Page 104 of Counting on a Countess
Her release came in a fiery wave. She flung herself into it with complete abandon, her cry high and long. Yet no sooner did the wave ebb, another grew, and when it crashed upon her, she couldn’t stop herself from crying out again.
“Oh God.” Her voice was no more than a mewl. “I want you inside me, Kit.”
He reared back enough to unfasten his breeches and free his erection. Then he was stretched out atop her, bracing himself so that his weight didn’t crush her. Their gazes locked. The witty, sophisticated gentleman was gone—now he was pure desire, and he wanted her.
He ran the length of his erection through her soaking flesh, coating himself in her wetness, before fitting the tip at her entrance. As he slid into her, he bared his teeth.
“Ah, love, you’re perfect,” he said hoarsely.
“Not perfect,” she managed to gasp.
“To me, you are.” He drew his hips back, then thrust forward. He stroked in and out with each word. “Every. Part. Of. You.”
She reveled in the feel of him filling her, of her surrounding him, of them together and the pleasure they made. When she canted her hips to take him deeper, he groaned. And when he shifted his position so that with every thrust, he ground against her bud, she nearly wept with ecstasy.
Their pace increased as the frenzy took hold of them. He fucked her with single-minded purpose, making himself into a beautiful weapon of pleasure.
She came with a cry that left her throat raw. A few strokes later, Kit’s body went rigid from his orgasm. After a long while, he sank down atop her, his breath rough and jagged.
Warmth and tenderness engulfed her. She petted the back of his head and pushed damp strands of hair from his brow. He nuzzled against her neck and pressed kisses to her throat.
Tamsyn didn’t believe anything could be flawless. It simply didn’t happen, not in nature, and not in the world of man. There was always something—a tiny defect, a slight fault—that prevented perfection.
This moment with Kit was nearly faultless. He had made her feel treasured, protected, adored, and given her such pleasure.
Yet nothing could take away from the fact that, by midnight tonight, she would have to lie to him. And if he ever found out about her dishonesty, there was every chance he would cut her from his life completely.
By the time the sun set, Tamsyn’s entire body felt tight as a spring. The lovemaking had been extraordinary, and she’d wanted to luxuriate in it for as long as she could. Instead, she had taken Kit to every landmark and vista, each view and prospect. Anywhere within a decent riding distance, she had brought him, with the excuse that she wanted him to see all the places that had significance to her.
He had to go to bed early tonight, and once he did, fall into a deep sleep without any chance of waking up in the middle of the night and searching her out.
They rode to the stables, and she cast a look of both worry and envy in his direction. He moved easily in the saddle, a man at peace with the world. She, on the other hand, was a mass of apprehension.
After they had dismounted and taken care of the horses, they made their way back toward the house. He laced their fingers together. Despite both the fact that they’d already made love today and her continuous disquiet about tonight, the press of his skin to hers brought forth a rosy bloom of need and an ache in her heart.
“I’m humbled that you showed me the places that hold meaning for you,” he said warmly. “Seeing the beauty of this place and its power... I know you better now. Thank you.”
Pleasure and dismay mingled within her. For all that she’d been trying to wear him out, she had also wanted to share her piece of Cornwall with him. He saw what it meant to her, and he valued that.
He stopped walking and kissed her quickly but tenderly. But the feel of his lips was too brief, because he pulled back enough to murmur, “Ah, there’s something I meant to give you.”
“Give me?” she said blankly. The astrolabe had been an extraordinary gift, and she’d tucked it away in the corner of her clothespress, hidden behind gowns and petticoats, in case a servant decided to claim it for themselves.
With a smile that verged on bashful, he released her hand and pulled something from his pocket. He held it up. “You left this behind in London. I hoped to see you wear it again.”
The necklace he’d purchased for her. Its pearl and diamond pendant oscillated back and forth, almost hypnotic.
The urge to tell him everything hovered on her lips, to finally be done with all the lies and subterfuge and state baldly the truth of her situation.
She pressed her hand to her chest where her heart throbbed. “Oh, Kit.”
“Shall I put it on you?” he asked as though hoping for a precious favor.
“If Gwen sees me wearing that,” she said ruefully, “she’ll turn chartreuse with envy.”
“Let her turn any damn color she wants,” Kit answered. “She doesn’t matter.” He motioned for Tamsyn to turn around.
There was nothing to do but hold herself still as he fastened the necklace’s clasp. She glanced down at the pendant, her fingers unable to stop from caressing the creamy surface of the pearl, and her chest seized with agony and joy.
