38. Ruined in Every Way

RUINED IN EVERY WAY

S ometime later, a few hours, likely more, Leopold realized they couldn't stay locked in his private chamber all day.

Neither had slept the night before, and as tempting as it was to stay right there in bed, making love and sleeping, and then making love again, they couldn't.

Leopold was vaguely aware of the comings and goings to and from the inn. And unless Winterhope's caravan of fancy coaches had driven off without him knowing, the marquess had postponed their departure.

Which meant Winterhope was still here. As was Amelia's mother.

"This is so much easier on a bed." Amelia's voice sang a little. She'd made a pillow of his chest and had her legs tangled up with his.

"Are you sure?" He dipped his chin so he could watch her expression. "You didn't say yes just because you, in fact, have ruined me?"

He felt her answering giggle all over.

How had he ever lived without her?

She rolled a little and, propping her chin on both her arms, stared at him with teasing blue eyes. Her braid was long gone—his handiwork, he noted—leaving a tangled mass of silky strands trailing down her back and over her shoulders. Just when he thought she couldn't possibly look more beautiful.

"Are you?" she asked. "Ruined?"

"Oh, thoroughly."

Her smile widened. "Me too." She bit her bottom lip, and for a few seconds, he simply stared into her eyes. All of this was so new.

"It might take some time to believe this is real." The confession came out sounding more serious than he'd intended.

She lowered her chin and then whispered, "I love you." She pushed up and pressed a kiss on his chin. "I love you." She pressed another onto the tip of his nose. And then, repeating the words over again and again, she pressed kisses to his forehead and both of his cheeks. If he remembered correctly, she'd kissed all his scars.

And then she was kissing his mouth. Lazy at first and then adventurous. And hungry.

When Leopold gripped her hips, she sat up. She only hovered for a few seconds.

"Is this real enough?" It was almost a dare.

This woman.

Leopold palmed her breasts, letting her set the pace, watching all her expressions. He savored the way the tip of her tongue touched her top lip. The way she struggled to keep her eyes open. The pink flush that ebbed up her chest and her neck to darken her cheeks. He was the luckiest man in the world.

When he sensed she was ready, he skated his hands down to her hips, squeezing them, lifting her up and then down. With the slightest pressure, she made little circles, grinding and building more tension. Over and over again.

Leopold imagined himself lost in this woman—the only place he wanted to be.

It didn't take long for her succumb to the little death, arching her back, her hands behind her, digging her fingers into his thighs.

His own release had them both shaking, gasping. Neither of them would have noticed if the world ceased to exist. All that mattered was this.

The two of them.

But when Amelia finally fell forward, unable to hold herself up, Leopold let out a little laugh.

"Ah, Love. I'm out of my depths here. But I'm determined to marry you as soon as possible. Should I speak with Winterhope or your mother?"

She snuggled into his chest again. "She won't give her blessing," Amelia murmured. "But I suppose you could try."

"In that case…" Leopold sighed. He'd do everything he could to make Amelia happy. Even if it meant a little groveling. To that woman. Ah, hell. "I suppose we should get dressed."