Page 45 of Alone with a Scarred Earl
His body ached with tension, poised between instinctive recoil and the desperate need to drag her closer. That she could touch the worst parts of him without fear or disgust shattered something old and bitter that had lodged within him far too long. She touched his scars. And she did not pull away.
A low growl escaped his throat, not from restraint but from the sudden surge of wanting that rolled through him like thunder. His hands closed around the fabric of her chemise and petticoats, tugging them downward in one swift, impatient motion. The linen whispered across her skin before falling away entirely, baring her to his gaze at last. He drank her in.
The sight of her naked, flushed, and trembling with something between fear and desire seized his breath and drove all remaining restraint from his limbs. His gaze swept over her, claiming what had already been offered with silent, shaking courage. The delicate swell of her breasts, the subtle flare of her hips, the elegant line of her throat. All of it was his to witness, to touch, to treasure. Without a word, he lifted her into his arms.
She made a small sound as he set her upon the high bed. The cool linens beneath her contrasted sharply with her fevered skin. He followed at once, bracing himself on either side of her body, covering her completely, pinning her to the mattress with nothing more than the intensity of his presence. Her eyes widened. His mouth found hers again, rougher now, demanding. The kiss was no longer coaxing. It was conquest, yes, but of a kind rooted in something far deeper than flesh. It demanded surrender not of her body alone, but of the last barrier between them. She yielded to it without hesitation, her hands rising to clutch his shoulders, pulling him down, closer, deeper.
He broke from her mouth only to trail kisses lower, across the delicate line of her jaw, then further to the soft, sensitive skin just below her ear. She arched beneath him as he found the frantic pulse in her neck with his mouth. He tasted her there, felt the wild rhythm that betrayed everything she could not say aloud.
She cried out, hands fisting in his hair, urging him on.
He obeyed the wordless plea. His mouth moved lower, then lower still, claiming every inch of her he dared. Each gasp from her lips fed the hunger inside him, that feral need to possess and protect, to make her his in the most elemental way a man could.
But still, beneath the surge of need, something gentler stirred.
He lifted his head, bracing his weight on one arm as he looked down at her. Her lips were parted, her eyes dark with heat and something more vulnerable. The rise and fall of her chest matched his own unsteady rhythm. He studied her for a long moment, his heart pounding hard enough to drown out reason.
His voice, when it came, sounded foreign to his own ears—gravel-thick, unsteady.
“This is your first,” he said. He was certain of that, as she was more than a proper lady. There was no accusation. He merely meant to acknowledge that he was aware without making her feel uncomfortable.
She did not answer with words. She merely nodded, her already flushed cheeks reddening further still. Her gaze slid away from his, lashes lowered, a flush climbing from her throat to her cheeks. Her fingers trembled where they clung tohis shoulders. That was all the answer he required. He swore beneath his breath, the sound guttural, born of warring instincts. A muscle jumped in his jaw as he forced himself to stillness.
Slowly, deliberately, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. It was gentle, reverent, and aching with restraint. His mouth lingered there, absorbing the warmth of her skin. When he spoke again, the words were low, almost inaudible.
“Let me know if you are in any pain,” he said.
The softness in his voice startled even himself. He felt the breath she drew in response. He felt the shiver that ran through her body, and the way her arms wrapped around his back, drawing him down once more. The fire between them did not dim, but in that moment it changed. The need did not vanish, but it made room for something greater. This was certainly no conquest or escape. This was a chance for a deep, unshakable bond. And he realized it was what they both needed.
Chapter Nineteen
His body hovered above hers, the breadth of him filling her vision, stealing her breath. She lay beneath him, the sheets rumpled around her hips, her limbs loose, trembling, and aglow with the ache of closeness, of exposure. Moonlight slipped through the bed curtains in pale, shifting ribbons, touching the strong lines of his shoulders, the taut curve of his arms. The heat of his skin radiated between them, and though her body had never known such intimate connection, her soul had already surrendered.
His hands settled at her hips, fingers digging into her skin with barely leashed restraint. Her own hands found his upper arms, gripping the iron muscle of his biceps. She held fast, bracing herself. Anticipation coiled in her chest, sharp and wild and heavy with need. Beneath it, something far older stirred. There was fear, yes, but not the fear of him. It was the fear of the unknown, of change, of crossing some line from which there would be no return. But even that hesitation could not hold against the storm rising within her.
