Nick headed straight to his cottage instead of returning to work. Too many emotions clawed at him, from guilt to despair to the determination to find a way to solve everything. His heart ached with unfulfilled need for Poppy, her sweet smile and her calming presence. Worst of all, his body rippled with unspent arousal. He hated that Mavis had been able to trigger his basest instincts, and every awkward, uncomfortable step he took as he marched up the path to his home was a kind of penance for going hard at someone other than Poppy’s touch. He should be better than that, truer than the lure of nature. He loved Poppy, and Poppy alone.

As soon as he crossed the threshold into his house, he slammed the door behind him and leaned his back against it. He rubbed his hands across his face and let his shoulders drop. How had he let things get so out of hand? He should have more strength than that. He didn’t want Mavis. A braver man would put his foot down and do what was right, no matter who it hurt.

Except that he couldn’t bear to disappoint his mother. Not when she’d done so much for him, before and after his father died. Perhaps if she met Poppy, she’d see what he saw and change her mind about him marrying Mavis.

Thoughts of his mother had the added effect of shrinking the relentless arousal that Mavis had sparked. He huffed an ironic laugh, then pushed away from the door. What he truly needed to regain his inner balance was a splash of cool water and an afternoon of hard work.

Two steps later, he froze. Poppy had slipped out from his bedroom and leaned against the doorframe.

“I heard you come in, but I didn’t want to disturb you,” she said quietly, her eyes round with worry.

That wasn’t all that was round. Nick blinked. She was dressed in a slippery shift made out of some kind of thin, silky material that left nothing to his imagination. Her breasts were outlined to perfection, their fullness almost bursting from the fabric. Her nipples were taut, and stood out sharply. The shift also hugged the softness of her belly and the curve of her hips and thighs, as though it were just a bit too small for her. She wore a sort of robe over the flimsy garment that covered one shoulder, but had slipped down to expose the other. Her hair was loose and natural, unlike the forced curls of the other day, and her eyes shone with nervous expectation.

The fact that she was clearly nervous instead of ruthlessly focused on seduction, like Mavis had been, broke the last of Nick’s resolve. Blood pounded to his groin, making his trousers painfully tight again. His heart had resisted Mavis, even if his body hadn’t, but all of him was helpless under the spell that was Poppy.

He crossed the room in a few, long strides, taking Poppy into his arms and kissing her as though his life depended on it. She squeaked in surprise, then sighed, deep and soft, as his lips parted hers and his tongue slipped in to taste her. He closed a hand over her backside, his cock aching when he discovered she was wearing nothing but the silky shift. The implication was so powerful that he trembled with need for her, grinding his hips against hers.

She was inexperienced and unstudied, but she kissed him back with enthusiasm. Her mouth accepted him, letting him vent every bit of frustration and lust that bad built up inside of him. But it wasn’t lust with her, at least not solely. He shifted to slide his hand up her side, cupping her breast and brushing his thumb across her nipple, and she moaned into his kiss. Her hands gripped the muscles of his back, and when he broke away from her lips to kiss her jaw, her neck, her shoulder, a cry of pure need ripped out of her.

“Oh, Nick,” she sighed, urgent and panting. She moved restlessly against him, her leg lifting against his.

Only then did Nick realize he had her wedged against the doorframe. She’d tipped her head back to expose more of her throat to him. He kissed his way down her chest to the top of her breast and was moments away from yanking her shift down to expose her breasts to his hungry mouth. The ache in his groin had grown so intense that the drive to shuck his trousers and take her right there, standing up, was overpowering.

Until sense snapped through him like a lightning strike.

He forced himself to straighten and inch away from her. His hands shook as he moved them from her breasts to her waist, and he gulped for air as he tried to catch his breath.

“I’m sorry,” he said, unable to pull away from her completely. His hips remained firmly pressed against hers, his erection trapped between them. “I should have controlled myself.”

“No,” she insisted, shaking her head and smiling. The nervous light was still in her eyes, and her chest heaved as she took short, shallow breaths. “This is what I came here for.” She slid her arms over his shoulders and threaded her fingers through his hair. “I want you to make love to me.”

