“This is… different, Darius.”

“Not painful?”

“Uncomfortable.”

Damnable word. He went still. “You move, then. If it hurts, you show me what you’re comfortable with.”

“I didn’t say it hurt.” She tried a slow glide along his cock, and Darius nearly shouted with the pleasure bolting up his spine. “It’s… unsettling.”

“Arousing?”

She didn’t answer, her expression suggesting she was too inwardly focused.

“Don’t think so hard, Vivvie.” He brushed his fingers over her serious expression, unable to recall when bed sport had required so much talking. He didn’t ask her permission but shifted on a slow roll in counterpoint to her movement.

“Oh… my… gracious.”

“You like that?” He offered her a tad more and prayed for fortitude.

“It… helps. I think.”

“How about that?” He let another inch of the reins slip through his mental gloves. “Does that help more?”

“Mmm.” She folded down, depriving him of the sight of her face should her eyes go soft with further arousal, depriving him of the sight of her breasts, rosy from his attention, begging for more. But she anchored herself on his chest, telling him he was free to pleasure her with his cock—pleasure them both—so he spent a few minutes easing her along, getting her used to the push and drag of two bodies intent on one goal.

“Hold on to me, Vivvie,” he whispered, sneaking in a kiss to her temple and fitting one hand around a full breast.

She clung, and he kept his tempo slow but purposeful, until he could feel her losing her grip, shifting from considering the sensations gathering in her body to being swamped with them.

“Let it happen, Vivvie.” He anchored an arm across her back and thrust deep. “I owe you this. Let me give it to you.”

“Darius…?”

He’d wanted a pleasant little appetizer orgasm for her, an introduction to further pleasures as a way to gain her trust, like the promenade at the beginning of a ball. But the way she was panting and meeting him thrust for thrust told him she was going up fast, hard, and hot.

“Darius… what? Oh, Jesus save me…”

“I’ve got you.” Darius felt her body begin to flutter and grab at his cock. “Let yourself go, Vivvie. I’ve got you.” He held her tightly, curling up into her embrace even as he thrust deeply into her, seeking heat.

And he hadn’t meant to let himself come, but she convulsed around him hard, then harder still, and in the part of his mind not incoherent with pleasure, he heard the words, “Give her a baby.”

Bliss rippled up from their joining and washed out over his body in long, hot pulses, until he lost the sense of where his skin separated him from Vivian, or any other aspect of creation. He heard himself moan—he never moaned—and felt himself clutching at Vivian more desperately than he sought his next breath. His body gave itself up to drenching spasms of pleasure, until he realized that harsh, grating sound was his breathing, and he was going to suffocate Vivian if he didn’t turn loose of her.

“Jesus.” He echoed her earlier prayer. “Holy Jesus.”

She pushed up to peer at him. “Was that how it was supposed to go?”

He smiled at her, loving the earnest concern in her expression, the rosy flush of pleasure on her chest. “It will do for a start.”

“You’re teasing me.” She settled down against his chest, content, and he was content to have her in his arms. More than content, God help him.

“Did I hurt you?” He was smug, intent on his point, and he emphasized it with a soft push of his flagging erection.

She lifted her face again to consider him, and there wasn’t any humor in her eyes.

“I didn’t know it would be like that.”

She was asking him a question. He kissed her nose and dodged, partly. “I didn’t either, love.”

“It changes things.”

“Conception could be considered a change.” He congratulated himself on the nimbleness of his feint. A little honesty went a long way under these circumstances. “We won’t know about that for a few weeks.”

“Gracious. Weeks.” She subsided, laying her cheek over his heart, and he was grateful for her silence, because the magnitude of the possibility was hitting him in a way it hadn’t earlier. This little romp—this excursion into pleasure—very well could result in a life, an innocent life, full of potential for good and ill. The notion stilled the humming pleasure in his body but ignited a different kind of warmth where Vivian lay gathered against his chest.

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d let himself come in a woman’s body. He’d had the experience, of course, with… some pregnant baroness, or the Italian equivalent thereto. He wasn’t sure which, but it had been years ago, before he’d become so desperate for coin, before his sister’s safety and welfare had been thrust into his youthful and impoverished hands.

And now Vivian was in his hands, trusting him to get her a baby and not break her heart in the process.

He could do that. He’d make sure of it. The only real question was whether he’d survive when his own was broken instead.

She was going to cry, and Vivian was certain that wasn’t comme il faut. The sensations were overwhelming, the pleasure beyond description, and the emotions… She silently apologized to William, who’d no doubt shared years and years of these kinds of feelings with his Muriel. Feelings Vivian would never have been able to compete with, never have been able to match.

And what of Darius? How did he do this, hire himself out for coin when the consequences were so intimately devastating?

Or were they?

He held her tenderly, his hands on her back leaving a trail of slow, sweet pleasure where he traced her bones and muscles. He’d shown her consideration of a magnitude Vivian had never imagined—was this why Angela loved her husband? Was it the promise of that kind of care that had seen her own mother giving in to Thurgood’s smiles and caresses?

Vivian was witless to puzzle through it, but her best guess was that Darius wasn’t witless. He was used to this. He’d said as much.

Like an ice on a hot day, a good gallop on a fall morning. Nothing more. Not even when it started a precious new life, not even when it meant a woman he hardly knew would be financially secure for life.

She felt him slipping from her body, and then he was patting her backside. “Slide up, so you’re over me.”

“I’ll make a mess.”

“A small mess. On me, rather than on the sheets. Up you go.”

Another gentle pat, and she complied, mortified to feel his seed leaving her body along with him. And then he was casually holding a folded handkerchief to her sex, preventing the mess but completing her sense of embarrassment.

“You’re blushing.” He kissed her cheek and dabbed at her gently. “There’s no need for that.”

“Blushing isn’t a matter of need.” She dropped her face to his shoulder and felt him using the handkerchief low on his belly. “Shall I go back to my room?”

“Is that what you’d like?”

He tossed the handkerchief aside and passed her a glass of water. When she sat up to drink it, she realized she was still straddling him, and she was naked, and he was…

Well, of course he was looking at her, smiling up at her a little… tentatively. The light from the banked fire was dim, but Vivian was certain she’d never seen that exact smile on Darius Lindsey’s face. She passed him the water, and when he’d finished, she set it on the nightstand.

“I’m sleepy,” she said, “and your bed is warm.”

“Never say I sent a lady alone to a cold, dreary bed.” He stroked the mattress beside him, and she climbed off him and cuddled up.

“So is that something they pay you for too?”

“I beg your pardon?” There was amusement in his tone, also something else—bewilderment? Hurt? She would certainly have paid him for it, paid him a great deal.