She looked up at him, eyes wide, unblinking. He met her gaze with an intensity that burned, one she felt as deeply as the tension stringing his entire body taut above her. The air between them pulsed with unspoken things, none of which could be named, only felt. He shifted ever so slightly. The brush of his body against hers drew a soft gasp from her lips, not of pain, not truly, but of surprise and the shocking intimacy. She could suddenly feel him aligning with her, and the sheer, staggering reality of it.
He pressed forward, cautiously, the first movement tentative, a slow, gentle rocking that tested the limits of her body’s acceptance. Her nails dug into his skin as her breath caught. Her hips tilted in reflex, and though the sensation burned, it was bearable. He paused at once, still as stone, watching her with a question written clear across his features. She swallowed hard, nodded faintly, and clung tighter. He moved again.
The rhythm remained careful, each motion deliberate and restrained. He withdrew almost entirely, then sank back into her slowly, as though memorizing every part of her. The stretch of her body, the subtle ache, the bewildering pleasure consumed her, rewriting every sense she had ever known. Her limbs tensed,uncertain, but her heart beat in answer, urging her forward, drawing her deeper into the moment. A soft cry escaped her throat. Something shifted.
The pain faded, melting into something richer, stranger, and far more dangerous. The way his body slid against hers awakened an uncoiling heat low in her belly, a sensation at once terrifying and exquisite. Her hands slid from his arms to his back, exploring the ridges of muscle as her hips rose to meet him with growing confidence. She felt the hitch in his breath as she moved beneath him, a sound that rippled through her like a flame across dry paper. He groaned, low and rough, and his rhythm changed.
His movements became bolder, deeper, the pace increasing just enough to quicken her breath. Each thrust fed the pressure building inside her, driving her closer to some unknown precipice. Her body began to respond with a will of its own, rising to meet him, the shock of each motion blurring into pleasure too intense to bear. She held nothing back.
She clung to him, wrapped herself around him, her legs tangled with his, her arms locked across his back. Her hair clung to her damp neck, her chest heaving with every breath. The bed shifted beneath them, protesting faintly with each urgent movement. The sound faded from her awareness, replaced by the ragged rhythm of his breathing, the heat of his mouth against her throat, the driving force of his hips. She cried out again, this time louder, his name torn from her lips.
It no longer mattered who she had been before this moment. It no longer mattered what had kept them apart, what expectations society held over her head. She moved with him now, matched him, and gave herself wholly. The world beyond the bedchamber ceased to exist. Every breath, every sound, every sensation had narrowed to this.
Her hands threaded through his hair, tugging him closer. His mouth found hers again, brutal with need, then softened as her lips parted beneath his. She tasted desperation, possession, devotion. His control was slipping, she could feel it in the way his movements lost their precision, in the tremor of his arms as they braced above her, in the desperate heat of his body pressing deeper, harder, and faster. The pressure inside her built to an unbearable pitch.
She broke the kiss with a shuddering gasp. Her head fell back against the pillows, and her body arched, hips lifting to meet each driving thrust. His name spilled from her lips again, choked and breathless, as pleasure surged through her like a tide. She could not hold it back. Her fingers clawed at his back, dragging him down, needing his weight, his heat, his body grounding her through the storm breaking loose inside her. He growled her name against her throat.
The sound vibrated through her as his own release claimed him. His body shuddered. The groan he gave was guttural, raw, pulled from the depths of him. He collapsed above her, bracing just enough to avoid crushing her, his face buried in the curve of her neck. For long moments, neither of them moved. Her body, still pulsing in the aftermath, felt as though it no longer belonged to her. She could notthink or speak. She only breathed, and even that felt unfamiliar. It was as though she had been born anew into a world she had never imagined. And she did not regret it.
There was no shame in what they had done. Only wonder, and a bone-deep sense of rightness that eclipsed everything else. She drew her arms tighter around him, and in the silence that followed, she closed her eyes. She had given herself to him, completely. And he had received her not as something to boastfully conquer, but as something precious. I now belong to him, she realized dreamily. And with the realization, she smiled.
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