Page 91 of One Night with an Earl

His Ana. His lady.

There was no will or control or anything but her—her mouth, her lips, her tongue. He longed for only one woman and the need she stirred in him, not just physical but deeper, as deep as his heart.

All too soon, pleasure built at the base of his spine. He reached for her. “Ana, stop or I’ll spill.”

She gave him a saucy look. “Why stop?”

God save him. He was helpless beneath her mouth and fingers. He loved the way she treated his body, but he wanted more. “I want you.”

He lifted her on top of him so that her legs straddled him and her hands rested on his chest, then penetrated her with one quick thrust. Her wet, slick heat gripped him. He lifted his mouth to her breast and swirled his tongue around a nipple then sucked it full into his mouth until she writhed on his cock. Perspiration beaded on his brow as he fought for control. He withdrew and drove deep, once, twice was all it took, and she gave a kittenish outcry of delight as she reached her own pleasure. Just before the staggering climax ripped through him, he watched her, head thrown back, lips parted, breast flushed.

He was home.

She collapsed on top of him, and he held her in his arms. Their breaths intermingled and their limbs entwined. His heart thundered, and he pressed a kiss to her forehead. He was loathe to let go of her, as if it would take all his mental and physical strength to release her.

“I’m a changed man.”

“You have changed me as well,” she murmured as she rested her head on his chest above his heart.

For the first time, Oliver imagined a life without a cold loveless marriage. He wanted to stand on the rooftop and shout his feelings, to let everyone know she was his and he was hers. His plans to marry a society heiress, a well-bred lady to live out his days amicably and separately seemed like a cold, empty future. He could never marry and keep Ana ensconced in a townhouse as his mistress. He’d want to spend every moment with her, to wake up beside her each day…for her to bear his children.

Damn his brother for dying. Oliver never wanted the earldom or the expectations of a society match associated with it.

How could he ever let her go?

Chapter Thirty-Four

The house was dark and silent when Oliver’s carriage returned Ana home. She was careful to light only a single candle as she crept upstairs and cracked open her bedchamber door.

Only to find Penelope in her room.

Ana’s hand flew to her chest. “What are you doing here?”

Penelope stood from where she’d been sitting on the side of Ana’s bed. “I couldn’t sleep. I thought to apologize for my behavior during my visit with Lieutenant Smithfield.”

“It’s not necessary.”

Penelope’s jaw tightened. “You’re right. I realize it’s you who should apologize.”

“Pardon?”

“You were with Lord Drake tonight, weren’t you?”

Ana watched her warily. “Penelope, it’s for the best if we do not discuss this.”

She lifted her chin. “I never thought you a hypocrite.”

“Penelope!”

The girl’s shoulders slumped. “I wanted you to be with Lord Drake, and I thought you understood my desires as well. But then you told me it’s for the best that Lieutenant Smithfield leave me.”

“Yes.” It was difficult to say, but Ana knew she must be honest.

“Yet you are free to conduct your amorous affair.” The bitterness in Penelope’s tone was unmistakable.

Ana debated how much to admit. “Tonight was only the second time I went to him.” She couldn’t even say the earl or mention him by name to Penelope. “I have no illusions of marriage whereas you have your life before you.”

Penelope stomped her foot. “I thought you understood!”