And then he pounded into her. Three hard, wild thrusts, before he pulled from her. He groaned as his seed shot from him, coating her belly. “Fucking. Holy. Hell.”
They both stilled, panting. He rested on one elbow, bracing himself above her, and she felt his breath on her face. She still could not shape anything resembling thought, and so she drifted on amber-hued swells of fading pleasure. Her limbs seemed incapable of movement. This was where she belonged. Her eyes closed as peace settled over her.
After many moments, he shifted and rose up. She didn’t open her eyes, but murmured her thanks when he wiped a piece of fabric over her stomach, cleaning her. With the same tender care, he tugged her nightgown down so she was covered.
“Did I please you?” he whispered at her ear.
“Please is too mild a word. I think . . . I think I’ve ascended to another level of existence.”
He chuckled softly. “That makes me happy. But something does not make me happy.”
She opened her eyes to see him standing, bare chested but his breeches fastened, with his hands on his hips. Frowning, she lifted herself up to sit on the table. “What is it?”
“You came down here for something to eat, and I went ahead and fucked you before I fed you.”
“Firstly,” she said, “you didn’t fuck. We fucked.”
He inclined his head. “And secondly?”
She smiled. “We’re still in the larder.”
“Such wisdom.” He took a plate down from the wall.
“When it comes to knowing where the food is, I’m most assuredly wise.” Her lips twitched when he laughed. But when she moved to assist him in collecting a few items to eat, he held up his hand. “At least let me clean up the mess we created.”
She eyed the pieces of the fallen platter and potatoes that had scattered across the floor.
“Very well,” he said with reluctance.
As she collected the shattered china and bits of potato, he put food on the plate. The domestic scene felt quiet and comfortable—despite, or perhaps because of, the fact that they’d just had the most intense sex of her life not minutes before.
Once she’d tidied up and set the pieces of the platter on a shelf, she turned to find Noel waiting with a food-laden plate. There were pieces of meat, and a hunk of cheese, some bread, an orange, and, blissfully, a whole fruit tart.
In companionable silence, they ate from the same plate.
“Do you . . .” She swallowed. “Have you done that often?”
“A man shouldn’t boast of the number of his sexual encounters.” His lips quirked, a touch of self-deprecation in his smile. “I did, however, have a relatively early start to the practice.”
“I was the lucky recipient of all that practice. But what I meant was, do you often act submissively with your lovers?”
“Ah.” He glanced away, and she wondered if she’d gone too far, pushed him in a way that made him uncomfortable. Yet before she could apologize, he looked back at her and said in a low voice, “Never. Not before you.”
She lost her breath. That he’d given her such trust humbled and overwhelmed her. Only with her had he been so vulnerable. He—who held the nation’s power in his very hands, whose words shaped destinies large and small—gave her the gift of his submission. Because he trusted her.
She didn’t deserve his trust. Not by a league.
“Thank you,” she said softly. She cupped his jaw with her hand. His morning shave had been long ago, and his stubble lightly abraded her palm. He was so potently masculine. She loved the contrast between them, but they were also alike, because she had strength, too. They complemented each other in ways she never would have anticipated.
How unexpected he had been, and how incredible that she became herself so fully when they were together. This was what she’d desired without knowing it, who she wanted to be, and who she needed at her side. Fearlessly, he showed her the way to the powerful woman within her, celebrating that woman and permitting her to do the same.
An invisible bond anchored them to each other, something she’d never felt before, not with anyone, not even Oliver. The rightness of it stole her breath.
Oh, God. No.
Chapter 20
“You’ve got no goddamned business looking so cheerful at this hour,” McCameron grumbled from the sideboard as Noel sauntered into the dining room for breakfast.
Noel heaped crisp streaky bacon on his plate. He was ravenous. “It’s my sodding house, so