“You do?” A grin tweaked the corner of his kiss-heated mouth, even as a surge of desire washed over him.

She nodded, biting her lip. “Miss Victoria loaned me one of her old nightgowns. It’s perfect, isn’t it?”

Nick glanced down at the wisp of silk masquerading as clothing. At his angle, it did nothing to conceal her breasts. Her milky skin tempted him. The shift had slipped down during their activity and now it seemed as though her nipples were the only thing holding on, keeping the fabric from slithering to the floor. The mental image didn’t help Nick gather the resolve to let Poppy go so that he could figure out why she was there.

He blinked and glance up, meeting her eyes. “Why are you here?” he asked.

“I told you.” She blushed and glanced down, her lashes flirting with her cheeks. His cock jumped at the sight. “I want you to make love to me.”

He wanted nothing more than to give her everything she wanted and more, but the tiniest kernel of doubt nagged at him. “But why?”

She raised her eyes, meeting his with a heat he never would have expected from her. “Because I love you.”

Deep swirls of rightness radiated from his heart. They swooped through his gut and landed hard in his groin. He would never hear anyone else say those words with as much artlessness or as much determination as Poppy was saying them now. Not from Mavis, not from any other woman. His soul had only one mate, and that was Poppy. He should have let her go, explained the way the world worked and the obligations that men like him had.

Instead, he said, “I love you too. I’ll never love anyone else.”

Poppy sucked in a breath, her heart bursting like a flower blooming in the sun. Nick loved her. He hadn’t laughed at her for dressing in Miss Victoria’s scandalous nightgown, and he hadn’t thrown her out for being a ninny and trying to seduce him. His body pressed into hers, hard and masculine. His staff throbbed against her belly. It took every bit of restraint she had not to rub against it. Her lips still tingled with his kiss, and her breasts felt heavy and hungry for his touch.

“Make love to me,” she whispered, wishing she knew what she was doing. Every other woman in the world probably knew how to make a man take of his clothes and carry her to bed, but she didn’t know what to do other than want him.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his hands sliding slowly from her sides up to her breasts.

She breathed in, arching into his hands. “I like that,” she whispered. It was such a silly thing to say. Surely there were better words, words that would excite him and make her irresistible.

“So do I,” he answered. He reached for the nightgown’s straps and the edges of the robe and tugged them down over her shoulders. The whole garment slipped free, exposing her breasts and gathering around her hips. Nick closed his hands tenderly around her bare breasts. “I like this a lot.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” she gasped, as he lifted and squeezed her breasts, teasing her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. “Oh!”

The sensations he invoked in her shot straight to the ache between her legs. She wanted to move her lips, part her legs and rub against the part of him that was hard and hot between them. It was uncanny and a bit unsettling. She’d always considered herself a good girl, but as Nick bent to kiss one of her breasts while fondling the other, closing his mouth over her nipple and licking, she was desperate to be naked under him, her legs spread while he did anything and everything to her. She suddenly understood how women could become whores.

But no, she wouldn’t have felt the same need to submit to whatever Nick wanted from her with any other man. She was his and his alone. But being his meant he could have her any way he wanted.

“I can’t resist you,” Nick rumbled, kissing his way back to her lips. He slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her with such intensity that she went dizzy. “I should,” he went on as his hands slipped to her sides again, pushing the nightgown and robe down over her hips. It pooled around her feet, leaving her naked in his arms. “But I can’t. I want you too much.”

“I want you too,” she said, barely able to get the words out as the breath left her lungs. The whisper of cool air against her heated skin and the brush of Nick’s hands against her were too delicious. “Oh!”

His hands continued sliding down, but to Poppy’s surprise, Nick sank to his knees as well. He kissed her belly as his hands brushed her thighs. When he reached her knees, he changed directions and ran his fingers up the insides of her thighs. It felt as though he turned her bones to butter as he did. She gripped the doorframe clumsily to keep from tumbling over as he nudged her legs apart. They couldn’t go far and still hold her up, but he teased his way up until his fingers slipped through her curls and teased the softness between her legs.

