Page 84 of The Viscount's Promise
Feeling powerful that she could so affect him, she stood straighter. The position thrust her breasts out. His dark eyes widened in appreciation.
“You are mine,” he growled. He pulled his shirt over his head, went to work on unfastening his breeches next. Emily’s eyes fastened greedily to the sculpted contours of his chest, the faint dusting of black hair that tapered down beyond her sight. He pushed his breeches and smalls down and stood gloriously naked before her view. His manhood thrust toward her, erect and proud. She should have been frightened. Instead wonder washed over her, heat and moisture blooming anew between her legs as she imagined it entering her, filling her.
“I am yours,” she whispered fiercely. “And you are mine.”
Satisfaction bloomed in his smile. “Yes,” he answered a moment before he took her in his arms.
The feel of his bare skin against hers, the contrast of smooth warmth and rough hair, made her almost wild with wanting. Lips latching hungrily to hers, he wrapped his arms tight about her, lifting her feet from the ground. Soon she was falling, the softness of blankets and pillows catching her. His hard body quickly followed, pushing her deeper into the bedding.
His hands and mouth were everywhere at once, pushing her to the brink. Of what, she didn’t know, though her body arched, searching for it. Desperate for it. When his mouth found her nipple, drawing it eagerly into his hot mouth, she moaned. His fingers found the core of her, pushing through the thatch of curls there to stroke over that most sensitive place. She very nearly screamed.
“You’re so wet,” he rasped. “Emily, love, I need you. Now.”
He moved over her, pushing between her thighs. She opened fully, trembling as he pressed into her. When he paused, she wanted to cry.
“Emily,” he grated between clenched teeth, “if you wish me to stop I will. But after this, there is no turning back.”
Warmth filled her, making her heart feel as if it would burst from her chest. Smiling, she took his face tenderly between her hands. “There was no turning back the moment you came back into my life, Malcolm. I loved the perfect idea of you all those years. Now I love even more fully the man you are.”
His eyes seemed to fill before he lowered his forehead to hers. “God, but I love you,” he whispered thickly. With a steady thrust, he surged forward, seating himself to the hilt within her. Filling her body and soul.
Her body pulsed around him, welcoming him, the sharp pain of his entrance quickly fading until all that was left was a low burning flame. He stayed perfectly still above her, waiting patiently as she adjusted to him, his arms trembling as he held his weight from her slight form. And she didn’t think she could have loved him more. She smiled up at him. “I love you, Malcolm,” she whispered.
Relief and wonder filled his eyes. He took her lips in a gentle kiss, even as he began to move slowly within her. Each thrust was an exquisite torture, rising her to where she had been and beyond. Never did she think such heights of pleasure existed, that two people could be so completely connected. Their breaths mingled, her gasp followed by his low moan, their hips moving in perfect synchronization.
His thrusts became quicker, the tension in her building. She lifted her legs about his slender flanks, tilting her hips. Bringing him in even deeper than before. His mouth found her neck, bit gently as a low growl escaped him. That sound shuddered through her. Carrying her to the brink.
Sending her over its edge.
Emily exploded in sensation, her body clenching and trembling as waves of pleasure washed over her. Above her Malcolm’s thrusts became frantic before, with one wild shout, he went ridged. He fell beside her, pulling her into his side. She laid her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, a heart that belonged to her, as fully as hers belonged to him. She drifted off with a smile on her face, for the first time in a long while looking forward to the coming day—the coming years.
With Malcolm at her side.
Epilogue
Mere hours after smuggling Emily back inside her brother’s town house, Malcolm hurried up the front steps. He had kissed her sweet lips, had held her close just that morning, yet it felt like a lifetime ago. He would have much preferred to run off to Gretna Green with her. As one, however, they had agreed that Willbridge, for all he was to them, deserved much more than a hasty union done under cover of night.
If truth be told, Malcolm wanted more as well. He wanted to claim her as his wife in broad daylight, shouting it from the rooftops, laying his heart out for all the world to see. As much as he could not believe his good fortune, Emily had somehow chosen to look on his scarred, battered soul, and had fallen in love with him regardless.
He was a lucky bastard indeed.
Willbridge himself opened the door to his knock, his face a hard, unforgiving mask. Yes, he was a lucky bastard.Ifhe could survive getting past Willbridge.
“Morley,” Willbridge said, his voice cold.
“Willbridge.”
“You’re here bloody early.”
“Yes.” Malcolm shifted from foot to foot, his fingers tightening about the bouquet of tulips he held.
Willbridge eyed the flowers beneath a lowered brow, then grunted. “Just as well. She’s waiting for you in the drawing room.”
Malcolm could not keep the smile from his face.
A low growl rumbled from Willbridge. “I would not be too confident if I were you.” When Malcolm said nothing, he scowled. “Come along, then.”
Malcolm followed his friend up to the drawing room. Every step, every inch closer, he felt the invisible connection between him and Emily pulsing with golden light. Soon, he thought, anticipation burning bright. Soon he would see her. It had seemed an eternity since he had left her side. After today, he would not be forced so far from her again.
