Page 76 of The Earl and the Reluctant Lady
“Agnes,” he said in a raspy voice as he pushed into her.
Sharp pain rocketed through her and she clenched around him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, then feathered kisses across her face. “I’m sorry. It will ease in a moment, I promise.”
She nodded, then wiggled beneath him, trying to adjust herself to his invasion.
“Oh God.” He panted. “You’re so tight. So very warm and wet.”
Then he began to move, slow and shallow at first, teasing her sensations between pain and pleasure. Deeper and faster he went, and her desire began to mount quickly.
Her legs tightened around him and she pulled his face down for a kiss. She forgot about the remaining uncomfortable twinges and focused on him. His lips, soft and passionate, moving across hers.
His body pressed against her. Him making love to her.
Pressure was mounting within her and she had felt something similar before. That night in the garden. Only this was deeper, further away, yet more intense. Then everything shattered and pleasure ricocheted through her body. She had barely come down from her climax when she heard his guttural moans as he spilled himself inside her.
Several hours later she awoke, for the second time in her life, naked and alone in her bed. He had left her.
Again.
Agnes walked into the parlor downstairs after being summoned for visitors. She truly wasn’t feeling up to seeing anyone, but her mother would hear none of it.
“Oh, thank heavens you’re all right,” Justine said, coming forward. Matilda moved with her and they both embraced her.
“We were so worried,” Matilda said.
Agnes frowned. “But how did you know anything had happened?”
“Lord Wakefield,” Matilda said. “He was going mad looking for you. He was so very concerned.”
Justine nodded. “I had to leave before it was all over, but he and Matilda figured it out.”
She hadn’t even thought to ask Fletcher last night how he’d found her. She’d been so damned thankful he had and then he’d brought her home and she’d begged him to make love to her. Her cheeks heated at the memory of his hands and mouth on her body.
“You must be so out of sorts from your ordeal,” Matilda said.
“Did he hurt you?” Justine asked, her fingers reaching up to Agnes’s face before stopping and putting her hand back down.
“Fletcher?” Agnes asked, then realized the ridiculousness of the question. “No, of course you meant Michael.” She exhaled slowly, then had them sit where she told them an abbreviated version of the evening. Where she had run into Michael after being so upset about Fletcher kissing Celeste. Oh God, she hadn’t even asked him about that last night. She was a damned fool.
“Yes, I told Lord and Lady Somersby about everything and they readily left the ball,” Matilda said once Agnes had gotten to the part of the story where the couple had shown up to take Michael into custody.
“Is your engagement back on, with Lord Wakefield?” Justine asked.
“No,” Agnes said.
“Yes,” a voice came from the door.
She looked up to find Fletcher standing there. Her heart bottomed out. She came to her feet. “Fletcher, what are you doing here?”
He closed the distance between them. His hand reached up and cupped her cheek. “Did you think I’d simply walk away? After last night?”
She was vaguely aware that her friends had made their way to the parlor door. “We’ll see you later, Agnes,” Justine murmured, then they closed the door and left.
“Did you?” Fletcher asked again.
She swallowed. “Yes. I thought you had left.”
