Page 22 of An Earl by Any Other Name
The organ trembled in her chest, beat madly, and then stuttered to a stop again before racing wildly. She could scarcely breathe as Leo kissed her. His lips were featherlight, but not chaste as he tasted her. His hands slid down her arms, lightly clutching her, his fingers barely digging into her skin as though he wanted to drag her closer but feared she would protest.
The hesitant eagerness in his kiss said everything she wanted to know. He hadn’t planned this, hadn’t expected her to want him after they had quarreled. She adored his confidence, but there was something wonderful in this particular moment to discover that he, too, was unsure and yet as eager to be with her as she was to be with him. Ivy curled her arms around his neck and traced his lips with her tongue. He opened his mouth to her and moaned when she pressed her body against his.
When she nipped his lips, he growled against her mouth. That seemed to change everything. The desperation, the hunger for connection seemed to overtake him as he deepened the kiss. She was starving for him, for his touch, for the emotions that were evident in his passion. This was so much more than she could have imagined.
His hands swept down her back, over her bottom, clenching it hard and lifting her into him. She was dimly aware that they were moving toward the bed. She didn’t protest when he turned her to face the sleeping cot and began unlacing her gown and peeling it off her. She almost laughed at how quickly and determinedly he stripped her of her clothes. The chilly draft hit her skin and her nipples peaked in response to his gaze and the air.
In order to distract herself from the cold, she assisted him in undressing. His shirt was warm and she lifted the garment to her face, burying her nose in it, inhaling his scent. It made her giddy and light-headed. She wanted this, wanted him. Tomorrow she would let him go, let him move on and propose to Miss Pepperwirth, but right now he belonged to her.
Leo took his shirt from her and let it drop to the floor. He was still wearing his trousers, but everything else was blissfully bare to her gaze. Hesitantly, she placed her hands on his chest. He drew her closer, smiling as she smoothed her hands over his ribs, his abdomen, marveling at the way his muscles clenched and flexed beneath her touch.
“You are beautiful,” she whispered, then gave a shaky laugh.
“Me? No, you are the beautiful one.” He stroked his fingers down the column of her throat and then traced her collarbone before trailing hands down to her breasts. He cupped one, then the other, testing their weight and kneading softly. His touch made her flush with heat and she arched toward him.
“You like that?” He tweaked one sensitive nipple, and then she responded with a frantic nod. It was too embarrassing to admit aloud.
He seemed to sense her reaction and hear her thoughts because he tipped her head up and met her gaze. “There is nothing to be ashamed of. Do you understand? We are free to explore each other and to enjoy each other. Please trust me, Ivy.”
“I do.” She meant it. Who she didn’t trust was herself. It would be so easy to whisper the words on her tongue. Three words that would change everything. She bit her lip and kept silent.
“Come here.” He ushered her to the bed and pulled the thick blankets back. “You first.”
She slid in between the sheets, her face still heated with awareness and shyness. Leo unbuttoned his trousers and tugged them down. He was erect and the sight of his innate maleness made her freeze. It looked nothing like the statues and paintings. He was so much larger.
“Ivy, look at me.” His low growl drew her stare up to his face. “There will be a little pain, at the beginning. I promise after that, only pleasure.”
He joined her in the bed. She expected him to shove her onto her back and take her. But this was Leo and not some callous stranger. Instead, he kissed her, his only focus and purpose on her mouth. He cupped her face in his hands, letting her feel every burning place their bodies touched.
“We will go as slow as you need to, sweetheart.” Bending his head, he kissed her.
Like sparks to dry tinder, she sizzled and burned to life. One of his hands stroked her back, caressed her hip, tickled her knee. Her legs fell apart instinctively, and he slid between her thighs. As though aware of how crucial kissing her was, he never broke his lips from hers. For a brief instant, fear seized her as she worried about his weight suffocating her, but he braced himself on one of his forearms. With his other hand, he touched her face, her shoulders, moving his hand farther and farther down her body, gentling her the way he would a horse. When his fingers swept over her heated folds, her body flinched and she gripped his shoulders hard. Every instinct now screamed for her to close herself off, protect herself.
“Easy, sweetheart, easy,” he cooed against her ear.
Then he licked the shell of it and a sharp tingle shot from her head clear down her spine. He lifted his hips, guided the head of his shaft to her entrance, and began a slow gentle push into her. Ivy started to tense immediately, but he didn’t let her. His kiss hardened, a deep distraction, as he thrust into her.
Ivy cried out against his mouth at the sudden burst of pain, then sank her teeth into his shoulder as she waited, clinging to him.
“Shh…love, you are breaking my heart,” Leo murmured, stroking her hip until her teeth let go of his skin and she looked at him. His eyes were bright, yet they shimmered with a myriad of emotions, making her heart skip wildly. Her body hurt, that tender place aching and stinging to the point where she was having trouble breathing.
“Is there more pain?” Her voice shook as hard as her body.
“No, not if you relax and focus on kissing me. You mustn’t tense up.”
She gave a little nod and curled her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her mouth. One brush of his lips, one sweet dance of tongues, and the tension poured out of her like a vast torrential rain. She gasped in shock and wonder at the sensation of being full. There was no part of her not filled by him, no space left empty in either her body or soul.
“How do you feel now?” he asked between drugging kisses and slow, gliding thrusts.
“Free.” It was the first word that came to her mind. A delightful mix of giddiness and a sense of being weightless. “What about you?” she whispered. In that moment she was enveloped in a secret reverence, like slipping into the back of a cathedral during Mass. Shadows and rainbows of light spinning around her. Something beautiful and awe-inspiring was building between them and she dared not ruin it.
“You feel perfect. I can’t even begin to put words to it. Only that it makes me weak, I suppose.” His dark gold eyelashes dropped to half-mast as he studied her lips. “A man ought not to admit to that.” A bashful redness tinged his cheeks.
“I make you weak?” She couldn’t resist the giggle that slipped out.
“Ivy, you have no idea what you do to me.” He slowly pulled his hips toward him and surged inside her again.
She threw her head back with a moan. After that, she wasn’t able to form words, or even thoughts. There were only sensations. The pressure of lips to skin, the sting of teeth on flesh, the aching and the burning, mixing, melding, the wild need for something primal, something too old to be named. When it hit her, her lips parted on a silent scream, and she bucked beneath Leo. He cursed softly, then between panting breaths, he worked himself even deeper, harder. Three sharp thrusts, and he cried out and followed her into the vast bliss.
