Page 21 of To Heist and to Hold

The hot ache in the juncture of her thighs flared even hotter as he swirled his tongue about her nipple and drew it farther into his mouth.

She pressed her legs tight together, as if it could somehow relieve the tension there.

But the ache only grew stronger, making her whimper, making her squirm.

As if he sensed what she needed, his hand trailed down her body to the hem of her gown, grasping a fistful of her skirts, pulling them up.

And then his hand gently nudged her thighs apart, sliding between them to that place that was quickly becoming the center of everything.

“Oh,” she breathed as his palm pressed against her. “Oh, Ethan.”

He started, and stilled, and she feared that she had made a fatal error in using his name. But then he groaned in reply, the sound traveling through her breast and down her body, making the sensation between her legs that much more acute.

“Say it again,” he rasped, his full lips brushing against her aching nipple, his hot breath coming hard and fast.

Before she could ask what he meant, his fingers found the center of her. She cried out, hips bucking up as pure, raw sensation tore through her body.

“Say it,” he repeated, his voice hoarse. “Say my name.”

“Ethan,” she managed, fingers tangling in his hair as she urged him back to her breast. “Ethan.”

“Ah, God,” he moaned, the sound almost helpless, a second before he closed his mouth once more about her nipple.

His fingers, still between her thighs, quickened their movements, rubbing against her.

She threw her head back, hair rasping against the coverlet, even as every muscle in her body was drawn taut as a bowstring.

What, she wondered dazedly, would happen to her if he released the string, if he let the arrow fly?

She quickly found out as, leaving her breast and moving down her body, he settled between her legs. His hot breath washed over her as he nudged her thighs farther apart. And then he was claiming that most private part of her with his mouth.

Her breath left her on a long exhalation, her spine arching off the bed, her hands finding and holding on to his head.

She would wonder later why she hadn’t been shocked to her core, why she hadn’t pushed him away and scrambled up from the bed.

She had never had anything like that done to her, had never dreamed it could be done. And yet…

And yet in that moment, with his mouth and tongue loving such an incredibly intimate place on her body, she could only think how very right it felt.

It was as if she had been made for this loving, as if her body had unknowingly yearned for it for years, and now that she was here spread before him it was the most natural thing in the world.

Hooking her thighs over his wide shoulders, he ran his hands over her hips to her belly, the large warmth of them splaying over her quivering stomach to hold her in place.

All the while his mouth kissed and nipped and sucked, his tongue dipping within her folds, finding the very epicenter of her pleasure.

She gasped as he licked there, fingers tightening on his hair as she pressed up into the open warmth of his mouth.

A low growl escaped him, the vibration doing wonderful, wicked things to her, making the pleasure peak until she didn’t think she could soar any higher.

Just then, however, his clever fingers found her cleft, and she discovered she could soar much higher, indeed.

His fingers slipped inside her, first one, then two, stretching her, filling her.

And all the while his mouth continued working its magic.

Helpless whimpers escaped from her throat as the pressure in her body built.

Her hips began to work in tandem with him, reaching for something she could not begin to understand.

Just when she thought her body could not take a bit more of the almost unbearable pressure, he pulled her into his mouth, sucking deep, and she shattered into a million glittering pieces.

Before she could even begin to put herself together again he was over her, mouth on her breast, on her neck, on her cheek, frantic kisses that made the ache between her legs return.

“Can I, Heloise?” he panted in her ear, the rough desperation sending shivers of renewed need through her body. “Can I love you?”

Can I love you? She shuddered at the hot hunger in that question. Not that she had any delusion that he was truly in love with her. Hell, they barely tolerated each other. This was purely physical.

But good God, that question went straight to her soul. “Yes,” she breathed. “God, yes.”

He groaned, a sound that came from deep in his chest, even as he crushed her mouth under his.

He tasted of her, a heady flavor on her tongue, and her eyes rolled back in her head, remembering where that mouth had been just moments before.

And then his thigh was between hers, urging her to widen them.

She did so eagerly, hands gripping tight to his shoulders as his lean hips slid into the juncture there.

The fine material of his breeches rasped against the tender skin of her inner thighs and the swollen flesh at her center, sending a shudder of need through her, making her whimper.

One of his hands worked between their bodies, undoing his falls, freeing himself.

In the next moment the hot, blunt tip of him pressed against her.

Then, after one last pause, he exhaled a hiss of pleasure and carefully pushed into her.

Heloise cried out as he stretched her, her head falling back, fingernails digging into the fine silk of his waistcoat. To her surprise, he paused, pulling back, gazing down at her with a face drawn tight with worry.

“Am I hurting you?” he panted.

She stared up at him, stunned that he would take the time to question her on that. And looking into his eyes she suddenly knew, without a doubt, he would stop here and now if she so much as asked.

Her heart gave an unsteady lurch, and there was the peculiar sting of tears behind her eyes. Confused by her reaction, she hastily shook her head. “No,” she managed, a mere breath of a sound. “You’re not hurting me.” And then, because she could not stop herself if she tried, “Please don’t stop.”

His eyes turned molten, the heat from the low fire seeming to have transferred into their depths.

Cradling her face in his hands, he lowered his mouth to hers.

Though this time there was something else to his kiss, an aching need that hadn’t been present before.

He pushed forward again, filling her. He was so unbelievably hard, and as he began to move, a slow retreat and advance that left her breathless with want, she found this was very different from when he had kissed between her legs.

That had been intense, overwhelming. This, however, was so much more.

His large body pressed her down into the soft mattress, the weight of it delicious, the sensation of his hips spreading her wide driving her wild.

Though they were fully clothed—for the most part—she could feel the rapid, heavy beat of his heart against her breasts, proof that he was as affected as she.

And his mouth… God, his mouth never stopped moving, devouring her lips, her jaw, her neck.

But what affected her most was the sounds coming from his lips.

Soft gasps and ragged breaths and low, rough moans that seemed to be dredged up from the very depths of his soul.

They grew wilder as his movements became almost frantic.

And then he reached back, hooking a hand under her knee, and hitched her leg up, spreading her body wider and tilting her hips to receive him more fully.

He hit something inside her then, a secret spot that made her explode around him and had her keening her release.

“Heloise,” he groaned into her neck, before, pulling himself from her body, he took himself in hand, finishing himself into the coverlet as he threw his head back and shouted his own completion into the night.

The thought that he would surely roll from her and bid her leave managed to worm its way into her hazy mind as he collapsed atop her and his harsh breathing filled her ear.

After all, wasn’t that what it had been like with Gregory?

He’d never liked to linger with her once the deed was done.

And she hadn’t minded in the least. She had preferred to be alone after.

Surprisingly, the thought of Ethan doing the same made her oddly mournful.

When he finally did rise from the bed, however, it wasn’t to kick her from the room.

To her shock—or, at least, as much shock as she was capable of with her body and mind in a state of such utter depletion—he bent and took her in his arms, lifting her against his chest. With deft movements he threw back the coverlet and lowered her with infinite care to the sheets.

As she watched, stunned, he gently removed her shoes, followed by his own boots, before climbing fully dressed into the bed with her.

And not only to lie beside her. No, he gathered her up in his arms, pulling her to his side.

Then, hand cradling her head and lips at her temple, he gave a soft sigh, his large body relaxing.

Why, she thought as she listened to his steady heartbeat under her ear, did she suddenly feel like crying? Eyes burning, a sudden languid exhaustion pulling at her, she found her body melting into his, and within moments quickly fell into blessed unconsciousness as sleep claimed her.