Page 47 of To Catch an Earl

“Harland!”

He pressed the heel of his hand against her. “Now,” he growled.

His order pushed her over the edge of some invisible abyss. Her entire body tensed, then shattered, as pleasure radiated over her in waves.

She was still shuddering when he rose up and covered her with his body, supporting the weight of his torso on his arms. The lower half of him pressed against her, a delicious, unfamiliar weight, and Emmy opened her legs to allow him to fit more snugly between her thighs. He enveloped her, overwhelmed her in the best possible way, and the musky scent of him, of them, increased her arousal even more.

Here in the dark, they were equals, both as blind as each other. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear his throaty growl; it resonated in his chest and down into her limbs.

“I want to be inside you. Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” she panted.

He caught her hand and drew it down between them. Emmy sucked in a breath as he curled her fingers aroundhis shaft and covered them with his own. He let out an impassioned groan and his fist gave an involuntary squeeze.

“Trouble,” he muttered thickly.

Emmy widened her eyes at the feel of him. Velvet soft and truncheon hard. With him guiding their joined hands, he positioned himself at the entrance of her body, sliding against her slick folds, and she shivered in anticipation.

Alex was shaking with the need to join his body with Emmy’s, but there was one thing he needed to know.

“Am I your first?” he breathed raggedly. “Are you a virgin?”

He heard her surprised exhale. “Yes, I—”

“I’ll go slowly,” he heard himself promise, then could have bitten off his own tongue. Despite his words, he hadn’t meant to go this far. He’d planned to make her climax with his hand and then let her do the same for him. A satisfactory quenching of this ridiculous, inconvenient desire. But suddenly, being inside Emmy Danvers seemed vital to his continued survival.

The fact that she was a virgin should have cooled his ardor—she’d only confirmed what he’d already suspected—but the thought that he would be the first to show her pleasure this way gave him an unreasonable rush of satisfaction.

He told himself this wasn’t making love. It was just sex. Lust. Fucking in its purest form. But that didn’t explain the tendrils of affection that had become entwined with the attraction. He wanted to both conquer her and protect her. To capture herandkeep her safe. He didn’t even begin to understand it.

She must have taken his silence for hesitation. “Changed your mind, Harland?” she whispered, and hecould hear the breathless challenge in her tone, alongside the bravado.

Cheeky little minx.

He tilted his hips and entered her just a fraction, and felt her tense. Sweat broke out on his forehead. He wanted to plunge forward, to bury himself to the hilt, but he forced himself to keep his promise. He didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted her to experience the same heart-bursting pleasure he did.But God, the feel of her.

He slid his hand beneath her thigh, lifted her to a better angle, and clenched his teeth as he slid forward another inch. He withdrew, then pushed into her again, and this time, he heard her gasp. Her fingers encircled his wrists like manacles. She squeezed, and he found he loved the sensation; she held him captive with only a touch.

He hated that he couldn’t see her. Being completely blind was his worst nightmare. It reminded him too forcefully of those moments right after the battlefield blast that had stolen part of his vision. He’d lain stunned on the ground, his ears ringing, all other sounds muffled by his perforated eardrums. For a moment of utter panic, he’d thought he’d lost his sight completely. Then his vision had cleared, and he’d seen smoke, and sky, and Seb stumbling toward him, blood streaming down the side of his face. Never had he been so glad to see his friend.

And now here he was, in the dark with Emmy Danvers, and his worst nightmare had suddenly become his hottest fantasy.

The darkness should have allowed him to pretend she was someone else, but it was impossible to forget who he was with. The maddening scent of her filled his nose. The taste of her skin was hers alone, floral and delicious. It was inescapablyherpinned beneath him. Emmeline Danvers, the bloody Nightjar.

She wriggled, impatient, and he entered her full-length.

“Fuuuuck,” he groaned.

He sucked in a breath, determined to give her time to get used to his body’s invasion, but she squirmed beneath him again, and his brain went a little fuzzy. He rocked back and forth until he slid in easily, and reveled in her hum of delight when he found the perfect rhythm.

His usual finesse abandoned him. He was hungry for her. Desperate. Her hands roamed over his body, threading through his hair, clutching at his biceps. Her nails scored his back with a pleasure-pain that made him shudder.

“Who has you?” he heard himself growl.

“You,” she panted, “Alex Harland.” Her voice held a delight and disbelief that mirrored his own.

He increased the tempo, and she ground against him, unconsciously seeking her own climax.

---