And then he bent his head—
“What are you—?” she started.
He licked her. With his tongue. Between her legs.
She clutched the sheets, her toes tightening, her insides quaking. She’d never felt anything like it, so soft and yet so relentless, his tongue lapping at her folds, circling her bud, driving inside of her.
It was unbelievable.
It was wonderful.
She felt him spread her with his fingers and she wanted to object to his…familiarity. To the way he seemed to feel he had the right to do this to her. But she was flying, so light with the pure pleasure he was giving her that she couldn’t speak.
All she could do was feel.
And then she was reaching that point, her legs moving without her will, her hands twisting in the sheets, the heat building and building until she could no longer hold it back.
She fell, bursting from within, beautiful warmth flooding her belly and limbs, radiating from her center, reaching her fingertips and toes.
He licked her a few more times, lazily, and then he was climbing up her like a great cat cornering its prey.
He spread her legs even wider and she felt something big and blunt at her entrance.
His cock.
She opened her eyes, looking up at him.
“All right?” he grunted, looking strained. He was holding himself still, waiting on her answer, and she knew that he would pull away if she told him to right now.
He’d stop himself for her.
A wave of affection washed through her. As it happened, she didn’t want him to stop.
She twined her arms around his neck and whispered, “Put yourself in me.”
He jolted at that, his hips surging forward just enough to breach her.
She waited for pain but felt none.
She watched as he inhaled. Pulled back. Nudged carefully into her again.
A little more.
Inch by tender inch he pressed into her, widening her. Stretching her for his thick, hard flesh.
She tilted her hips, wanting more, impatient.
And then suddenly he jolted home.
He lay for a moment between her spread thighs, on her, pinning her down with his greater weight and bulk, impaling her with his penis.
Then he looked at her, and when she smiled he began to move.
Tiny waves. Small nudges. His hips hardly shifting at all.
It was quite, quite maddening.
She squirmed, trying to make him move, wanting more.
He pulled back then and shoved into her. A solid, hard thrust that made her see stars.
And then he did it again. And again. Watching her with unsmiling eyes, much too intently.
She couldn’t look away from his gaze. Couldn’t hide her face. Couldn’t do anything but lie beneath his hard thrusts and feel.
And when he bowed his head over her, his lips pulled away from his teeth, his nostrils flared, his eyes tragic and aware, she felt something inside her open.
He was in the throes of orgasm. Lit. Stricken. Wracked.
But she was the one who lost her heart.
Chapter Twelve
“Now I have no one left to marry,” said Prince Brad. “This is all your fault, frog.”
“My fault?” said the frog, and she would have raised her eyebrows had she had any. “I really don’t see how any of this is my fault.”
“Well, I’ve had quite enough of you in any case,” Brad snarled. “I wish I could get rid of you.”
“You could always kiss me,” retorted the frog.
So he did.…
—From The Frog Princess
Sarah stared at herself in her mirror the next evening while her maid arranged her hair for the Christmas Eve ball.
She’d woken that morning all alone in her bed, which made perfect sense.
Adam mustn’t be found in her bed. It would ruin her reputation.
He was only thinking of her. Being practical.
Still, it was hard to not feel restless. Confused. Had last night been all Adam wanted from her? He had made no promises, unlike the rake who had destroyed her reputation.
And yet…she hadn’t had a chance to talk to him alone today, caught up as she had been in the preparations for the ball tonight.
She badly wanted to talk to him.
She inhaled, steadying herself. He was leaving tomorrow—she’d heard from Mama—but that still left tonight to find out what he wanted from her.
If they could perhaps have a future together.
“There, miss,” said Doris, her maid, stepping back. “You do look a treat.”
Her hair had been threaded with pearls and looped at the back of her head. She wore more pearls at her ears and wrists, setting off the deep, lush green of her gown.
“Thank you,” Sarah said, meeting the maid’s eyes in the mirror. “You can go help Charlotte and Jane now.”
“Yes, miss.”
Sarah took one last look in the mirror and turned to leave her bedroom, then made her way to the ballroom.
