioned?”