Page 91 of The Heir
“That’s it,” he whispered a few moments later. “Move like that, and… Anna.God.”
She was a quick study, able to move with him and send her hand wandering up his side to find his nipple, as well. Her thumb feathered across his puckered flesh in the same deliberate rhythm as he made with his cock, then she applied more pressure, actually rubbing him in a small, gratifyingly erotic circle.
“Anna…” He slipped his own hand more firmly around her buttocks. “Slow down… You’ve got to let… Ah, Christ. Don’t stop, love.”
“You either.” She traced her tongue over his other nipple. “For the love of God, don’t you dare stop.”
She tried to quicken their rhythm, but he held firm to the more deliberate pace.
“Westhaven, please…” she wailed softly. “Gayle…”
His name, spoken in that hot, pleading tone, had the effect she’d hoped. He let the tempo increase until she was shaking and keening beneath him in the throes of her pleasure. Still he didn’t stop but bent his head, took her nipple into his mouth, and drew strongly on her. She flailed her hips desperately against him, whispering his name over and over against his chest, her legs locked around his flanks.
He lifted his head, anchored a hand under her buttocks, and Anna felt a wet heat spreading deep in her body as his thrusts slowed and deepened. Westhaven groaned softly in her ear then went quiet above her.
“You,” Westhaven rasped long moments later. “Sweet, ever-loving, merciful, abiding Christ.”
He made it to his feet, carefully extricating his softening cock from Anna’s body. She winced at the sensation of him leaving but made no verbal protest, merely watching him with luminous eyes in the soft predawn shadows. He used the wash water then brought the damp cloth to the bed.
“Spread your legs for me.” She complied, unable to deny him in that moment any intimacy he wanted. Dear God, the things he had made her feel… The cloth was cool and soothing, and yet knowing he wielded it made it arousing, too.
“Take your time,” she murmured. “No need to rush.”
“Naughty.” He smiled approvingly. “But you’ll likely be sore, so no more marzipan for you this morning.”
“And you won’t be sore?”
“As to that”—he tossed the wet cloth over the rim of the basin—“I very well might be. You have much to answer for.”
“Much.”
“Anna?” The earl climbed over her, bracing himself on his forearms, and regarded her very seriously. “Weren’t you going to tell me?”
“Do you need to hear the words?” She met his eyes, feeling sadness crowd out contentment.
“The words?” Guardedness crept up on the tenderness in his eyes.
“Oh, very well,” Anna sighed, brushing fingers through the lock of hair on his forehead. “Of course I love you.” She leaned up and wrapped her arms and legs around him. “I love you desperately. I would not still be here if I didn’t. I would not be leaving you if I didn’t. I love you, Gayle Windham. And I probably always will. There… now are we both thoroughly mortified?”
“I am not mortified,” he whispered, burying his face against her neck. “I am… awed. Beyond words. You honor me, Anna Seaton. You honor me unbelievably.”
He should say more, he knew, but his heart was pounding again, and she could probably feel that, so tightly was he clutching her to him. He should say that he loved her, for he certainly did, but he could not speak, could not contain with words the emotions rioting through him.
“Westhaven?” Anna stroked his back, her tone wary. “Are you well?”
“No,” he said, feeling—merciful God—tears thicken in his throat as he held her even tighter. “I am not exactly well. I am…fucked silly.”
And he meant it in every possible way.
“I tell you that was her,” Stull hissed. “I know my girls, Helmsley, and that’s my little Morgan.”
“It has been more than two years since you’ve seen your little Morgan,” Helmsley said with as much patience as he could muster. “Women change in those years, change radically. Besides, it can’t be her. That girl was laughing and shouting and talking with her swain so the whole park could hear her. Morgan can’t do any of those things.”
“It’sher,” Stull insisted.“I bet you if we follow her and that callow buffoon on her arm, we will find my Anna, as well.”
“You are more than welcome to go haring off in this heat after a girl who obviously is not my sister, though I will grant you a certain resemblance. Morgan’s hair was not so light, though, and I do not think Morgan was as tall as that girl.”
“You said it yourself,” Stull shot back, “women between the ages of fifteen and eighteen will change, delightfully so to my way of thinking.”