“Oh, my.” Her body was ready to burst into flame as he traced his fingers across her opening. The rush of sensation left her trembling and breathless.

“I knew you’d be wet for me,” he said with a low, possessive rumble. “I’ve wanted to taste you for so long.”

“T-tas—ah!”

He nudged her hips wider and closed his mouth over the most sensitive part of her. She didn’t know how she remained standing, except that her nails dug into the doorframe behind her. The sight of his face buried against her coupled with the sensation of his tongue flicking against her left her weak and whimpering and wanting more. What he was doing was nothing but a prelude to everything she imagined he’d be able to do if she were on her back in his bed with her legs spread, but the hint of that pleasure, the glimpse into everything they could do together was enough to unhinge the spring within her.

She gasped as her body blossomed into pure, throbbing pleasure. Nick groaned, inching back to slide his hand where his mouth had been and two of his fingers into the part of her that was quaking.

“Yes,” he hummed. “Come for me. So easy.”

She was speechless as the wave of sudden bliss subsided, panting and hot. Her breasts were impossibly heavy as she arched her back, bearing down on his hand and hoping he would keep his fingers right where they were. The whole thing left her wanting more and more and more.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” Nick asked, standing at last and pulling her into him. He was still fully clothed, while she had never felt more naked in her life.

She nodded, then found her voice. “Yes. Oh, yes.”

“You want me to do it again.”

It wasn’t a question, but she nodded, glancing up to him with wide, hungry eyes. He watched her for a moment, cradling the side of her face. Something fierce and possessive flashed in his eyes.

“Something tells me that you could find yourself in a great deal of trouble, Poppy Miller.”

She didn’t know how to answer. He caressed her backside with one hand, his fingers tracing her cleft, while he brushed her lips with the thumb of his other hand. He slipped his thumb into her parted lips, and she sucked on it.

The heat and possessiveness in Nick’s eyes deepened. “I won’t let any other man corrupt you,” he whispered as she stroked the pad of his thumb with her tongue. “And I have a feeling it would be far too easy to do.”

“I don’t want any other man,” she said when he withdrew his thumb. “I only want you. But I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

The emotions that flashed across his face turned Poppy’s core into a quivering ball of white-hot liquid. He was capable of a great many things that she found both frightening and irresistible. If he were a bad man, she was certain he would hurt her in ways she couldn’t dream of. But he was a good man, and he would never harm her. However, knowing that he could sparked something in her that was strange and exciting that she didn’t understand.

The tension rippling off him resolved into a long sigh. He lifted her and carried her a few steps into the bedroom, laying her across the bed. From there, he bent to untie and kick off his boots, then fumbled with his trousers and suspenders.

“God help me, Poppy, I want to do things to you,” he said, his voice darker and more excited than she’d ever heard it. Poppy wriggled against his quilt, rubbing her legs together even as she wanted to throw them wide. “I want to do things that are diabolical.” He shrugged out of his suspenders and yanked his shirt up over his head.

“Like what?” Poppy asked, but her mouth went dry as he shoved his trousers down over his hips.

His staff sprung free, thick and hard and standing straight up against the dark curls between his legs. His thighs were powerful, and the sight of his full, naked body sent swirls of desire and panic through her, but her attention was riveted on that male part of him. It was so large, larger than any stolen glimpses of boys swimming at the docks back home or teasing peeks she had traded with beaux in her younger years for a look at what she had under her skirts. Nick was no child’s game. He was all man, virile and proud. She had no idea how something as engorged and aggressive as his staff would fit inside of her, but she wanted to find out.

“I want you on your knees in front of me with my cock in your mouth,” he said, climbing onto the bed with her and encompassing her with his body. “I want your hands and feet tied to my bed so that you can’t move as I fuck you.”

She let out a shivering half-moan at the almost inconceivable ideas he shared with her, the ache in her center growing almost painful with need. His body was a breath away from hers, and yet no part of him touched her.

