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She guided his cock into her, and he sank in, the sound of her wetness rising above their labored breaths. With a groan, he took one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking hard as he began to thrust in earnest. Ophelia reached for his shoulders, finding corded muscle, feeling him flex as he hammered into her again and again until they were both on the edge. Apollo dragged his lips along her throat to her ear, his breaths hot and uneven, and she clung to him, meeting him thrust for thrust.

He kissed a searing path along her jaw to her lips as they moved together, each chasing a swift release that came ever nearer. Her nails raked down his skin, her inner muscles contracting. Each pass of him inside her made it feel like the pleasure would split her in two. It was so intense, so animalistic, two people taking what they wanted from each other without a thought for the consequences, lost to the need sparking in the air like live electric wires.

“Yes,” she hissed, arching into him as his cock hit her deeply and she lost control.

The rush of her release was so violent that tiny stars speckled her vision. She gasped out a choked sound as bliss exploded inside her. He rode her harshly, his chest flexing, his jaw tensed, arms taut as he braced himself on the bed, moving faster until he threw back his head and came inside her again, her name on his lips as the hot spurt of his seed shot within her.

He collapsed atop her, and when he would have withdrawn, Ophelia wrapped her arms around him, holding him there. Their skins were coated in a faint sheen of perspiration, their bodies joined, and she felt a sudden rush of belonging, of fate.

As if they had always been inevitable.

He rested his head on the pillow next to hers so they faced each other, and he gently traced the backs of his fingers down her cheek. Then he kissed her softly, sweetly, and the last of the resistance within her crumbled to dust.

CHAPTER 13

“Where have you been all afternoon and evening, old chap?”

Living out the desires that had been plaguing him every waking hour for the last eight years. But Apollo had no intention of relaying that to Mal. It sounded mad, even to his own ears.

“Here at Wingfield Hall,” he answered easily as he aimed his cue. “Where else?”

He hit the ball effortlessly and scored his points. Ordinarily, he found billiards after dinner a soothing distraction. But this evening, nothing was sufficiently diverting.

Dinner had been torment. Apollo had been seated what had felt like a world away from Ophelia, and he’d been forced to watch another gentleman flirt with her through the courses. She had flirted back, her mask once more firmly in place.

It was, he was beginning to understand, the means by which she kept herself separate from everyone else. She was playing a role here, one that ill-suited her. She wasn’t a reckless widow seeking indiscriminate pleasure, even if she had been intent upon giving herself to him before she’d known who he was.

That still stung, he could not lie.

But the glory of having Ophelia far surpassed any hurt pride he presently nursed.

“Of course you were here,” Mal said, raising a brow as he commenced with his turn. “But what were you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he pointed out.

He didn’t want to discuss what had happened. It was between Ophelia and him alone.

“I was playing Blindman’s Bluff,” Mal said, taking careful aim. “Which naturally led to a perfectly pleasant afternoon assignation with two most agreeable brunettes.”

Of course his friend would have found two women to pleasure at once. Mal was a rakehell to the marrow. Even worse than Apollo.

“Quite naturally,” he agreed. “No doubt it was an entertaining interlude.”

“It was until it became apparent that the ladies were more interested in each other than in tending to me.” Mal scored his points and straightened to his full height, his gaze searching as it met Apollo’s. “I went looking about for you whilst they indulged.”

“You mean to suggest that you didn’t watch?” he asked, aiming his cue stick and trying to distract his friend from further questions.

“I did for a few seconds,” Mal admitted.

Apollo made his shot. “It isn’t like you to grow weary of two beautiful ladies in flagrante delicto.”

Two more points to add to his tally.

“Yes, well,” his friend drawled, “it’s frightfully dull when one is sporting a cockstand and the ladies aren’t inclined to offer a helping hand or mouth, as it were.”

Mal took aim and missed.

Apollo chuckled. “Your billiards efforts seem to be a metaphor for your interlude earlier. The aim is just a bit off.”