There had to be certainty in this crazed moment, however. There had to be justification. Tom was not the sort of man who went about shagging women against a wall in his friend’s library.
“I am sure,” she said, breathless.
Just the way he wanted her.
He had meant to take his time. But her words broke open something inside him.
He sank into her body in one swift thrust, eased by her desire. She was drenched for him, so slick and hot. Her channel clenched, welcoming him, drawing him deeper. The angle of their union was exquisite. A roar erupted within his head. A conflagration anointed him with decadent fire.
He hooked her leg around his hip, opening her, allowing him to impale her completely. The breath fled her, wafting over his lips like a kiss, as he pinned her to the shelving with his cock. All this waiting, all this time spent remaining celibate, frigging only his own hand…it had been worth it for this.
For her.
He wanted to stay inside her forever. But he also wanted to take her hard and fast and deep. His body was beyond his control now. He was governed by raw, rampant needs. He buried his face in her throat, inhaling, finding the sensitive cord there and biting. All the while, his hips pumped, moving in and out of her with flawless precision. She grew wetter as he moved, and his fingers found the sleek bud of her pearl, playing over her.
It was all she needed to reach her pinnacle. She came on a wild moan, tightening her leg around his hip to draw him to her. As she tightened on him, tremors rocking through her, he lost control himself. It had been too long, and she felt too good.
On a groan, he buried himself deep and spent, pulsing inside her before he could withdraw. Spilling his seed in her. Later, he would worry about the ramifications of his recklessness. For now, he collapsed against Hyacinth, a fine sheen of sweat on his skin, her scent in his nose, her sweet cunny clutching him within as if she would cleave to him forever.
But nothing lasted forever.
Tom knew that better than anyone.
Hyacinth searched for Lottie, attempting not to give in to the growing sense of hysteria within her.
She wandered through the glittering throng of masked revelers, scarcely hearing the din. Although she was making a habit of running from Tom, she felt she could be excused on this occasion. After all, it was not every day that one made love in a stranger’s library.
With a man who had also been a stranger to her, just a few days before.
She scarcely stifled a wild burst of laughter threatening to break free. Not that it would matter. She was masked once more. No one knew her here. Or did they? Well, it hardly mattered. Hyacinth was in no mood to have a care.
Since when had she been so foolish? So reckless?
What had she done?
Tom had been mournful in the moments after their frenzied passion had subsided and reality had returned with the sting of a slap to the cheek. He had withdrawn from her, tucked himself back into his breeches. He had pressed his handkerchief to the juncture of her thighs, removing the traces of his mettle leaking from her core. Hyacinth had stood there, propped against the bookshelf like a broken doll, belatedly taking note of volumes that had somehow crashed to the Axminster in the maelstrom of their union.
She had still clutched her skirts in her fists. The pinched lines of regret on his handsome face had been too much to bear.
There are precautions a lady can take, he had suggested, still blotting her with that monogrammed scrap of linen. To protect against unwanted pregnancy. The intimacy of his gesture had been more familiar, somehow, than their lovemaking had been. No man had ever tended to her thus. Certainly, Southwick had not. Nor had he ever fretted over the vagaries of their marriage bed. He had wanted an heir, and she had proven unable to provide.
I will ask Lottie, she had blurted to Tom, unable to bear a moment more of the discourse between them. Too embarrassed to speak of her inability to produce a child.
She had thanked him after, had she not? Thanked him as if he had done her the grandest of favors. She had dropped her skirts, asked for her mask, and all but run from the library. In her haste to return to the