A Night to Surrender (Spindle Cove #1)(78)
Author: Tessa Dare

“I know, love. I know it well.” He brushed the stray hair from her face. “It was always the same with me.”

She rubbed her face with her hands. “He promised me, Bram. He promised me so many things, and I was such a fool to believe. He told me he’d look after himself, stop causing me so much worry. And now this cannon business.” A bittersweet laugh broke through her tears. “He told me once, long ago, that Rycliff Castle was mine. Did you know that? It was my prize, he said. My reward for recovering. He encouraged me to store all my hopes and dreams there, and then . . .” She reached for the flask and took another nip of whiskey, swallowing with a grimace. “And then one afternoon, he just gave it away.” Her tearful eyes met his. “To you.”

“I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s nothing. Only a girl’s foolishness. But I’m a foolish girl, it seems.” She sniffed and laid her head to his chest. “He promised me I’d be safe, that summer in Norfolk. That time spent there would be . . .” Her voice pinched. “Would be good for me. Now I know, he just wanted me out of the way. You heard him earlier. How he said I’m always becoming overwrought, holding him back. That summer, I must have proved too difficult to ignore.”

“Hush, love. Hush.” He pressed a kiss to her crown. “Don’t distress yourself so.”

Her fingers curled around his lapel. “And all this might be somehow bearable, if I had you. But now you’re leaving. Tuesday. I don’t know how I’ll survive it. I love you so much.”

Just like that, his heart danced a nimble little waltz in his chest.

She loved him.

She’d said as much inside the house. Four times, if he recalled correctly. But with every repetition, she only heaped more joy atop joy. He was well and truly wallowing in it now.

“Please don’t go,” she whispered, clutching his coat. “Don’t leave me.”

Her eyes held so much heartrending doubt. As if he would be the second man today to destroy her trust. He didn’t know that he could find the words to convince her otherwise, so he answered with a kiss instead. He lowered his lips to hers, meaning to give her a chaste, reassuring peck.

But she had other ideas.

Her lips parted beneath his, inviting and lush. Drawing him in. Welcoming him home.

God. Yes. That first taste of her, after long days of separation, sent lightning forking through his body. A low groan rumbled from his throat.

They kissed hungrily, trading light nips and deep passes of their tongues. Susanna came alive in his arms, seized by some kind of sensual frenzy. She clutched his shoulders. Pushed aside his lapels to rub her br**sts against his homespun-clad chest. Speared her fingers through his thick, cropped hair and twisted in his lap, driving their kiss deeper still.

Perhaps it was that small taste of whiskey—but in all their previous encounters, he’d never known her to be this aggressive. Her hands were bold. Her lips and tongue made demands.

Bram found he rather liked it. He liked it a great deal.

“Don’t leave me,” she urged, licking over his pulse. “Hold me, close and tight. Promise you’ll never let go.”

“Never.” He slid one hand to her backside and pulled, hiking her higher onto his lap. But it wasn’t enough. With one hand, she gathered and lifted the folds of her skirts. They made a sensuous rustle as she pushed up on her knees and moved to straddle him on the bench.

He slid a hand up her thigh. She was bare beneath her petticoats. Bare, and already wet for him. Their moans mingled as he explored her dewy cleft with his fingertips, finding and circling her swollen pearl. Her feminine spice mingled with the scent of roses, filling the air with an intoxicating, arousing perfume.

Her hand flew to the closures of his breeches front. She adjusted her weight, giving herself space to work the buttons free. The shift in her pose thrust her bosom in his face. Bending his head, he nuzzled the soft pillows of her br**sts, greedily thrusting his tongue into the dark, fragrant valley between them.

As he kissed and licked the luscious curves, a needy whimper eased from her throat. “I need you,” she said, reaching through the unbuttoned flap to stroke his aroused flesh. “I need you now.”

She didn’t need to ask twice. He worked his c**k through the layers of buckskin and fabric, positioning the engorged, eager tip just at the entrance to bliss.

She lowered herself a fraction of an inch, then backed off—her slick heat lapping at the crown of his erection. He thought he would lose his mind, but he forced himself to be patient for a moment more, allowing his head to fall back so he could drink in the sight of her. The coils and wisps of her molten bronze hair, tumbling loose around her pale shoulders. Those full, berry-stained lips, swollen with his kisses. The flush of passion on her face. So beautiful, she made his heart twist.

He guided her hips, until she settled in just the right spot. And then he helped her sink by slow degrees. Inch by delicious inch. Until molten bliss enveloped him, all the way to the root.

They stayed that way for a long moment, each of them panting for breath, resisting the desire to move.

When the desire to move became an imperative, she rolled her hips. Slowly at first, but quickly accelerating to a brisk, urgent rhythm. He helped with his hands, clutching her backside tight and lifting, lowering . . . sliding her over his rigid length again and again. Faster, harder. Until their bodies met with resounding, erotic smacks of skin against skin.

Her brow fell to his shoulder. He could tell from the helpless whimpers of pleasure rising from her throat, she was close to the edge. He was already dangling over the edge, clinging to it by his gritted teeth. Pleasure buzzed up and down his spine, desperate for an outlet.

Hold out, he told himself. Just a minute more.

He needed to feel her body convulse around him, hear the cries she made when the pleasure hit. His pleasure would be meaningless without hers.

Knowing full well it would shred the last remnants of his control, he arched his hips for deeper penetration and quickened his thrusts. Her breath came hot and fast against his ear. Her nails bit into the soft flesh of his nape, and her br**sts galloped against his chest. He was losing his battle for restraint, careening full-speed toward what was sure to be the most devastating pleasure of his life.

“Love, I can’t hold back.”

“Stay,” she said. “Stay with me.”

“Come,” he forced through gritted teeth. “Come with me.”