A Royal Kiss and Tell

“God, woman, you drive me to madness,” he said. “Be still now. Be easy,” he whispered.

She couldn’t be easy. She could be anything but easy. She closed her eyes, dug her fingers into his neck and chest, and allowed herself to sink into the pleasure he was giving her. His fingers slid deep inside her and back again in primal rhythm, as he moved his mouth over her cheek, her lips, her eyes, gliding so lightly that her skin simmered to the point she could scarcely endure even the whisper of his kiss. When he dipped his head to her exposed breast again, she felt herself sliding off a cliff and falling through space.

She knew he fumbled with his clothing. She gasped when he guided her to touch him. But nothing compared to the moment he slid the tip against her dampness. She was lost. It was pain, it was pleasure. It was a sensation beyond anything she’d ever known.

Leo dragged her hand up above her head and held it, then kissed her tenderly as he began to slowly, carefully, push himself inside her.

Desire and love intermingled and began to drum in her. She was inflamed by this intimacy, and despite a bit of discomfort, she would do this again and again with him. But as he moved deeper, pressing up against her maidenhead, she realized how profound this was, this moment in her life, with this man. She would never again feel so deeply for someone. Never in her life would she experience something so remarkable.

“Draw a breath,” he whispered, and as Caroline drew it, he pushed past her maidenhead. Her body tensed to absorb the discomfort, but then something remarkable began to happen—she could feel her body adapting to his.

He stroked her face, kissed her lips and began to move in her. He was whispering encouragement to her, but at some point, he stopped speaking. His breath deepened and he moved with more deliberation. Caroline began to move with him. It was as if her body knew what to do, how to reach the end with him, and all she had to do was ride along.

Her body raced toward release, her heart pounding in her chest. And then he put his hand between her legs and began to stroke her in time with the movement of his body. A moment later, her release poured out of her.

His followed—he pulled himself free of her at the last possible moment, then collapsed on top of her.

Caroline softly pressed her lips to his neck, her hand to his chest. She was speechless. She couldn’t imagine this with another man. She couldn’t imagine this with anyone but Leopold.

Which presented a bit of a problem, but one that Caroline would think about tomorrow. At present, she wanted only to revel in the feel of this man’s body with hers.

“I love you,” he said against her shoulder. “I need you to know it.” He lifted his head. “I love you, Caroline Hawke. And no matter what happens, I always will.”

It was too dark for him to see the tears in her eyes. “I love you, Leopold. I do, so desperately.”

They held each other for a very long time. But eventually, Leopold stood. He took a handkerchief and cleaned them both, then fastened his clothing. Her hair had come undone, and her beautiful gown was wrinkled and the overskirt torn in one place. She hardly cared.

He helped her up from the settee, then wrapped her in a warm embrace. “Caroline, I...” His voice trailed away, as if words had failed him.

“I know,” she whispered. She didn’t want to hear him say he had to go. She didn’t want to be reminded that they were hurtling toward the time he would leave her forever.

He kissed her cheek. Her mouth. Her hand. He kissed her lips and lingered...and then walked to the door. He looked over his shoulder, his gaze sweeping over her before locking on her eyes. She felt not of this earth. The candle had almost burned out, and he was in the shadows, like a dream. Her summer dream.

Caroline stood in the very spot he’d left her long after he’d gone. She couldn’t seem to make her feet move. She couldn’t seem to do anything but breathe, and scarcely at that.

CAROLINE WAS STILL abed the next morning when Martha came in and told her she had callers. Caroline groggily sat up. “Who?”

“I don’t know, miss. Garrett sent me to fetch you.”

Her heart started. Was it Leopold? She grinned and threw off the covers. She dressed in a simple day gown, left her hair hanging down her back in a tail and hurried downstairs, eager to see him. But when she burst into the drawing room, the very room where she’d experienced something so very profound just hours before, she didn’t see Leopold at all. It was Mr. Drummond, from the office of the foreign secretary, and a very green Beck.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT