The Mammoth Book of Regency Romance
she’d discovered exactly where she ought to be.
    In Kinvarra’s arms. For ever.
    How had she imagined poor, pathetic, inadequate Harold Fenton could compare with the man she’d married?
    “Sebastian, I want you,” she said softly, surprised at how easily the words emerged. “Don’t make me wait.”
    Something in her voice or her smile must have convinced him she had grown beyond the skittish girl he’d married. Determination flooded his face, hardened his jaw, set his eyes glinting in a way that, for all her arousal, made her pulse race with trepidation.
    And excitement.
    How had she never recognized what an exciting man she’d married? She must have been insane ten years ago.
    This was no time for regrets. Not when her tall, handsome, overwhelmingly virile husband prowled towards her with such purpose. There was none of his earlier hesitation in the way he drew her into his arms and tugged her under him. There was just hunger and a masculine strength that made her feel both delicate yet stronger than steel.
    When he’d kissed her, she thought she’d measured his passion. But now he was insatiable. He touched her everywhere, he kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough of her mouth, he whispered praise and endearments until she was intoxicated with delight.
    He touched her between her legs, stroking the sleek folds. She shuddered against him as sensation streaked through her. New, strange, astonishing pleasure. She cried out his name and jerked her hips up to meet him. She wanted him to take her, to fill the lonely reaches of her soul, to appease her hungry senses. Her arms closed hard around him, feeling the coil and release of the muscles in his back.
    He rose above her and she caught the turbulent emotion in his face as he stared down at her. The moment spun into eternity then shattered when he joined his body to hers with a sure command that made her heart slam against her chest.
    Her body tightened. After the years without him, the invasion felt frightening and unfamiliar. He was a large man and she’d been chaste for so long. She dragged in a shuddering breath, struggling to adjust to his size and power.
    Another breath, heavy with the musky, male essence of Kinvarra. She shifted, angled her hips, felt him slide deeper, more surely. Then magically all awkwardness flowed away and, with perfect naturalness, she arched up to join him in a union as much of soul as body.
    And recognized with despairing clarity she’d never stopped loving him.
    Her hands clenched in the hot, bare skin of his shoulders as the inexorable truth rolled over her like a huge wave. Then she closed her eyes and gave herself up to Sebastian.
    Right now he was hers. She refused to let fear of the future destroy this moment of ultimate closeness. She refused to accept fear at all. Fear had already cost her so much.
    She felt his tension as he held himself still, then with hard, purposeful strokes that built her arousal to an inferno, he began to move. The dance wasn’t new to her, although the deep, joyous intimacy of this moment was.
    She spiralled higher and higher until she touched the sky. This was beyond anything she’d ever felt. Beyond anything she’d even imagined.
    At the peak, glittering light blinded her and she cried out. Such rapture. Such glory.
    Such love.
    Vaguely through the swirling storm of passion, she heard Sebastian’s deep groan. He shuddered and liquid heat spilled inside her. For a long moment, he held himself taut before he slumped, his body heavy with exhaustion.
    The air was redolent of their lovemaking. It was as if she breathed the memory of pleasure. She tightened her hold on his back, feeling the sinews flex as he settled himself against her without withdrawing. She’d never felt so close to another person.
    The fire burned low, leaving the room in darkness. Alicia stared up at the ceiling, watching the shadows gather. Nothing could dull the glow she felt or dam the satisfaction rippling through her

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