But the most amazing thing was that he was kissing her. Really kissing her, in that deep, dark way he hadn't since before the accident. Oh, he'd written racy things in his lists, but he'd been treating her like a delicate flower. Now he was kissing her with his entire body—with his hands, which had already discovered the side slit of her lingerie and were wrapped around the warm curve of her thigh—with his hips, which pressed intimately against hers—and with his heart, which pounded a seductive beat against her breast.

“Don't stop,” Ellie moaned. “Don't ever stop.”

“I couldn't if I wanted to,” he replied, touching her ear most thoroughly—with his mouth. “And I don't. Want to.”

“Oh, good.” Her head lolled back, and he immediately moved from her ear to her throat.

“This dress,” he groaned, apparently unable to speak in complete sentences. “Don't ever lose it.”

She smiled. “You like it?”

He answered by pulling open the bows at her hips. “It should be illegal.”

“I can get one in every color,” she teased.

His hands grasped her ribcage, his large fingers pressing into the underside of her breasts. “Do it. Send me the bill. Or better yet, I'll pay in advance.”

“I paid for this one,” Ellie said softly.

Charles held still and lifted his head, sensing something different in her voice. “Why? You know you can use my money to buy whatever you want.”

“I know. But this is my birthday gift to you.”

“The dress?”

She smiled and touched his cheek. Men could be so obtuse. “The dress. Me.” She took his hand and moved it to her heart. “This. I want ours to be a real marriage.”

He didn't say anything, just took her face in his hands and gazed rapturously at her for a long moment. Then, with agonizing slowness, he lowered his lips to hers for a kiss more tender than anything she could have ever dreamed. “Ah, Ellie,” he sighed against her mouth. “You make me so happy.”

It wasn't quite a declaration of love, but it still made her heart sing. “I'm happy, too,” she whispered.

“Mmmm.” He moved to her neck, nuzzling the length of her throat with his face. His hands slid underneath the silk of her gown, trailing fire along her already hot skin. She felt his touch on her hips, her stomach, her breasts—he seemed to be everywhere, and still she wanted more.

She fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, wanting desperately to feel the heat of his skin. But she was shaking with desire, and her hands were still not as nimble as normal.

“Shhhh, let me,” he whispered, lifting himself off her to remove his shirt. He worked the buttons slowly, and Ellie wasn't sure whether she wanted him to go even more slowly, to prolong this tantalizing dance, or whether she wanted him just to rip the damned thing off and move back to her side.

Finally he shrugged off the garment and lowered himself partway back down toward her, leaning on his straightened arms. “Touch me,” he ordered, then softened it with an impassioned, “Please.”