He blew gently on her heated skin again. “I love the w-way you taste,” he said, licking slowly up and down.

He’d never thought to tell her that before until the book. She reacted as he hoped. She hooked a leg over his shoulder. “You do?” she whimpered.

“I could kiss you and feast on you all day, Thea,” he growled.

Her hips lifted, seeking his mouth again. This time when he lowered his lips to her clit, he worked two fingers inside her. Pumped them in and out in time with his tongue.

Thea bucked. Her hips pumped against his face. Her hands were in his hair.

He increased the pace to match hers.

Her thighs began to tremble.

Her moans became whimpers.

Her pleasure built until she was writhing. Writhing. And it was the hottest fucking thing he’d ever seen. A wave of tenderness washed over him as potent as the lust surging through his veins. She was his wife. The love of his life. And for three years, he had failed to make her feel this way. To make her feel safe enough to be open to feeling this way. He had failed her so many ways, so many times. He wasn’t failing her again.

“Gav . . .” She couldn’t say his name. She was so close.

“Yes. Yes, oh, God.”

Her fingers dug into his scalp, and she wrenched her head back with a cry. Her body shook. Her intimate muscles clenched and pulsed around his fingers. Her hips lifted into his face for one last grind against his mouth.

And then she went limp. Her throat cry faded into a soft grunt, another whimper, another oh, God.

Holy shit. He’d done it.

He’d made his wife come.

Holy shit.

She came.

From Gavin’s hands and mouth alone. Thea’s legs went lax on his shoulders as she came back to her senses. “Gavin,” she whispered.

He kissed a path up her stomach. “Talk to me,” he said, voice shaking.

“I want you inside me.”

He didn’t bother shedding the rest of his clothes. Gavin shoved his pants and briefs down and leaned over her. The urgent press of his erection against her still-throbbing vagina sent her hips off the bed in search of the pleasure again.

“Tell me what you want,” he said. “Say the w-words. Say exactly wh-what you want me to do to you.”

“I want you inside me,” she said again.

“Tell me more,” he panted, pressing just the tip of himself inside her.

She lifted her mouth to his ear. “I want you to make me come again.”

Gavin thrust inside her. Fully. Deeply. He buried his erection inside her body, sending a cry of bliss from her mouth.

Thea wrapped her legs around his waist. “I want you fuck me, Gavin,” she groaned, and holy shit, that was the hottest fucking thing his wife had ever said.

She clung to him. “I want you hard and fast.”

He obeyed. He rose on his elbows and set a pace that made her forget how to speak after that. His biceps bulged and strained on either side of her head. Sweat dripped from his body to hers.

She came so suddenly that he wasn’t prepared for it, could do nothing but hold still as she dug her fingernails into his back, until he could hold on no longer and he followed her over the cliff, thrusting one last time with a shudder, a grunt, and the hoarse whisper of her name.

Her muscles turned to noodles, and she went limp beneath him, her hands slipping from his sweat-slicked back to the comforter beneath them. Gavin fell heavy on top of her, every last ounce of strength in his body vacated with his release. Twice. He’d made his wife come twice. He could win the World Series five times in a row, and it wouldn’t feel as good as that.

“Gavin,” she said, turning to press her lips to the side of his head. “Guess what?”

He mumbled a response, his face pressed to the bed.

“I didn’t fake it.”

Gavin lifted his face and kissed her. “Guess what?” he murmured when he pulled away.

“Mmm?”

“Neither did I.”

* * *

• • •

Thea laughed. Gavin rolled over on the bed and pulled her with him until her naked body lay draped across his bare chest. He wrapped an arm around her waist to hold her secure and then curled the other up around her head, holding her there, cradling her.

His stomach rumbled. Thea ran her fingers down his abdomen. “Hungry?”

“Always,” he said.

“You want room service?”

“Are you on the menu?”

Thea laughed again. “I’ll get the menu.”

His arms tightened around her. “I’ll get it. You stay in bed and do not take those shoes off.”

“Oh, you like the shoes?”

He rolled them again in one strong move until she was once again beneath his body. He peeled himself off her with a line of kisses down her throat, her chest—stopping to pluck at each nipple with his lips—and farther still to her belly button.

Then he stood with a groan. “Be right back.”

