She knew just how glorious his body was, but she’d only looked—never touched.
And how she wanted to.
Even if she never lay with another man again, she’d have this memory.
She wanted to let him strip her bare and thrust inside her, so that she wasn’t herself any more but part of him.
Wiping his hands on his trousers, Burnell stood. “Are you alright, Nellie? You’re pale. Here, let me take the dog.”
Cornelia realized she was still clutching Minnie, asleep in her arms. Lifting the terrier, he deposited her gently on the chaise.
Burnell brought the back of his hand to her cheek, then took her hands, frowning. He blew against them and rubbed her fingers between his own. “You’re like ice.”
“Warm me.” Even as she said it, she let the shawl fall from her shoulders. The invitation could hardly have been more explicit.
His arms came about her instantly, pulling her into his heat. She saw the flame in his eyes, just for a moment, before his mouth found hers.
Raw and sensual, the kiss was everything she needed. His hands slid down her back, finding her bottom, pulling her against him. He kissed her harder and she was aware of his arousal, of the hardness against her belly.
Breathless, she tugged at the front of his shirt. “Take this off.”
Shrugging away his jacket, he pulled the shirt’s hem from the waistband of his trousers. Once lifted over his head, he shook it down his arms, then stood, very still before her.
Her gaze slid over the broad chest and taut torso, to the trail of hair leading downward, and he looked back at her all the while.
Somewhere deep in her belly a warm ache was growing.
He must know what I’m thinking; what I want.
She laid her palm over his heart. Did it always beat this desperately, or was this just for her?
Brushing her fingers over his chest, she reached his nipple and teased lightly with her nail, then pinched the flat nub.
“Jesus, Nellie.” He sucked in his breath. “Don’t do this unless you mean it. Once we begin, I won’t be able to stop.” His eyes were darker than she’d ever seen them.
As she stepped back, she was trembling, but she wanted him to see. She let the shawl drop then untied her robe, letting the pale silk pool at her feet.
Burnell had been looking fixedly into her face but, as she slipped her nightgown from her shoulders, baring one breast, then the other, his gaze fell lower.
Brazenly, she touched the swell of her bosom and rubbed her thumb over the peaks. Cornelia felt a thrill of power. She wasn’t just surrendering; she was showing him what she wanted. This was her choice. Still, she held her breath as she eased the gown over her hips.
Even Mortmain had never seen her like this; utterly naked, every part of her exposed. She swallowed hard, fighting the urge to cover herself.
“Make love to me, Ethan.”
In a single stride, he lifted her into his arms again. This time, there could be no doubt, and he was too aroused to go slowly.
Reaching the bed, he laid her upon it.
Her eyelids fluttered but she made no protest as he pressed his body across the length of hers.
That she had laid herself bare, vulnerable to him in every way, inflamed him beyond all reason. There was something gloriously illicit about having her naked beneath him, her feminine curves yielding to his hands, while he remained half-clothed.
He wanted to fuck her, of course. Good, hard sex, buried to the hilt and thrusting deep. He’d been thinking about that since the first evening they’d met. And he wanted to watch as she unravelled for him; to make her cry out and writhe, and to know he was responsible.
He wanted to see that as much as he wanted his own climax, and he knew how to take her there, yet part of him also feared hurting her. She wasn’t a virgin, but how long had it been since she’d lain with a man?
He pressed kisses to her brows and lids, and to her nose; brushed his mouth to hers. “You trust me, Cornelia?”
She nodded, her eyes wide.
He trailed kisses downward, his hand firmly on her hip, pulling her pelvis to rub against his arousal. He wanted her to feel that hardness, and know it was for her.
She sighed and whimpered as he brought his mouth to her breasts, suckling and teasing, and she parted her legs to him, wrapping one knee to the back of his thigh, so that his hard ridge was drawn to the seam of her sex.
Ethan groaned.
He had only to unbutton his trousers and sink into her. He might find his release with a few urgent thrusts, but he wanted to give her more than that.
He took his kisses over her belly to her mound and, clasping her bottom, pulled her onto his mouth, penetrating her with his tongue.
“You mustn’t—” She gasped, pushing him away, but then her hands were tangling in his hair, holding him tight while he fell upon her greedily. Twisting and clinging, she rubbed against his stroking tongue, and her breaths came ragged.
With his fingers, he parted her, wanting to see the cream spilling over the velvet petals and the engorged pearl of her desire; dark red and swollen ripe.
He took the bud into his mouth, suckling as he had her nipple. When she cried aloud, he entered her with two fingers and felt the shuddering pulses course through her body, her inner muscles gripping hard.
Her eyes were wild and reckless, from that other place and he needed to be with her there, to feel those same spasms not around his fingers but his cock.
Divesting himself of his trousers, he kicked them away and knelt above her. Taking his girth in his hand, he gave three long strokes, letting his readiness prick wet at the tip, then raised her palm to circle him.
He wanted her to feel how hard he was; for her to feel what would be hers.
When he lowered to enter her, even in her readied state, she flinched, but he pushed through her tightness. Her parted lips and hands upon his back told him she didn’t wish to stop.
He moved slowly at first, but she felt so good, hot flesh surrounding him; and her fur, soft against his abdomen. He entered her mouth with his tongue while his thrusts became more urgent.
She gasped, making a sound he couldn’t interpret, of pain and need—but her nails were raking his back, and she was arching to meet him.
Her hands dropped to his buttocks and he wasn’t being gentle anymore. The harder his thrusts, the more fiercely she clung, her cries growing louder. He stifled them with more kisses and then she was shuddering again, and he could no longer hold back.
Rough and possessive, he lifted her hips and gave his final strokes.
His desire had driven him to this place of thundering blood, and it was all for her. Everything he had, was hers.
Except for one thing.
For the vow he’d made on the night he walked away from his father remained: there would never be a child, and the Burnell name would die with him.
He would give Cornelia everything, but never that.
With an anguished cry, he withdrew, spilling on her belly.
Chapter 17
Early Morning, Christmas Eve
Cornelia slipped out from the sheets. The chamber was dim but, wrapping herself in the blanket from the bottom of the bed, she walked to the window and pushed back the curtain, just a little.
Somewhere off to the east, the sun was streaking pink. It was very still, the lawns faintly luminous, reflecting back the last light of the dipping moon. No more snow had fallen and the sky was clear. With any luck, a warmer day was coming.