Page 127 of The Secrets of Lord Grayson Child
Corby bowed. “Indeed, my lord. That would be much appreciated.”
With Izzy grinning delightedly, Gray steered her to the stairs. Halfway up the first flight, he paused and looked back. “Oh—and Corby?”
About to disappear down the hall, Corby halted and looked up. “Yes, my lord?”
“If we don’t appear again today, don’t send a search party.”
Corby looked faintly affronted. “Of course not, my lord!”
Izzy couldn’t help her laugh. She caught Gray’s hand and tugged. “Come on and stop teasing the poor man. He’s coped wonderfully given he’s never had to butler a gathering such as today’s.”
Despite their years of waiting, neither, it seemed, saw any reason to rush. Instead, they prolonged the anticipation by ambling, exchanging comments about this and that, remarking on the new furnishings they’d installed to soften and brighten the corridors and make the house more definitely theirs.
Eventually, they reached the door at the end of the upstairs corridor, the door that opened to the master suite. Gray set it swinging, and smiling, Izzy led the way inside, waiting only until he followed and shut the door to boldly walk into his arms.
They closed around her as she stretched up and, framing his face with both hands, set her lips to his.
The passion that had simmered for ten long years ignited.
Heat raced through them, and the years fell away, and they were the eager young couple they once had been, driven by their natures and their physical needs. Needs they could finally unleash.
Their lips melded. Their tongues dueled—seeking, exploring, and claiming.
He lured, and she followed without hesitation, eager and brazenly wanton in her desire to venture and learn.
Encouraged, he caressed her, sculpting her curves, still tightly encased in silk and lace.
She murmured in incoherent dissatisfaction and reached behind her to undo the tiny buttons that marched down her spine. Blindly, he helped, then she broke from the kiss to shed the delicate gown, closely followed by her ruffled petticoats. She kicked off her ivory slippers, and before he could do more than stare at the sight of the curvaceous figure defined by her corset, she launched herself at him, kissing him as if she were starving and he was her only hope of succor.
Need hit him like a train, driven and unstoppable.
He gripped her hips and fell into the kiss, into the raging torrent of desire and wanting she’d called forth and set free.
In short order, clothes flew, and with hands reaching, searching, stroking and possessing, they waltzed their way across the room.
Then they fell on the bed, hot skin to searing skin, and the jolt to their senses shocked them to stillness.
Darkened by passion, their eyes met.
Their gazes locked and held.
Both were breathing in shallow gasps, gripped by a yearning so powerful and intense they all but vibrated with the compulsion to rush on.
But they weren’t the youthful would-be lovers they once had been.
She might not be experienced in this sphere, yet he knew she knew there was more.
Lost in the glory of her eyes, he drew in a huge breath.
And more or less in concert, they drew on their reins.
Moving much more slowly, he lowered his head, and once again, their lips melded. But this time, they held the heat and driving urgency at bay and tasted each other, supped and sipped and savored.
Instinct—his and hers—flared and led them on, and together, like musicians following the directions of a conductor’s baton, they embarked on a slow, sensuous journey into intimacy.
Beat by beat, the pleasure mounted, and soft gasps and murmurs of appreciation became their symphony, one to which they both contributed.
Explorations were steeped in reverence, discoveries treated with worshipful awe.
