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She unfastens the bow of her belt, and the dressing gown falls to the floor. Without the embrace of the fine silk, her naked body shivers to the touch of the cool summer breeze seeping through the open window of Colin’s bedroom.
Penelope stands still, unmoving. She dares not look down at her breasts or the curvature of her thighs. Her gaze is fixed on Colin laying on the bed in front of her. “There you have it,” she says. “All of me.” Nobody has seen like that before, and she thought nobody ever would, until tonight. What even compelled her to drag Colin out of the carriage and command him to take her to his chambers. Now, she’s here naked in front of him, waiting for him to react, to do anything to free her of the agony she put herself in.
But Colin simply stares back, mouth agape, gaze shifting between her face, her breasts, and her hips.
“You don’t like this,” she shrieks, but as she reaches for the dressing gown on the floor, Colin leaps from his bed and stops her.
“Don’t you dare” he says, holding her hand. His eyes waver to her lips, and he reaches to cradle her face. His kiss leaves Penelope gasping for breath.
“You are beautiful, Penelope,” he says, hands sliding to her hips, holding her so close against him, she can barely breathe.
He examines at her again, smirk growing on his face. He’s still wearing his clothes from the ball, fully covered while she’s standing here, naked and exposed at his mercy.
“You are loving this way too much,” she says, lips quivering.
Another smirk. His hand moves to cup her breast. “I think it’s just the right amount of love,” he says, then bends down to suck on her nipple.
Penelope lets out a whimper, which only makes him go harder. He cups both her breasts, smothering them in his face. “Your nipples are so stiff,” he says as he rolls his tongue from one to the other. “So perfect.”
The chandelier on the ceiling begins to spin, and Penelope has to hold on to him from falling. “This is not what I had in mind when told you I’d show you who I am,” she gasps.
Drool on his chin, Colin looks up at her. “No? Who are you then, Penelope Featherington?” He’s on his knees, lips ravenously kissing her tummy.
Penelope shivers as he reaches the mound of curls between her legs. “Should we really be doing this here, Colin?”
Colin pauses. “No.” He gets up abruptly, wipes his face and wraps an arm around her waist, beckoning her to the bed.
“My wife to be deserves a proper treat.” He lays her across the bedspread and kneels next to her, watching her.
“Please, Colin, haven’t I endured enough agony already?” Penelope asks, flushed.
“Agony?” Colin chuckles. “Miss Featherington, I wish to grant you nothing but pure pleasure.” He unbuttons his vest, then slips off his shirt, then the trousers.
“We even now?” he asks, climbing on top of her. Penelope has always wanted to run her fingers down his bare chest, to caress the soft hairs and feel his heart, pure and wild, beat in his ribcage.
Her fingers shake but just before she could touch him, he grasps her head and kisses her, pressing his whole body to hers. His hand glides with gentle certainly over her thigh, fingers caressing the smooth skin of her leg’s underside until he reaches the silky curls of hair between her legs. He gives her a questioning glance and Penelope nods. She closes her eyes and parts her legs.
“Colin,” Penelope gasps as he enters her. She clings onto to the bedsheets under her, hips trembling.
“You’re so pretty when you cry my name like that,” Colin says, curving his fingers inside her.
Penelope turns and muffles a moan into the pillow, but Colin knows what she’s doing and won’t let her hid. She feels his hand on her cheek, sweeping strands of wet hair off her face.
“Not so fast,” he says, running his fingers though her hair and forcing her head up. “Look at me.” His words come out almost pleading. “I want to see you, all of you.” Despite the newly unleashed hunger in him, that warm spark still burns in his gaze. It’s the same spark which he had when he first met her all those years ago, and the one he’s looked at her with ever since. Nothing and everything has changed.
“Colin Please,” Penelope cries as his thumb brushes her clit. But he takes his time, grinning, soaking up every whimper and pleading gaze that might escape her. “Please, Colin,” she muffles his name, again and again as she comes, gaze fixed on him, her love, her best friend, the only one she ever wants to do this with.
Her body shivers as he finally withdraws from her. The room feels cold, so she turns to her side, drawing the bedsheet over herself.
Colin slides behind her, arm wrapping around her waist. “Have I ever told you how divine you feel,” he murmurs, hand gliding over her thigh. “I could spend an eternity in this bed.”
It makes Penelope chuckle. “I thought the great Colin Bridgerton never stayed the night.”
“Oh, but Miss Featherington, you are not a common harlot. For have you forgotten that you will be my wife?” His fingers drag her chin back until her gaze shift to him. “Perhaps, I need to make myself clear.”
He kisses her, his chest hot and damp against her. Penelope can feel him remove his underwear, so she parts her legs.
Colin hastily positions himself but pauses. “Penelope, we can wait-“
“I want to,” she says. “I’ve never wanted anything more.” Her eyes dart to his crotch, where he is holding his erect penis, and smiles. “You’re really hot you know that?”
His expression of concern melts and his hand reaches for her flushed cheek. He takes her lips with his again and guides himself inside her.
Penelope had spent years writing about it, that feeling of being so closely connected to someone it makes you complete. She gazes into his eyes, which shine like emeralds in the moonlit bedroom light, and she knows there’s no one else she’d rather be with.
“Colin,” she whispers his name again, just make sure it’s real. “I love you, Colin.”
Colin chuckles. “I love you too, Pen. I always have.”
He brings her hands over her head and laces his fingers in hers. Their bodies move together in perfect unison, never letting go of each other.
When they finish, Colin wraps Penelope in his embrace. They lay awake, laughing, talking, about everything and nothing, and for just this one night, the world is perfect. It is not until the first trays of light penetrate through the curtains that they fall asleep and when they wake, it’s midday.
“Colin, we’re a mess,” Penelope says as she hobbles over the other side of the room to pick her dress off the floor. “Lady Bridgerton won’t be best pleased to see me sneaking out of your bedroom window.”
“How about you don’t,” Colin says, getting up. He extends his hand, wearing that poised smile again. “Let’s go tell the whole world about us.”