Page 74 of Surrender Your Grace
“Please, Andrew. Don’t make me wait any longer.”
He didn’t. He entered her with aching tenderness. She gasped at the fullness, the stretch—but her arms wrappedaround him, drawing him close. Their rhythm was gentle at first, rediscovering each other.
Each kiss lingered. Each breath, shared.
It built—soft, slow then urgent. Her fingers gripped his shoulders. His name tore from her lips as pleasure crested and broke.
He followed with a groan, forehead to hers, their bodies trembling, hearts racing.
In the hush that followed, wrapped in tangled sheets and fading firelight, Cici traced idle circles across his chest.
“I waited for something else. Much too long, and I shouldn’t have,” he said quietly.
She stilled, sensing the weight behind his voice.
“I love you, Cici. More than I ever knew possible.”
Her breath caught. Her hand rose to his cheek, thumb brushing his mouth. “And I love you, Andrew. I have… since Arendale. Before everything fell apart. I was just afraid to say it.”
He kissed her—soft, reverent—as if the words had changed something in his bones.
“Never be afraid with me, Cici,” he whispered. “Especially not to share your heart.”
He turned his head and pressed a kiss into her palm. “I intend to share mine by telling you how much I love you every day.”
“And every night,” she whispered—so full of happiness, hope, love, and a host of other emotions she thought she might burst.
They snuggled close, and for a long moment she thought he slept—until he chuckled.
“What’s funny?”
“I’m clearly a terrible disciplinarian,” he murmured into her hair. “You were meant to be punished, not rewarded.”
She tipped her head back with a sly smile.
“I don’t know… you seemed rather adept at both.”
His laughter as he hugged her close—low and warm—was the sound of a man finally at ease.
They drifted off, skin to skin, no longer a void between them. Only promise.
Chapter 22
The following morning, with a warm glow lingering from the night before, Cici's appetite returned in full force. She filled her plate with poached eggs, spiced ham on toast, and a scone slathered with Arendale blackberry jam.
Sliding into the chair beside Andrew, she was rewarded with an approving glance at her plate and a kiss on the cheek before he returned to his newspaper.
Maggie entered shortly after and eased into her seat with a visible wince.
Alarmed, Cici’s eyes darted to Andrew. “You didn’t—”
He lowered the paper with a pointed look. “Correct. I didn’t. But like you, what she got, she earned.”
Before she could respond, Lord Rothbury breezed in, far too much cheer for the hour. He joined Maggie, arranged his napkin with exaggerated flourish, and accepted coffee from the footman.
“You’re out early, my lord,” Cici observed.
“With the snow and the late hour, your husband offered me a guest chamber,” he replied with an easy, charming smile. “I’ll need a word with you after breakfast regarding your sister’s betrothal, Andrew. Then I’ll take her for an early ride in the park.”