“I want you bent over, my handprint red on your arse as I take you from behind.” He placed one hand on her belly and slowly slid it up to her breast. Poppy nearly arched off the bed, it felt so good. “And I want you straddling me, pleasuring yourself as you ride me, your tits bouncing as I watch.”

She licked her lips, feeling as though her whole body were turning to liquid. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes to all of it.”

“But right now,” he said, lowering his head to hers and breathing in, “I want you to come for me again.” She started to nod, but he stopped her. “And then I want to sheathe myself in your wetness and feel your tight, hot cunny milk the seed out of me.”

Poppy let out a fluttery sound, somewhere between a sigh and a laugh. No one had ever said such dirty words to her before, but coming from Nick, she loved it. She adored it. And though it seemed backwards in every way, she wanted him to say more dirty things to her, vulgar things.

She didn’t have a chance to ask. He moved quickly, as though a lamp had burst into flames while they were talking and something needed to be done about it immediately. He scooted back, then hooked his arms under her knees. With a single, powerful movement, he wrenched her legs apart, holding her knees to the side and exposing her core to him. She started to wriggle with pleasure, only to realize that he held her too firmly, at his mercy. And then his mouth closed over her once more.

She let out a cry as his tongue traced along her wet entrance, then delved deeper. The sensations of him tasting that part of her so boldly were heady and sent flames through her. She didn’t know what to do with her arms, her head, the whole rest of her body. It was as if no other part of her existed aside from the gaping, hungry center of her sex. He nuzzled her, making sounds that betrayed how much he enjoyed pleasuring her with his mouth. At last, he found the throbbing button of her pleasure with his tongue and began to circle and stroke her.

This time, when the wave of pleasure crashed into her, it was as fierce and wild as any storm. She shouted his name as her body slammed into hard, cataclysmic convulsions that left her dizzy with pleasure. Nothing she’d ever been able to spark in herself had been so all-consuming. It was bliss incarnate.

And then Nick let her legs go and shifted above her. Her body was still throbbing with orgasm as he pushed into her. Something within her tore, the moment of pain causing her to gasp, but the pleasure that followed was so much greater. He stretched her to the point where she couldn’t breathe, it felt so wonderful. She clasped her arms around him, digging her fingernails into his back as he thrust again and again and again. It was so perfect that she let out a cry with each thrust as pleasure built quickly inside of her once more.

“Poppy,” he cried, utterly out of control and desperate. “Poppy.”

In an instant, the balance shifted, and she was holding him, steadying him as his journey of passion neared its end. He was suddenly dependent on her to cradle and accept him, and to keep him from flying off into oblivion. She could feel it in her soul, even though he was well beyond being able to use words to tell her. He needed her to protect the wildness within him, to give it a home.

At last, his body stiffened as he thrust deep, and he let out a cry that was far more vulnerable than anything she’d ever heard. It felt as though their souls had connected in mutual need, as though they would never be whole without each other again. And slowly, his tension ebbed, his thrusts faded, and he collapsed above her.

His weight above her was crushing and beautiful. She could have laid there with him like that forever, but within moments, he rolled to the side, panting and sweaty. She rolled with him, not realizing she needed to catch her breath until she gasped, her chest heaving. She blinked rapidly, a smile spreading across her face. Her life had just changed. Changed in an instant. Changed for the better.

Her body ached in a different way now, spent and used. It was the most wonderful sensations she could have imagined. She was hot and felt as wrung out as a rag, but at last, everything was right.

“I….” she began, struggling to catch her breath. “I love you, N—”

“Nick!”

His name didn’t come from her lips, but from Mavis’s, in a high, furious shout.

Poppy yelped as though cold water had been splashed over her and tried to sit, but her body was too tangled with Nick’s.

He did manage to sit, though, bringing her with him, and together the two of them faced the furious, red face of Mavis…and the pale, shocked older woman who stood beside her in the doorway.

Nick scrambled to pull the coverlet around them, his cheeks burning red. “Mum,” he croaked. “What are you doing here?”