Page 26 of A Marquess of No Importance (Inglorious Scoundrels #3)

But the pleasure built to a fever pitch, and she couldn’t stop herself. She clawed at his back, leaving red lines in her wake, and gasped his name into his shoulder. He grunted, thrusting harder, desperate, as if racing her to the edge.

Her vision blurred, her body tensed, and then she came—a rush of heat, light, and sensation crashing over her like a storm. She screamed, barely aware of it, her whole body convulsing around him.

He kept moving, slamming into her with wild abandon. He buried himself in her one last time, then with a ragged growl, spilled inside her, his body shuddering with the force of release.

They lay tangled together, gasping for air, sweat cooling on their skin.

Melissande felt strangely light, even with the solid weight of him upon her. She looked up at him, her heart swelling with joy, and saw her own happiness mirrored in his eyes.

* * *

Something tickled his nose.

Rivendale stirred, raising a hand to scratch it—only then realizing he was cradling a warm bundle against his chest.

He opened his eyes to find Melissande curled in his arms, her hair brushing against his nose.

He flicked the rebellious strands aside, earning a faint, contented sigh from her.

They must have dozed off.

How could he? He had sworn the moment she nestled against him that he wouldn’t dare close his eyes. This moment was too perfect to miss.

His thigh gave a dull ache, but he ignored it, reluctant to shift or move in any way that might disturb Melissande. But it was too late. She stretched in his arms like a kitten roused from sleep.

“Did you fall asleep?” she asked, burying her face in his chest.

Rivendale ran his fingers through her hair. “For a moment.”

“Me too,” she sighed, turning onto her side but remaining within the curve of his arm, as if reluctant to part from his warmth.

He wasn’t ready to let her go either. He moved with her, fitting his body to hers and cradling her from behind.

“Sleep,” he whispered.

“Mmm…” she let out a languid moan, and Rivendale closed his eyes against the pleasant sensation. “I don’t want to. I feel so comfortable; I don’t want to miss this moment.”

Rivendale froze. She articulated exactly how he felt. He couldn’t believe that a woman like her—clever, successful, beautiful, self-sufficient, and passionate—felt the same way about him.

The most unbelievable part of it all was that she didn’t want anything from him.

Anything but him.

She was simply content to be in his presence.

It was impossible for him to reconcile in his mind.

She was perfect.

He was far from it.

And yet she chose him. And she continued to choose him.

“What is that?” she asked, leaning forward.

“What is what?” He squinted into the darkness.

“That—” She sat up, leaving a void where her warmth had just been, and pointed. “Is that the plant I gave you?”

Rivendale felt heat race up his neck. It was a good thing she wasn’t looking at him.

“You brought it with you?”

He let out a strangled, “Yes.”

Melissande climbed off the bed and approached the plant, her hips swaying seductively.

Rivendale’s cock twitched. He shifted in bed. Settle down, will you?

She touched the leaves of the plant, her face open and curious, then returned to bed, climbing under the blanket and nestling close to him.

She smiled against his collarbone. “I thought you didn’t like the plant.”

“I didn’t,” he admitted, wrapping his arms around her. Then he grimaced slightly. “To be more precise, I didn’t know what to do with it.”

“So you brought it with you?”

He nodded and pressed a kiss to her hair, simply because she was so close to him… simply because he could.

“I didn’t want it to die without me.”

She gave him a curious glance. “I was afraid you wouldn’t care for it. I didn’t think you’d like the reminder that it came from me.”

He frowned. “Why would I feel that way?”

She let out a deep sigh. “I thought you didn’t like me.”

Rivendale raised a brow. “Does it look like I don’t like you?”

She shrugged, her finger tracing invisible patterns on his arm. “Before this trip, I thought you despised me.”

He let out a dry chuckle. “You aggravated me,” he said frankly.

“I never knew how to act around you, but I never despised you… In truth, I wanted you from the moment I saw you. And that, combined with your infuriating habit of needling me, turned me into a beast.” A pause.

“Besides, I would never punish an innocent plant simply because it came from the most aggravating woman in the world.”

She chuckled and gave his arm a playful slap. He tightened his hold in response, rolling them over until her back met the mattress and he settled above her.

She immediately wound her arms around his neck, her knees parting to let him lie in the cradle of her thighs. She welcomed his touch and presence easily, as if she relished it.

He still didn’t understand why.

But he would happily take full advantage.

And he did.

Kissing her deeply, he savored the softness of her lips, his hands tracing her curves until she yielded beneath him, and he sank into her welcoming warmth.