“Yes! More, more, more, more—”
He silenced her with a tender kiss, and his hips began to move in slow, gentle, thrusts. A sensation that hadn’t been there the first time built in her gradually, quickly surpassing anything she’d ever felt before as he drove into her harder, more urgently, until some happened, until something exploded inside her and a wave of rapture overwhelmed her senses.
She hadn’t realized she’d cried out until Simon silenced her with a kiss, his own roar of bliss muted by her lips.
“Bloody hell,” Simon muttered as he collapsed beside her, his rapid breathing matching that her own.
Her sentiments exactly.
Still dazed, Belle reeled in the aftermath of how Simon had dominated her body. She felt enchanted by the sudden tenderness that stole over her, making her want to kiss him, thank him, hold him and murmur sweet words into his ear.
She didn’t, of course.
Instead, she settled comfortably into the cradle of his arm, content to savor this moment and commit every little detail, every tiny prickle of pleasure to her memory.
Much later, which turned out to be not so much later, after all, Belle was woken by soft kisses to her brow, her nose, her cheek and, finally, her lips.
Her eyes fluttered open to the image of Simon grinning down at her. She felt her own lips stretch into a smile and she tried not to mull over the notion of how waking up to this, to him, every day would be quite splendid.
“As much as I hate to leave this bed, we have guests arriving soon.”
We?
Guests?
At her confused expression, he continued, “Your brothers’ return is not something we can keep from them.”
That snapped her out of her euphoria.
“You gathered everyone here, without discussing it with me first?”
Her tone had him frowning. “I thought sooner would be better than later.”
“That is not the point,” Belle snapped, tossing the covers aside before snatching them back again, covering her exposed flesh with a blush.
“What is the point then?”
The way he said it, so calm and patient, his brow rising at her attempt to conceal her body, only served to irritate her more.
What was the point again? Oh yes, it wasn’t so much that he called a meeting, which she would have done, but the fact that he’d taken the liberty to call the meeting on her behalf. One night of passion did not constitute the dominion of her life.
“The point,” Belle furrowed her brow and scrambled from the bed, taking the covers with her, “is that any number of servants can witness our gathering and…” she trailed off, uncertain at what exactly she was getting at. Her servants were most discreet. But then again, she would not put it passed a spy to insert a spy in her household. “What if—”
“We are gathering in the garden for a small tea party. That is all they will see.”
A tea party?
It was Belle’s turn to raise a brow.
Simon shrugged. “It’s a beautiful day to host a tea party and the garden provides more privacy to talk freely.”
“Fine,” Belle relented, if only to make him leave her room. “Now if you’ll please, I need to dress.”
“I can always help you—”
“No!”
He held up his hands in defeat but was grinning again, tugging up his breeches. “I’ll go, but first,” he said, his gaze intensifying, “will you marry me?”