Page 25 of The Virtues of Christmas
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“Now?” he asked.
She kissed him, framing his jaw with both hands, wrapping her legs around him. Her movements were languid and—he hoped—self-indulgent.
“I want to be on top,” she said. “This time.”
Michael subsided to his back, and she straddled him. He used her braid to tug her closer. “Like this?”
With no further ado, Henrietta tied a sheath about him, then sank down over him and joined them intimately. “More like this.”
Michael struggled to locate a Shakespeare quote, a snippet, any words to remark the occasion. “Move, Henrietta. Move now.”
She smiled down at him. “He demands. At last he demands.”
“I’m begging you.”
Her smile became tender as she tucked close andmoved.
