8. Chapter 8 #2
She lifted her head and kissed him. Slow this time. Her mouth moved against his with a patience that undid him. His hands traced the curve of her waist, her hip, the dip at the small of her back, and she pressed closer until there was no space left between their bodies.
Her hand trailed down his chest, his stomach, and wrapped around his cock. He was hard—had been since she'd walked through the door—and her touch drew a groan from him. She stroked him with a gentleness that drove him mad, her thumb circling the head, her eyes on his face.
He caught her wrist. Not to stop her. To slow everything down.
“You are going to do me in, sweetheart.”
She released him and brought her hand to his face. Her thumb traced his lower lip, and he pressed a kiss against it.
He rolled her onto her back and settled over her.
The firelight caught the lines of her body—her breasts, the flat of her stomach, the spread of her thighs as she opened for him.
He'd seen her naked before. He'd touched every part of her. But this was different, because she was going to be his forever. He hadn’t exactly asked her yet, but he would.
And she would be his. If Dunblane thought to put his hands on what was his again, the man would find himself with only stumps where they used to be.
He kissed her collarbone. The hollow of her throat. The space between her breasts. She arched into him. Her fingers threaded through his hair, and the sound she made was quiet and open. He could feel her heart hammering against his mouth.
He took his time with her breasts, his tongue circling one nipple while his thumb traced the other. Her back lifted off the mattress, and her hands tightened in his hair as she whispered his name. The sound of it made him want to give her everything he had.
His hand slid between her thighs. She was wet and warm. When his fingers found her clit, she gasped and her hips rocked against his hand. He stroked her in slow circles, watching her face, adjusting his attention between touches that made her breath catch and ones that made her eyes flutter shut.
He slid two fingers inside her and she moaned. Her hand came down to grip his wrist—not to guide him, just to hold on. Her body clenched around his fingers, and her breathing went ragged. He could feel her getting close.
“I want you,” she breathed. “I need you inside me. Make me yours, Louis.”
“You were already mine, sweetheart.”
He withdrew his fingers and positioned himself between her thighs. She reached for him, her hand wrapping around his cock and guiding him to her entrance. He pushed inside her with a slowness that let him feel every inch.
Her breath left her in a shudder. His forehead dropped against hers. He held still, fully seated inside her, their breath mingling. The feeling of her around him—hot, tight, her body gripping him—was so overwhelming that he almost closed his eyes.
“Look at me, Georgie.”
She opened her eyes. They were wet, but fierce. She held his gaze and he held hers. This was the thing he'd been afraid of his entire life. Knowing that every piece of him now belonged to someone else. He was hers as much as she was his.
He moved with slow, deep strokes that drew a sound from her, a sound he wanted to hear for the rest of his life. Her legs came up around his waist—not pulling him harder, just holding him close—and her hands found his face. She kissed him while he moved inside her.
Her hips rose to meet his and they moved together. Every stroke was unhurried and every breath was shared.
“I love you.” He stilled inside her. He said it while they were joined and looking at each other with nothing left to hide. “I love you, Georgie.”
“I love you.” She said it back, and her voice didn't shake.
He moved again. Deeper, faster now, the intensity building. Her hand slid between them and her fingers found her clit. He watched her touch herself while he drove into her—her eyes holding his, her parted lips, the pleasure written on her beautiful face.
Everything inside him went wild with possession. He grabbed her wrist, brought her fingers to his lips, and sucked the taste of her off of them. Growling, he released her hand, and replaced it with his own to tease her opening while he took her harder.
“Louis—” Her body tightened around him, her back arching, and she came with her eyes open and his name on her lips. Every pulse of her gripped his cock.
He started to pull out, knowing he wouldn’t last.
Her legs tightened around his waist. “You don’t have to . . . I want to feel you. Inside me, I mean.”
He buried himself deep inside her and came with a groan that tore through his chest. His body shuddered against hers, and he spilled into her while she held him, her eyes still locked on his.
Louis stayed inside her while they both fought to catch their breath.
His forehead rested against hers. Neither of them moved.
The rain hammered the roof and the fire crackled, providing a background to their heavy breathing.
Her body was warm beneath his, and he could feel her heart beating against his chest.
After a while he withdrew and settled beside her, pulling the blanket over both of them. She turned into him and pressed her face against his chest. His arms came around her and he held her.
“What happens now?” she asked.
“Now we go back to Greystone and I deal with Dunblane.”
“Louis—”
“I'm not going to kill him.” He paused. “Probably. But he put his hands on you and threatened you. He is not going to do either of those things again.”
She was quiet for a moment. “Max will find out. About us. About everything.”
“He has to.” He tightened his arms around her.
“Because he’s going to accept that I’m marrying you.
Whatever he wants to say to me, whatever he needs to do, I'll take it. Because as long as you’ll have me, Georgie, you're mine and I'm yours. I’ll get a special license as soon as possible. Please tell me you’ll marry me, Georgie. ”
He kissed her forehead. Then her nose. Then her mouth, soft and slow.
Georgie’s eyelids fluttered as she met his gaze. “Of course I will.”
And his heart soared.