“Yes.” Her eyes were tightly closed but she nodded and she still had the hint of a satisfied smile on her gorgeous face.
“I want to make you fly,” he whispered into her ear, his tongue dipping inside the sensitive shell. She bucked beneath him and he pushed his hands to her hips, holding them to the mattress to steady her, readying her for him.
“Let go,” he commanded, and Alex’s hand fell away from his cock. He twined his fingers through hers and pushed her hand high above her head against the mattress, pinning her beneath him. “I’ve dreamed of this for so long,” he breathed, pressing himself into the wet heat of her. “I’ve dreamed—” His words were lost in his own groan as he pushed inside her. Her eyes flew open from shock, and he knew the second he’d breached her maidenhead.
She clenched her jaw, and a small wince appeared on her fine features. He kissed her nose, her eyelids, her cheekbones, her forehead. “Did I hurt you? Are you all right?”
She shifted beneath him. “I think so.”
He didn’t want to laugh, but the scowl on her face was adorable. He kissed the tip of her nose. “I love you,” he murmured, pulling out slowly and pushing back inside. “I love you,” he repeated each time he pulled out and pressed home.
Soon Alex’s head was flitting from side to side on the pillow. Sweat lined her brow. Owen’s hips pumped into her again and again, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from coming too soon. He wanted to make it good for her again. He lowered his hand between them and circled the tiny nub of her pleasure. Her eyes flew open and widened. “I didn’t know we could—”
“We can do anything.” He nipped at her shoulder. His forehead was slick with sweat, and he groaned against the desire to rock into her one last time and lose himself in her. “I want you so much, Alex. Come for me, love. Come for me.” Her hips were rocking, too, of their own accord, matching the rhythm of his hand. Her breath was coming in fitful little spurts and her hand moved up to stroke her own breast, just as he’d taught her.
“That’s right, touch yourself, come for me, Alex.” He moved his head down and sucked her nipple and bit it lightly. She arched off the bed, her thighs squeezing him tightly, his name on her lips.
Owen moved his head back up and kissed her deeply. His tongue plunged into her mouth and owned her. He cradled her face in his hands as his hips pressed into her once, twice, a third time, before he let himself go completely, his orgasm shaking him so badly, he cried out against her mouth and collapsed atop her gorgeous sweat-sheened body.
Moments later, Owen rolled over and pulled her atop him. Her magnificent hair was down around her shoulders, and he leaned up and pulled her neck down so she would meet his mouth. He kissed her again, long and slowly.
“I’ll never get tired of kissing you,” she said when he pulled away, pushing her hair behind her ear.
“I hope you never do. And I’ll never get tired of making love to you.”
She pressed herself to his chest and snuggled her head under his chin. “I hope not, Owen. I know you’re a rake, but—”
He pushed himself up on one elbow and took her chin in his hand. “No. Listen to me. I mean it. I will never give you cause to believe I’ve been unfaithful. I’ve sowed all my wild oats, and I’m quite through with it. What we did here tonight was a first for me, too. We made love. I’m entirely committed to you, Alex. I love you.”
Alex sighed and laid her hand against his heart. “I love you, too, Owen.” She ducked her head and blushed beautifully. “Now, do you think we could do that again?”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Alex couldn’t stop smiling. She smiled at the coachman who drove her back to London. She smiled at the footman who opened the door for her once she and Hannah arrived on her father’s doorstep, and she smiled as she fell asleep that night, knowing that Owen loved her and intended to ask for her hand. In marriage. Marriage. She was going to marry Owen Monroe. And Mother and Father couldn’t possibly object. Not even with Lavinia unmarried. Not after what she and Owen had done.
Late the next morning, Alex was startled awake by a sharp rap on her door.
“Come in,” she called, and was surprised to see Lavinia stroll in. Her sister was wearing a lemon-colored gown with matching ribbons in her hair. She carried part of a newspaper in her hand. It had to be the Society pages. That was the only part of the paper her sister ever showed any interest in.
“Good morning, Lavinia,” Alex called, stretching her arms high above her head. Even her sister’s sour disposition couldn’t spoil her mood today. “What time is it?”