His tongue stroked her intimately. Still resting up on her elbows, with a sharp intake of breath and a low moan, she dropped back her head. Another stroke, a swirl, and she turned her attention back to watching him, only to discover that he was watching her. Intently. As though each of her sighs was a catalyst for his own pleasure.

“Touch your breasts,” he said against the sensitive flesh.

And she did, skimming her thumbs over her hardened nipples, taking pleasure in his gaze darkening. He was caught between her thighs, and she was rather certain she’d felt him tense with her actions. Cupping his large hands beneath her bottom, he lifted her slightly and began to feast in earnest.

Winding her legs around him, their gazes locked, she held him in place while pleasure spiked. Oh, the wondrous sensations he caused to spiral through her. Instinctually, she knew no other would make her feel as he did: powerful, beautiful, magnificent. With him, she was everything she’d ever hoped to be, experienced all she’d ever longed to know. It wasn’t only the physical, although God help her, she’d have been content with that and that alone. It was the manner in which he made her feel appreciated, treasured, capable. Comfortable within her own skin.

He accepted her fully as she was. With him, she didn’t need a title, a ladyship. It was enough that she ran her bookshop and taught others how to read. With him, she didn’t have to put on airs or select the proper utensil for whatever delicacy had been placed upon her plate. For him, she could spread her thighs and let him have his way with her.

And what a wonderful way it was. Taking in the entire glorious length of him, his bare back, buttocks, and legs only heightened her own pleasure. Removing one hand from her breast, she threaded her fingers through his hair, circling them over his scalp. She had an urge to close her eyes, to do nothing but feel, but didn’t want to give up one moment of gazing on him, wanted memories of every aspect of their lovemaking. She would remember these bittersweet moments until she drew her last breath.

Then the pleasure increased, became a vortex of sensations swirling within her, tightening every muscle, collapsing until she was aware of little except his mouth working its magic, as though the little bud was a toffee he was savoring with licks, strokes, sucks. Her other hand was suddenly also in his hair, holding him there as her legs tightened their hold, as her thighs trembled.

“Oh God. Oh God.” The climax ripped through her, untethering her from the world around her until she was soaring, falling into the depths of his gaze until she was lost—and then found.