Tenderness tugged at his heart. “It was even better than my dreams.”
A strange expression lit her luminous eyes. “You dream of me?”
“How could I not?”
She ducked her head but not before he saw her shy smile.
Quinn was aware of the rippling of tender emotions inside him. While Venetia was still dazzled by the lush mysteries of passion coursing through her body, passion was no mystery to him. This intoxicated feeling, however, was staggeringly unique in his experience.
He’d told himself that her sexual liberation was his goal. But he was fooling himself by pretending there was nothing deeper. He was becoming too involved, he knew. Coming to care too much. And yet it felt natural.
His silent contemplations, however, only served to rouse Venetia’s uncertainty again.
“I doubt I could ever measure up to your other lovers,” she murmured.
“You can and you did.” She was far better than his other lovers, but she needed more reassurance, he knew. “I have wanted to make love to you for years.”
“I never knew.”
“Honor prevented me from showing any sign while you were betrothed.”
“Do you suppose…Could we make love again?”
He couldn’t stop his smile at her unique combination of shyness and abandonment. Her eagerness was highly flattering, but he had to think of her.
“It was your first time. I don’t want to make you too sore.”
Disappointment crept over her beautiful face.
“Never fear, love. I promised you pleasure, remember?”
He guided her backward until they reached the edge of the pool, but there he hesitated. Venetia was looking up at him expectantly, her ripe lips parted.
Returning her gaze, Quinn was suddenly struck by the swift return of passion. He’d thought he needed time to recover, but he had already grown hard again where her hips cradled his.
How could he ever have thought they could keep apart when their desire was so strong? How could he ever have thought he could keep his need under control?
It was fortunate that she’d insisted on returning with him to London despite the danger. He didn’t want to leave her behind. For one thing, he needed a great deal more time to woo her, Quinn thought, wondering if an eternity would be enough to satisfy the craving he felt for Venetia just now, if anything could douse the unreasoning desire that seared him.
Giving in momentarily, he reached up and took her face in his hands, more roughly than he intended. Hunger drove his fingers deep into her hair to bring her luscious mouth to his. Her response was just as passionate and impulsive, though, and renewed all his thoughts of ravishment.
He kissed her ravenously, until they were both breathless. Then with a harsh, shuddering inhalation, he forced himself to break off and step back.
Shifting his hands to span her waist, he lifted her up to sit on the bank.
“Quinn…what are you doing?”
He was taking back control of his own riotous, helpless longings. “Lie back, sweeting.”
Urging her down onto the flat stone, he nudged her legs apart. Her breath hitched when he leaned forward and splayed his palms over her bare breasts.
With Venetia spread out before him like a sumptuous feast, he stepped between her parted thighs. “I have wanted to do this for years also.”
Lowering his head, he lightly kissed her slick cleft, eliciting another soft gasp from her.
The taste of her rekindled the fierce ache in his loins. And moments later, when she whispered his name—his given name—on a husky, needful rasp, the fire that ignited inside him was as powerful as he’d ever felt.
Quinn proceeded to have his way with her, aware that possessiveness had never gripped him so hard. He was also aware of an incontrovertible fact: With the consummation, he had made Venetia his wife. For better or worse, he had claimed her for his own.