of people who depended on the earldom for their survival.
Benna had been raised on a great estate; duty and responsibility had been bred into her. She knew that was the same thing Jago would be feeling.
She stared down at him, drinking him in—storing him up like a desert dromedary caching water for the dry time ahead. And that time would come far too soon.
Jago had less than two months to find enough money to pay off the debt he’d mentioned. There was only one way for the people of their class to increase their fortune: they had to marry it.
Benna needed to leave before that happened.
She would leave on Boxing Day; it would be easier to slip away when there were other matters to keep him distracted.
That meant she had him for ten more days.
***
Jago was having the sort of dream where he knew that he was dreaming.
He also knew that the moment he woke up, the exquisite pleasure would recede.
He couldn’t allow that to happen; he was so hard that it would take only a few strokes to ease the ache.
But when he reached for himself, he found a hand already there.
“Wake up, Jago.” The words were hot and damp against this temple.
He opened his eyes and blinked; the blurry room around him seemed to have been painted from a palette containing only shades of gray.
It was just before dawn.
He recalled where he was: in the hunting cottage.
With Benna. And it was Benna’s strong fingers that were stroking him.
His lips curled into a smile and he turned to her. “What a lovely way to wake up,” he said, his voice scratchy with sleep.
She was on her side, wedged between his body and the wall, her head propped up by her palm, her other arm beneath the woolen blanket. In the gray light her features were bleached of color and even starker, her eyes dark with desire.
Jago placed his hand over hers beneath the blanket and stilled her. “You’ll make me spend like a callow youth.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. “Mmm,” he hummed, tonguing the damp, musky skin. “You taste like us.” He kissed her one last time and reluctantly lowered her hand. “I want to talk about—”
“No talking.”
His brows shot up at her soft but emphatic words.
She shook her head, as if he’d spoken. “No talking … Jago.” She tugged her hand away and stroked his belly, her hand already moving south.
Because he was weak—and because he was as eager as she to avoid whatever the future held—he gave in.
Her hand slid around his shaft with a confidence he found wildly arousing; she was as comfortable with his body as he was.
Jago held her gaze while she worked him, thumbing the small slit and then slicking his crown and shaft. Her eyelids became heavy as she pumped him from root to tip, her grip just on the edge of painful. His breathing quickened and his hips snapped with each stroke of her fist.
“Are you too sore to take me again?” he asked in a breathless voice, stilling her hand before she brought him much further.
She shook her head.
“Mount me, Benna.”
Her nostrils flared and she didn’t hesitate to obey.
Once she was astride him Jago reveled in the sight of her. She was lean-hipped and sinuous, her shoulders, while delicate, were as broad as a man’s. And her legs—
“I adore your thighs,” Jago muttered, worshipfully stroking said appendages with both hands.
She rose high on her knees, the action sending muscles flexing in her legs, hips, and belly.
Jago stared like a love-struck boy as she placed him at her entrance and proceeded to take him into her body inch by inch with a deliberation that caused them both to hiss.
She didn’t stop until he was buried as deeply as he could go, and then she tightened around him like a silken vise.
“Benna!” The word was a hoarse shout and Jago’s hips bucked off the bed.
A wicked grin transformed her from stern seductress into gleeful ingenue.
“You devil,” he said through clenched teeth, grabbing her hips and holding her still. “You brought me too close while I was sleeping, I need a moment to—”
She laughed and ground her pelvis against him, massaging him with her inner muscles.
Jago lifted her bodily, his biceps burning as he raised her up until only his crown breached her.
And then he pulsed his hips in teasing thrusts.
It was her turn to groan. She squirmed in his grasp and it was all he