“Camille,” he murmured; then started to stroke, forcing himself to a slow, steady pace. She rocked her hips against him, urging him on, faster, harder. He groaned and responded, losing himself in the feel of her. He thrust into her with a frenzied need and she responded in kind. The bed rocked beneath them, and she whimpered or moaned erotic murmurs, which only heightened his need. She met his thrusts with hers until, at last, she screamed softly and arched upward. Her body shuddered against him. Her release swept from her body into his. He groaned and thrust once more and exploded into her, shaking hard in an endless moment of pure sensation and joy. In his body and in his soul.

At long last, he was home.

For a moment, or an hour, or eternity, they lay together, hearts beating in rhythm, breath coming in tandem. As if they were still one. At last being with Grayson was so much more than she had imagined, so much more than she had thought possible.

“Good God.” Camille buried her head in his shoulder. “What have we done?”

He chuckled. “I think you know exactly what we’ve done.”

“Grayson, I am not my sister.”

“Thank God.”

She sat up, plumped the pillow behind her and pulled the covers up around her. She hadn’t felt the least bit embarrassed earlier when she was completely naked in front of him, but that was during the throes of passion. And dear Lord, she had never known such throes before. Harold had been a gentle and considerate lover, and making love with him had been most pleasant. But tonight with Grayson, well, she had never dreamed of the intensity and the sheer pleasure and the joy.

“Beryl has never had any difficulty bounding from one bed to another. At least, until recently. This is one area in which I have never given into impulse, never found anyone I wanted to . . . I have not—well, I have not, that’s all.”

“I’m glad.” He rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow.

“I’ve only ever been with one other man.”

“Good,” he said firmly. “I would hate to think you were a tart as well as a fortune hunter.”

“Grayson!”

“And you’re not bounding from one bed to another now.” He grinned. “Although I would rather like to see you bound.”

She shivered at his words. “You are a wicked, wicked man, aren’t you?”

He grinned.

She narrowed her eyes. “I daresay, you have not been celibate these past eleven years.”

“Should I lie to you and tell you I have thought only of you?”

“I suppose not.”

“And yet it’s true.” He smiled into her eyes. “Of course I have been with other women, but no one has touched my heart the way you have.”

“I didn’t realize it was your heart that I was touching.”