To All the Rakes I've Loved Before (A Honeycote Novella) by Anne Barton

because I was trying to protect myself.”
    “From what? You should know I’m no threat.”
    “You misunderstand. I was trying to convince myself that I could be happy sharing just a night with you. Selfishly, I want more. Much more.”
    “That’s good,” he growled. “Because I want to spend every night for the rest of my life with you. Starting with tonight.”
    “I want that too, but”—hesitation clouded her face, and he gave her an encouraging nod—“but how can you be so sure? You’ve been with women before… and each time you’ve moved on. What’s different this time?”
    “It’s simple. I love you.”
    She swallowed. “You do?”
    “How could I not? You’re compassionate and funny and you challenge me to be more than some caricature of a gambling, drinking, whoring rake. I wasn’t even enjoying myself, only doing what people seemed to expect of me. I was tired of acting the part… and you saw through it.”
    “It wasn’t very hard,” she said, smiling. Boldly, she shifted herself onto his lap, straddling him. His heart pounded. “I love you, Stephen. I didn’t think there was a man alive who could change my mind about marriage. But you can be very persuasive.”
    “Darling, you don’t know the half of it.”
    “I’m counting on you to show me.”
    “It will be my pleasure.” He slid a hand up her thigh, and she quivered in response. “I want to see you—all of you.”
    She smiled shyly, then shattered the effect by lifting the hem of her gown up and over her head. She sat facing him, gloriously naked.
    The lamp beside her bed cast shadows over her mouthwatering body—the swell of her breasts, the indent at her waist, and the curve of her sweet bottom. She rested her hands on his shoulders, letting him drink in the sight of her. The fire in her eyes and the proud angle of her chin; her wild curls and serene smile—so perfectly Amelia.
    She slid off him and reclined on her side, stretching long, lithe legs across the bed. “I want to see all of you too.”
    He shed his jacked and ripped off his shirt so fast that she giggled. But as he took off his breeches and drawers, her gaze turned heavy-lidded and sultry.
    Stephen’s blood thrummed in anticipation. He wanted to pull her beneath him and make her his. Forever. But he had to make this good for her.
    It wasn’t going to be easy.
    He sprawled out next to her, hauled her close, and kissed her. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, and caressed her breasts, loving the warm weight of them and the feel of her hard nipples poking his palms.
    She slid a long, smooth leg between his and wriggled against him like a seductress.
    “You are very good at this already.” His voice was ragged, like he’d run up four flights of stairs. “God help me when you have a bit more experience.”
    She chuckled and kissed a path across his chest before licking one flat nipple and then the other. He had to stop her before he lost all control of the situation.
    “I want you to lie back,” he said, “and put your arms above your head.”
    She settled her head against the silk-encased pillow and crossed her wrists above her head. “Like this?”
    “Perfect.” He stroked her hair away from her face and kissed the soft skin below her ear. “Now just relax. Close your eyes, if you like. Feel.”
    He drew a succulent nipple into his mouth and stroked her bottom, hips, and thighs. She moaned softly, but still he kept his touch light, drifting closer to her sex, and then away. His fingers skimmed the tops of her thighs and then eased her legs apart. When she started to bring her knees together, he kissed her until she was loose and relaxed—and open to him.
    He drew lazy circles on her belly and slowly, slowly slid his hand down to caress the thatch of curls covering her mound. She gasped and sank her fingers into the pillow above her head.
    “I want you to remember this night, always,” he said. “I want to make you feel… amazing.”
    “I’m