Page 73 of Tempting the Earl

Did it matter?

She turned to enter the larger space, feeling him just a few paces behind her. Reaching the center of the room, she paused as a rush of uncertainty claimed her.

He’d said he didn’t regret their actions last night, but what if his desire for her had been sated? That possibility was painful to consider, especially since her own desire seemed only to have grown exponentially.

“Would you like to have a seat?” he asked, indicating his bed.

His bed. Sparks danced through her blood. “Probably not,” she replied, her voice tight.

He nodded again then took up his typical stance. Feet braced, spine straight, and hands held behind his back. She almost smiled. Even in nothing but a towel, he managed to look fiercely stoic and quietly domineering.

But she’d seen him lose control. She’d felt it. She’d reveled in it.

“My lord,” she began, trying to keep her voice level though her heart trembled with a vulnerability she hadn’t felt in years and her body hummed with rampant desire. “Our conversation this morning was cut rather short, and unfortunately, there are certain things that require a wee bit of clarification.”

A frown darkened his features and the muscles across his chest tensed.

Doing her best not to be distracted by the brief display of his toned physique, Ainsworth forced herself to meet his intent and focused gaze. But as soon as she did so, her stomach twisted sharply and her tongue felt suddenly thick and heavy.

Bluidy hell, why was this so hard?

Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage. “I want you to ken that I’ve absolutely no expectations of you after last night. I understand that once passion is sated, it may not return and there’s a possibility you may not desire to repeat the experience.” Her voice hesitated as his expression hardened into a fierce scowl. Forcing the rest through tightening lungs, she finished her confession in a breathless rush, “But you should ken that I do.”

His body tensed sharply and his eyes flickered in a way that sent chills down her arms.

He took a stalking step toward her as he asked in a low, roughened voice. “You do what?”

“I do desire to repeat the experience,” she stated with a lifted chin.

He took another step, closing the distance between them by half, even though he kept his hands clasped behind his back. Ainsworth’s body was practically alight with sensual anticipation even though he hadn’t yet given any indication he was in accord with her position beyond the rather intense look in his eyes.

Standing close enough to her now that she could easily slip her arms around his neck if she wanted, he looked down at her to say in a hushed murmur, “You want me to make love to you again?”

Her voice was utterly gone. All she could do was nod, which she did. Emphatically.

It was enough.

The sensual beast he kept so carefully contained inside him leapt forth. With a low sound of undeniable hunger, he hauled her into his arms and lifted her off her feet. And just like that, the desire flowing hot in her blood ignited into a raging inferno.

Shifting one hand to her buttocks, he grasped the material of her robe and nightgown with the other, shoving them high enough that she could wrap her legs around his hips. In two steps, he had her pressed back against one of his carved bedposts. Her body lit up in response to his sudden fervent ardor—his fierce and beautiful passion fully unleashed.

Holding her hips in his hands, he rocked his pelvis into the cradle of her thighs.

She moaned at the wonderful pressure of his hardness where she needed it most. Clinging to his shoulders, she tipped her head to find his mouth. But he didn’t kiss her. He kept his lips just out of reach as he stared into her eyes.

He rocked his hips again. A wickedness entered his gaze as he seemed to revel in the way her lashes fluttered and her breath caught. “Please, my lord,” she gasped, trusting he’d know what she was asking for.

With a quick adjustment, he shifted his hold on her hips and she felt his fingers sliding along her wet folds. The intimate caress was exquisite and her moan was heavy and deep.

He lowered his head beside hers to whisper darkly, “I think you could call me Colin considering our current situation, don’t you?”

A choked little laugh rose up at the words. But she readily complied. “Colin,” she gasped as two of his fingers slid inside her. “Colin,” she moaned as he twisted and thrust those fingers in a torturous, glorious rhythm.

The towel had slipped from around his hips and she could feel the heat of his erection against her thigh and hip. She wanted it inside her, but she couldn’t form the words to ask for it while his fingers moved with such demanding expertise. “Colin.” It was all she seemed capable of saying. “Colin.”

There was another quick shift and change of grip and then he was there, poised hot and hard at her entrance, bracing her weight in his arms as he pressed her against the solid column of the bedpost. Their gazes met and held. “Ainsworth,” he murmured thickly against her lips as he thrust slowly upward until he filled her completely.

Her legs tightened around him and her tongue twirled passionately with his.

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