Page 91 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
He had made sure she would not find herself with a baby. Because if there was a baby, they would marry.
If she loved him. He had called her his love.
She shifted on his lap. Her privates touched his leg and she almost jumped from the pleasure. She was still inflamed.
His eyes opened again. “Give me but a few minutes.” He reached out to steady her.
She wadded the cloth of her nightrail and wiped them both. Between her legs, there was moisture but no blood. There had been blood every time with Rigo.
She looked into the slits of his eyes.
He smiled. “It can work. You can have pleasure like that every time you are willing. Will you trust me?”
“I am willing to try.” She untied the drawstring at her neck then remembered. She would expose the brand.
“Take it off for the next lesson. You’re beautiful, all of you, just as you are, my love. My Gracie.”
Tears burned her eyes. She cupped his cheek dragging her thumbnail through the stubble there. “My love?” she whispered.
“And I mean it.” He pushed at the nightrail. “Take it off.”
“Only if you are sure,” she said.
“I’m sure.”
He buzzed with the tension of holding back, gripped the chair, and gritted his teeth. An honorable man. A man who could exercise self-control. A man who loved her.
She stood and peeled the nightrail over her head.
He was up then, carrying her to the bed, and as he had done before, pressing his lips to the scar on her belly, crawling between her legs to make love to her with his tongue, there, in her scarred, wounded, most private places. Charley kissed and laved and suckled until she was wrenching the counterpane, her moans growing louder, the pleasure building.
Her body itched to take him in.
“Please, Charley,”
He grunted.
“I want you inside me.”
He raised his head, his eyes wild. He plunged a finger into her, and then another, making her jump.
“I will go there,” he mumbled. “After we’re married.”
“But…Oh.”
Pleasure swirled and crested and burst again.
Charley rolledover and grinned at the underside of the bed canopy, tucking her close, the small part of his brain that was still working reminding him why he wouldn’t take his own pleasure inside of her.
When he turned his head, she was staring at him, heavy lidded. A small hand touched his erection, sending it bouncing. He clamped his hand over hers.
“This night is for you,” he said. “For your pleasure.”
“Your pleasure will bring me pleasure.”
He groaned and closed his eyes.
His pleasure came seconds later and for long moments, he was lost.
