Sonata in D Minor, K.9, by Domenico Scarlatti

Intoxicated by the taste of her tongue on his, Aiden moved to the side. With an impatient hand, he hauled her skirts up, revealing her legs little by little. The heavy and sticky wet fabric was making the task more arduous than he preferred.

She wasn't wearing any stockings, which aroused him more than he could ever have imagined. Hers were the most gracious, the most perfect legs he had ever seen. The appeal of them had him dropping his hand on the inside of her knee. Her skin was still slightly cold from her moment in the water. He could already feel it warm up under his touch. Taking his time, he carefully moved his hand upward, treasuring how soft she was. The sight of his large hand on her thigh, progressing slowly, was affecting him more than he'd thought possible. Discovering more of her was overwhelming, and he couldn't wait to have explored her enough to know her by heart.

As his hand slowly traveled up to its destination, her legs clamped together, tighter and tighter. Only then did he remember she was innocent. Being seen for the first time by a man had to be nerve-racking. Especially outside, with the sun shining and leaving no room for modesty.

He lifted his gaze from her sumptuous legs and looked at her face. Her pearly teeth were planted into her lower lip, her cheeks red, and her eyes tightly shut. Gently, he motioned to kiss her.

Leaving her skirts as they were, he focused on getting her panting and distracted again. It didn't take long, as she welcomed his lips and tongue with enthusiasm. He gently returned his hand on her leg, right over her knee, not wanting to push her too fast. When he tried to slip it between her closed thighs, she tightened.

"I thought you wanted this," he whispered in her ear.

"I do. It's just that... I'm embarrassed. I don't know what to do..."

Her voice was trembling, almost as if she was about to cry. He nipped her ear and smiled when he felt her shiver against him.

"I know what to do, love. Will you trust me?" She nervously nodded, and he kissed her neck, right on a spot where he could see a vein pulsate. "Open for me," he whispered as he tried again to push his hand between her thighs. She obeyed slowly, and he couldn't contain a grunt of appreciation.

"That's it, love. Now I'm going to move my hand up."

As he said it, he caressed the inside of her thigh, moving upward to her core. She flinched when he grazed the tender skin high on the inside of her legs. Before he even reached her delicate folds, he could feel her heat, her wetness. When his thumb brushed her curls, she let out a sensual sigh.

God, how he loved her.

He doubted he would ever get enough of her. This would be their first of many times. And after he would have had her, when she would lay in his arms, satisfied and peaceful, he would ask her to marry him. And she wouldn't refuse, not after all this.

Ever since she had left, after their moment in his study, Aiden had thought about it constantly. He couldn't imagine spending the rest of his life with anyone else. What the others would think didn't matter. As soon as they'd get to know Amalia Romero, people would understand why marrying her had been his only choice.

This morning, he had chosen a ring to ask her to become his forever, and he'd taken it with him, hoping the occasion would arise. And it would. Along with other things, he thought, adjusting his position to relieve the pressure on his aching groin.

He couldn't wait for them to be married. He wanted to live the rest of his life with this strong-minded, bright, and talented spitfire of a woman. Never would they have a dull day together, their life full of love and adventures. They would grow old together, have children, grandchildren, and he would spend a lifetime proving to her she had made the right decision.

"Look at me," he asked softly, lifting himself on his elbow. She opened her eyes, and her smile lightened his heart.

His hand was still on the verge of her intimacy, and with their eyes locked, he closed the small space left. The instant his fingers met her wetness, a shiver ran up his arm, and he had to fight the urge to move faster. He didn't want to scare her. Admiring the slight changes on her face, he touched her with care, as if that part of her was a delicate flower, a fragile orchid. With patient curiosity, his fingers surveyed her wet folds, spreading them, caressing them.

She let out a voluptuous sigh, and he couldn't help but kiss her. He took his time fondling her lightly, letting her get used to being touched. When she moaned and lifted her hips to intensify his touch, he knew she was ready. Until now, he had avoided the crucial spot, but now she needed him there. With a determined but gentle gesture, he moved his thumb to her hidden pearl. Another moan. He kept stroking it gently while two other fingers were toying with her entrance, barely entering, withdrawing...

