Page 30 of On a Midsummer Night
“Are you sure?” he whispered against her temple.
“Yes.”
So firm. So certain. His daring Beth.
Henry nibbled at the shell of her ear. “Are you scared?”
“No.” Her arms looped around his neck, fusing her body to his. “Because it’s you.”
The urge to cry—something he hadn’t done since he was a boy, even after his father’s death—burned the back of his throat. After everything, that she could still cling to him and welcome his touch—his love—so openly was a blessing he knew he didn’t deserve.
But Henry was a selfish bastard, and he would never again deny himself her love.
This kiss was different than the ones that came before. Those had been tinged with awe. Excitement. Perhaps a note of thankfulness. Yet this kiss spoke of fervor. Passion.
Promise.
Before Henry knew which way was up, he ripped his shirt over his head and tossed it aside in impatience. Lust fired in his blood, the possibility of finally having Beth, of claiming her as she had claimed him all those years before, caused him to tremble. And yet one look at Beth’s parted lips eased the tension in his muscles, and he clasped her hand, placing her palm flat against the spot directly over his heart.
“It has beat for you since the moment we met.” His breath was ragged. “And despite how I’ve tried to deaden it to the world, seeing you again brought it back to life.”
“Henry.” His name on her lips was a plea, and it said so much.
Without a word, Henry combed one hand through her lovely sable locks, biting back a groan at how they slid through his fingers like silk. Curling his other arm around her waist, he pulled Beth flush with his chest. He bestowed a kiss to her shoulder. Then her neck. The crook of her jaw. The stubborn set of her chin. Christ, he wanted to kiss her everywhere.
“May I take you to bed, darling?” he whispered, smirking when he spied the gooseflesh race across her skin.
Beth’s velvet eyes were wide and searching. She reached up and whispered against his lips, “I’ve been waiting for you to ask for so long.”
The whole room could have gone up in flames, and Henry would have been oblivious to the danger, for his world had condensed to their kiss. The touch and taste of her were all he cared about, and he urged her to lie back, determined to take his mouth on a tour of her body.
Slipping his fingers under the straps of her chemise, he peeled it down her arms, heat surging as her delectable breasts were bared to him. Tan nipples topped lush handfuls of creamy flesh, and with his thoughts firing off like fireworks, Henry leaned down and wrapped his lips around one tempting mouthful.
Beth sighed as her back arched into his touch, and he glanced up the long line of her neck to watch as her eyes fluttered shut, her mouth anOof surprised pleasure.
After one firm suck, he released the nub, only to flick it with his tongue, grinning like a cat when she whimpered.
“I could worship these,” he growled, cupping both breasts with his hands, sliding a thumb across each sensitive nipple, “all night.”
“Faith,” she breathed, her body quivering under his hands, “I didn’t realize . . . I didn’t know they could be so sensitive.”
“I did.” Henry turned his attention to her other breast, swiping the broad side of his tongue along its nipple. “Shall we see where else I can make you shiver?”
Cracking an eye open, Beth bit her lip as he inched down her body. Continuing to strip her of her chemise, he kissed each rib before trailing his lips to her belly button, eliciting her giggles. Nipping at the curve of her hip, Henry took advantage of her momentary distraction to tug her chemise down the long line of her legs, leaving her bared to him. My god, he thought, struggling not to swallow his tongue, but she was a vision. Shapely hips curved to supple thighs. Scraping his fingernails up the back of her legs to her thighs, Henry held her gaze as he spread them wide. Without a word, he dropped his head to swipe his tongue down her slit.
The small shriek Beth let out echoed around the room, but rather than squirm or push him away, she folded her legs around his back and angled her hips, so his tongue flicked more forcefully against the spot that begged for his attention. Henry smiled against her flesh, doubling his efforts, carefully inserting one finger, then two, inside her. The thought of bringing Beth to completion against his mouth had made him impossibly hard.
“Henry,” she whined, her fingernails scouring his scalp. “Please. I–I don’t know what to do.”
“Let go, love,” he said before his lips closed around the pearl at the top of her sex.
Beth released a long, low moan as Henry worked her through la petite mort, his tongue gently caressing her flushed flesh. With her eyes closed, her dark hair fanned wildly about the sheets, and her limbs splayed and boneless, Beth looked completely sated. Achingly beautiful.
Henry gritted his teeth. His need for her was borderline painful.
Grasping her knees, he adjusted her thighs for him to fit his hips in the cradle of her body. While his every cell screamed for him to enter her swiftly and find his pleasure, Henry was determined to go slowly, even if it took every last bit of restraint he possessed.
“Darling,” he whispered, cupping her jaw, his thumb smoothing over her bottom lip that was already plump and red from his kisses.
