Page 42 of Forbidden Until Midnight

He shifted her around him and she felt the hard length of him beneath her and she let the sensations draw her back into the sensual bliss he offered her.

His hands were full of her and it would still never be enough. Stomach muscles taut, he held himself and her upright as she pulled at the buttons on his shirt, shucking it from his shoulders, her palms smoothing over his skin as if learning the feel of it.

Cristo, her skin was like silk. Her tongue tangled with his as his hands swept across her body to find the fastening that held the dress together. As if sensing his impatience, she smiled against his lips and guided his hands to the buttons at her back, to tiny buttons that, when undone, unwrapped the dress like a present.

Before she could be revealed, his hands slipped beneath the gold layers of stiff silk and tugged the material from her body. And there she was, naked, and he nearly lost his mind.

Was this how it would be—that she would push him to the edge of his sanity? Was it something that someone like him could risk?

Her gaze beckoned him back to her, but a part of him edged away, inch by inch, seeking a self-protection that was never coming back. He was done for—a lost cause.

But that didn’t mean he should stop protecting her.

‘Santo?’

Like a siren song, she called and he went to her as if she were his redemption rather than his damnation. He rocked beneath her and relished the shiver that ran up her body. Thrusting upward as she pressed down against him, goosebumps broke over his skin as she moaned in pleasure.

Unable to wait any longer, Eleanor’s hands went to the fastening of his trousers, slipping the eye from the hook and releasing the zip. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she studied him, slowly pulling him free from his briefs, her hands around his length enough to make him come like some untried youth. He barely repressed the growl forming in the back of his throat but, from the knowing smile pulling at her lips, she’d heard him anyway. And liked it.

She looked up at him, the humour passing from her eyes. ‘I don’t want anything between us,’ she said solemnly as she stroked the length of him again.

He bit his lip, trying not to be seduced by her desire.

‘You should always use protection,cara,’ he warned, aware of the irony of him lecturing her on protection when the thought of her being with anyone but him was untenable. ‘For health, for contraception,’ he bit out through the waves of pleasure her inexperienced hands teased from him. He was barely holding on and she was offering him everything he could ever want, whilst risking his worst nightmare—the continuation of his line. Of his genes. Of hisfather’s.

He held his forehead against hers and tried to keep himself from thrusting into her caress.

‘I’m on contraception.’

Her words pressed against his lips, and this time he was unable to hold back the groan that she swallowed as she opened her mouth to his in a kiss.

This woman was his undoing.

And then he cursed for a different reason.

‘Bedroom,’ he said against her mouth.

‘No time,’ Eleanor replied, pulling his waist between her legs.

‘We willmaketime,’ he commanded as he stepped back, plucked her from the sofa, hauled her into his arms, smiled when she squeaked, and stalked towards the bedroom. He was damned if he’d let her first time be some desperate scramble on a sofa.

He carried her down the corridor, almost disbelieving that he had her in his arms. That this time was theirs, finally. He toed the bedroom door open and, in the gentle upward lighting, made his way to place her gently on the bed.

She was utterly beautiful to him. It was a rush of knowledge, of blood, of conviction, of want, and he wasn’t ashamed that he shook from the power of it. In that moment, he nearly turned back. He wasn’t worthy of her, of this. There were things that Eleanor didn’t know. But, just as his conscience began to stir, she sat forward, a frown between her eyes, a thread of concern that he never wanted to see passing across her exquisite features, and in his rush to reassure her, his thoughts fled.

He kneeled on the edge of the bed, coming for her, relishing the delight that now filled her gaze.

‘You’re wearing too many clothes,’ she accused, as if in a sulk.

He cocked his head to the side, testing the game she wanted to play.

‘What are you going to do about it, Princess?’

She rose to her knees, meeting him much closer on the bed than he’d expected. His entire body reacted, the hairs on his skin raising, the tightening of his muscles, ready for action, bound by restraint. A little smirk pulled at her lips and it was almost adorable. But the humour dropped beneath sharp need, when her hands went to the waistband of his trousers and pushed the material from his hips.

His jaw ached with the tension running through his body, holding him back, letting her explore as she wanted to. He pulled back enough to remove the loose trousers from his legs, to find her frowning at his briefs.

‘Those too,’ she commanded imperiously.

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