Page 91 of All is Fair in Love
Poppy licked her lips as Francis’s gaze settled on her breasts. Hunger blazed in his bright blue eyes. Desire for her. With the way he looked at her, she truly believed she was beautiful. That this man could love her. She nodded, swallowing deep as Francis sat back and stripped off his shirt.
Oh, yes.
“One of the things about being tall is that I have extremely long arms. Lay back, Poppy, and let me show you how much of a godsend that can be.”
Resting her head on the end of the tub, Poppy closed her eyes. A shiver rippled down her spine at his first touch. His fingers brushed her already peaked nipple. When his thumb and forefinger gently squeezed the tight bud, the core of her sex tightened.
“Francis,” she whispered.
Warm, tender lips captured her mouth. Poppy gave herself up to the kiss—to the gentle lure of the man who had captured her heart.
His fingers traced lightly over her breast, then continued on down over her stomach. Anticipation flared bright within her body. Burning need flamed a hunger only he could sate.
When his roaming hands reached the soft hair of her sex, he stopped. Poppy shifted her position, opening her legs wider. “Yes. Don’t ask. Just take.”
From beside her came the deep, wicked words. “I plan to give first, after which you can decide if I get to take.”
Her back arched as he slipped his finger deep into her heat. His clever thumb circled around her pleasure nib. Every stroke had her whimpering with aching need.
Poppy had imagined this moment, pictured it in glorious detail. Nothing could compare to the reality of having a semi-naked Francis beside her, his hands creating wonderful mischief with her sex.
As heat built inside her, she stayed his hand. “I want to come, but not this way,” she whispered.
“How?”
“I want you inside me.”
When he didn’t respond, she cracked open an eye. Deep blue pools of desire stared back at her. There was no sense of hesitation in them. The only words she could possibly use to describe what she was feeling were humble gratitude.
She was trusting him.
Francis knelt over her, capturing Poppy’s mouth in a toe-curling kiss. His tongue delved deep, and she answered his siren’s call.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
He drew back. “You need to know that if we become one tonight, it is forever. If we fight or disagree, there can be no getting on board a ship and leaving. My bed—our bed—is where we both sleep from now on.”
Sex had never been this way before. There hadn’t been the expectation of more. But Francis was being honest and clear with her, leaving no doubt as to what tonight meant for them and their future.
This moment should have been an easy one. And for many other women, that was what it would have been. He was offering her a life by his side.
Poppy wanted more. She was determined to have it. And if Francis couldn’t or wouldn’t then . . .
A line of worry appeared on his brow. “Don’t you want me? Or is it that you don’t think you could ever love me?”
Love.
A simple little word, yet so powerful.
She climbed to her feet. Sitting naked in the water had her feeling vulnerable. Francis wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted Poppy out of the tub, setting her onto the fireside rug.
Her lifelong problem had always been trusting men. Having them make promises with no intention of ever keeping them. Francis was asking for forever. What sort of promise was that?
He didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled her hard against him. “I want your love. And I shall do whatever it takes to claim it. Poppy, there will never be another woman for me. You are it. The love of my life.”
Her knees almost went from under her. He loved her. “Say it again. Please.”
He nodded. “I love you, Poppy Basden. I shall have no other but you.”
