Page 92 of The Lyon Whisperer
Her release crashed through her in wave after dizzying wave. Her fingers wove into his thick hair, kneading, tugging, holding him to her.
Then she was tumbling, her body limp with satiety. Strong arms caught her, holding her to him effortlessly as he flung back the covers and lay her in the center of the bed.
He sprawled atop her, his weight pressing her into smooth, cool sheets.
She parted her legs, bending her knees, inviting his hips to nestle against hers.
His thick manhood nudged at her still thrumming flesh. With a deep, masculine groan, he impaled himself in her.
He cupped her face between damp, rough palms. “Nothing has ever felt so good.” He covered her mouth kissing her with such tenderness, she thought she might expire from the corresponding sweet ache in her heart. Slowly, as if he couldn’t bear to part from her, he eased out of her only to sink himself into her, again, and again, and again.
She wrapped her arms around him, glorying in his weight, the fullness of their joining, the sweat dampening his back, the desperate, nonsensical things he whispered against her lips.
She could not get close enough to him. With a shameless whimper of need, she arched up meeting his thrusts, seeking his heat and more of the delicious friction.
Pleasure unfurled deep inside her. With no real warning, another release crashed through her. She cried out his name, wrapping her legs around him, locking him to her as her body shuddered against his.
“Oh, God,yes,” he choked. He reared up, his hips swiveling fast and hard into hers until his body convulsed and he loosed a long, exultant groan. When he was spent, he collapsed atop her, his heart thumping hard into hers, his breaths harsh rasps in her ear.
After several moments, he rolled off her and onto his side, reaching one strong arm to pull her backside into the cocoon of his body. Then he reached for the crumpled bedcovers, heaving them over the two of them. Warmth from his body suffused hers and she snuggled closer feeling more content than she could remember since…forever.
He traced his fingertips down the side of her breast, over her waist, finally laying one heavy palm against her belly.
“Tonight, you stay here. Promise me.”
She nodded, a smile curving her lips.
That was the last thing she recalled before waking up, just past dawn to find herself very much alone in the big bed.
Chapter Twenty
Chase was upand gone, and based on the light eking through the heavy drapes, she guessed the time at not quite six a.m. He had not only risen before her, he had somehow managed to not wake her.
Though he had beaten her to the breakfast hall every day since they’d moved to Warren House, she typically rose before him—by design. Seeing to the dogs without alerting the entire household demanded a fair amount of stealth.
Now that Chase had learned of their presence, she didn’t know how to proceed. She supposed she’d stick with her routine until ordered otherwise.
The good news was, he hadn’t seemed overly annoyed after stumbling upon them last night. But then, he’d been focused on her dealings with Lord Tully.
She wondered what his attitude about the puppies would be in the light of day.
She stretched, luxuriating in the soft sheets and heavy down blanket cocooning her in warmth in her husband’s large bed, then braced for the cold and folded back the covers.
The air felt toasty warm, not frigid with the morning chill as she’d expected. A quick glance confirmed what her body already gleaned. A crackling fire burned in the grate. Her husband had seen to it before departing the chamber. Surely a good sign?
She found her nightshift hanging neatly over his polished wooden valet. She donned it, noting stiff muscles and tender parts she had never known existed before this week.
Any amount of soreness was worth the heaven she experienced in Chase’s arms. She’d never known such all-consuming pleasure, nor such tenderness.
She crossed to the adjoining door. She’d throw on a hasty gown, apron, and coat and see to the puppies, then ready herself for breakfast and whatever consequences Chase saw fit to dole out.
With an apronfull of scraps, and a bowl of water balanced in her hands, Amelia crunched across the graveled courtyard toward the coach house. She took careful steps, trying not to slosh more water from the bowl than she delivered to the thirsty, growing pups.
With each step, her anxiety grew. Chase had promised a forthcoming discussion. She could deal with his annoyance, but what if he insisted she get rid of them before she found homes for the three?
She worried about placing Roddy most of all. The sweetest and most mischievous, he was also the smallest, weakest, and there was that business with him having only one eye. People could be so very superstitious about such things.
Nearing the building, she glanced up from the water she hefted and noted the door stood ajar. Alarm had her hastening her steps. Had she and Chase left it open last night?