After he left, Thea rose and dug into her bag for his jersey. She pulled it on over her naked body and—

“Jesus Christ, are you trying to kill me?”

She bit her lip and turned around. “You like this?”

“Better than any lingerie on the planet.”

She tugged at the hem of the shirt. “Really?”

“You want to see what’s happening in my pants right now?”

“Yes,” she said, breathless as an erotic thrill shot through her. Where had this confident, dirty-talking man come from?

Gavin dropped the menu and stalked to where she stood. Grabbing her hand, he tugged and settled it over the growing bulge.

“I d-didn’t even know it was humanly possible to get hard again this fast, Thea.”

She licked her lips. “Then we definitely shouldn’t waste it.”

“Definitely not.” He hooked an arm around her waist, dragged her backward toward the bed, and freed his erection.

He sat, pulling her with him until she straddled his lap. With a single thrust, he was inside her again. At the intense pleasure, something took hold of them both, something primal, fierce, unrestrained. Thea burned with a fire she’d never felt before.

His hands slid down to palm her butt cheeks, squeezing and kneading and holding them steady as she used her knees on the bed to lift and lower in an erotic rhythm. She gripped his shoulders, dug her fingers into his skin, and rocked against the hard length of him. His thick, calloused fingers brushed the underside of her breasts and then higher still until her pebbled nipples strained beneath his hurried exploration.

When she looked down, her hands on his shoulders, he met her gaze with a hungry, possessive fire.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he rasped. Then he tore open her jersey, sending buttons flying, and leaned forward. He took one hard nipple into his mouth. Thea let out a cry and tilted her head back, her hands threading in his hair to hold him there. He lavished each breast with attention, sucking and licking until the pressure between her thighs became unbearable.

Thea lowered back down on his erection. He wrapped his arms around her and they clung to each other, moving and groaning. Thea widened her legs to go deeper, to thrust against the hard walls of his stomach.

The deep, guttural sounds he made filled her with an erotic satisfaction that she never knew she possessed.

“Fuck, Thea,” he groaned, grinding against her. His hands dug into her ass. And then he spanked her.

Holy shit.

Thea froze and looked down at him. “Did you just spank me?”

“Uh, did, um, did you like it?”

“I think so. Maybe, maybe you should do it again to be sure.”

Gavin said something that sounded like holy muddy-mottled wagtail, which was weird, but she would have to figure it out later, because his hand spanked her again.

“Oh, God, yes.” He did it again. “Yes, I like it.”

Her body exploded in color and sensation, and as she rode it out, he joined her until he fell back against the bed with a surprised look on his face.

She laughed as she gazed down at him. “I’ve come three times, and you haven’t even taken your pants off.”

“Honey,” he panted. “We’re just getting started. I have three years to make up for.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

He made up for it.

Once more in bed.

Once on the floor in the outer room after finally ordering room service.

At three o’clock, when she woke up from an exhausted slumber to the feel of his hands on her breasts.

At six o’clock, when she woke him with her hand on his morning surprise.

After that one, they slept like the dead.

When she woke up next, she found him staring at her from his pillow, a tender look in his eyes and a sweet smile on his lips. He reached over and brushed the hair from her face. “Morning,” he whispered.

“Hi.” She yawned. “What time is it?”

“A little after ten.”

She mmm’d in disappointment. “We have to check out soon.”

“I know.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I was thinking that maybe after we pick up the girls, we could stop and get our Christmas tree.”

“We could decorate and make hot cocoa.”

“Let the girls watch a movie.”

She kissed him softly. His forehead rested on hers. “I’m afraid to leave this bed.”

Warmth spread through her chest. She hated to leave this bed too, but she looked forward to what came next. “Our bed at home is better.”

He covered her mouth and kissed her senseless. A little while later, she snuggled, warm and sated, into the crook of his arm. “Let’s go home, Gavin.”

Courting the Countess

Irena was right. Balls were a horrid, stuffy affair. And not just for all the reasons she disliked them, but because society’s rules for some bizarre reason prohibited a husband and wife from dancing with each other more than once.

Benedict wanted her in his arms. Now. Always. Everything had changed since the night he finally opened up to her. Her innocent touch and hesitant kiss had lit a fire, and though he would have been willing to wait longer, she consummated their marriage at long last. Making love to his wife was so transcendent an experience that he resented the very appearance of the sun every morning.