She found Mama there, overseeing the last preparations.
Hedge House’s ballroom was a long gallery across the back of the house. Tall windows gave a view of the snowy back garden. Night had fallen, but Mama had arranged for tiny lanterns to be lit and hung on the bare branches of the apple trees in the garden.
“It looks like a fairy garden,” Sarah said in awe to her mother as she reached her side.
Mama turned and embraced her, then stepped back. “You’re lovely, my dear.” Mama met her eyes. “I hope you’ll enjoy the dance. I just want you to be happy.”
They’d never discussed Mama’s obvious reasons to invite three bachelors to the Christmas house party.
Sarah smiled, though her lips trembled. “I know.”
“It’s just…” Mama’s mouth twisted with sorrow. “I think life is easier to journey through with a partner.” She squeezed Sarah’s hands. “With a husband. I was so happy when I met your father.”
Sarah felt a pang. Mama didn’t mention Papa often, but she knew the older woman missed him terribly. As they all did. “Mama—”
“You’ve hidden yourself for so long, Sarah,” her mother said gently. “You cannot live properly without risk. If you build so many defenses, trying not to be hurt, you simply wall the world out. Open your walls. Let risk—and life—in.”
“Yes, Mama.” Sarah smiled.
“Ma’am,” one of the footmen called. “The guests are arriving.”
“Oh my.” Mama smoothed down her skirts. “We’d best greet them.”
Sarah and her mother stood by the door, welcoming everyone as they came in. Jane and Charlotte joined them and soon the ballroom was crowded with a laughing, chattering throng. Ropes of evergreens and holly hung in loops from the sparkling chandeliers, and the hired musicians were playing a lively tune.
At one side of the room, long tables were being laid for a midnight feast: Cold cooked turkey and goose, pheasant, and joints of ham. There were jellies in jewel colors and puddings decorated with sprigs of holly. Huge bowls of hot mulled wine and cold punch stood with lines of crystal glasses, waiting to be served. Clove, cinnamon, and ginger scented the air.
Sarah inhaled. It was perfect—at least it was almost perfect.
“May I have this dance?” Adam’s deep voice came from beside her.
She turned and found that he was dressed in a black silk suit worked in gold and red embroidery on the pockets and down the edges of the front. His wig was snowy white and his eyes…
His eyes seemed to promise something.
“Yes,” she breathed, and placed her hand in his.
There had been several country dances, but now they readied for a more sedate, sophisticated dance, standing in line with the other dancers, their joined hands raised.
The music began, and she and Adam paced forward.
“Do you still dislike Christmas?” she murmured to him.
They turned to face each other, and she could feel her heart beating hard as she looked up to meet his gaze.
His beautiful lips quirked. “I find that I’ve come to a new appreciation of the season.”
She couldn’t seem to help the smile spreading across her face. There was something beating wildly in her bosom. A feeling, an emotion she’d never felt before.
They separated, whirling through the dance steps, and then came together again, pacing around each other without touching.
“Will you leave tomorrow?” she asked huskily.
He seemed to search her face. “Perhaps. Much depends on…”
She tipped her face to his. “Depends on what?”
He cursed softly under his breath and took her hand, leading her from the dance floor.
Behind them there were shocked murmurs.
He stopped, glancing around the room, and then headed to the tall glass doors that led to a balcony, pulling her behind him.
Sarah saw her brother frown and start in their direction.
She shook her head frantically at him.
Megs put her hand on Godric’s arm and said something to him.
And then Adam was opening the doors to the balcony and taking her outside.
He shut the doors behind them.
Sarah wrapped her arms about herself. Her ball gown exposed her arms and décolleté, and she was already shivering.
Then Adam dropped to his knees, there on the cold stone of the balcony, and she forgot the temperature.
He looked up at her and said, “Will you do me the honor of marrying me, Sarah St. John?”
She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.
Well, save for the chattering of her teeth.
He frowned. “I know this is too soon, but I want to…” He stopped and inhaled, closing his eyes. “I need to marry you, Sarah. I love you and it’s the most awful thing I’ve ever felt.”