She was the most gorgeous she'd ever been, whimpering, undulating, flustered. One lifetime would never be enough.

"Aiden," she whimpered.

"What is it, Ama?"

"More... I want more..."

His delighted grin vanished on her lips when he kissed her again. His index finger slid inside of her, and he marveled at how warm and tight she was. The digit extracted another moan from her that resonated all the way to his erection, which palpitated with need. Adjusting the speed of his thumb, he moved his finger back and forth in her. With the way she trembled, letting out a soft plaint, he could tell her orgasm was already seconds away. She grabbed his forearm to press him harder where she needed him so much.

"Please, I need..." She couldn't find the words, and he could feel her frustration.

Gently, he pushed a second finger inside of her. She was so tight that he could barely go past the first knuckles. When he pressed harder, she let out a surprised cry as her tender channel swallowed his fingers further. It was all so erotic, he worried he might spill while still wearing his breeches. He toyed with her, pulling his fingers in and out, adoring the wet sounds they made, loving the sighs he conjured from her lungs. His thumb was still actively teasing her clitoris, and he could feel the way her walls clenched around him.

"I love you, Ama," he professed, his heart so full of her.

The hand on his forearm tensed, the nails digging into his skin. A soft, shaky cry left her lips, and he felt her insides pulsate around his fingers.

In pure awe, he admired the spectacle of her orgasm. Her face was tense, her brows frowned, her nose slightly pinched, and her mouth was letting out the sweetest sounds he'd ever heard. The rest of her body was shaking, and her chest was shuddering in rhythm with her ragged breath, her breasts wiggling. Her hips were moving as if they had their own mind, as she shoved herself over and over again on his fingers. He tried to maintain her climax for as long as he could, his thumb circling the source of her pleasure, his fingers never halting the back and forth in her channel.

When the waves faded away, his touch became lighter, helping her come down.

After a moment, she opened her eyes again. With bliss in her eyes, she lifted to kiss him and then looked at him with the most euphoric smile. Now, he thought. He would ask her to marry him now.

She wouldn't refuse.

For a split second, Amalia thought she was dead and had gone to heaven. Aiden's touch, his fingers in her, was causing something to build up inside of her, a tension, something powerful. She didn't know what was happening to her, but he did. Oh, he most certainly did because he never stopped. And when this tension reached its peak, it felt as if a dam broke inside of her.

All of what he had been doing to her had been for this. Waves of pleasure, as she could never have imagined, started from his touch, his hand, to spread to her entire body. She couldn't hold back the sounds that came out of her throat, and she couldn't stop her hips from moving. For an instant that seemed to last an eternity, she wasn't in control of her body anymore. He was.

Aiden, her Aiden, was bringing her to the most blissful heights. In his arms, she felt as though she flew, losing herself into the deepest infinity.

Slowly, the waves became less powerful and Aiden's touch became lighter. With the sensations lessening, she regained her ability to think. It felt like she was waking from a deep slumber, her body weak and heavy. When she opened her eyes, she saw him admiring her with an adoring look on his face. She lifted her head to kiss him, a deep, thorough kiss, and moved back, dreamily gazing up at him.

Her mood switched when she noticed there was something off with him. He wanted to say something and was thinking of a way to say it. His visible indecision made her worry. What if he changed his mind and refused to go all the way?

Despite her innocence and uneasiness, she knew a thing or two about what happened between a man and a woman. After all, she had married friends who always felt compelled to recount their marital lives. She knew men had two brains, and one of them was very easy to manipulate.

Having found his words, Aiden spoke. "Amalia, I have something to ask—" Before he could say anything else, she moved her hand to the front of his trousers, her hand shaping the rigid form there. As she gauged its size into her palm, she couldn't hide her perplexity.

Dear God... Was all of this supposed to go inside of her? She was trying to remember what her friends had said, but she couldn't think of one mentioning the fact that it only went halfway or so. Despite her concern, she noted her maneuver worked. Aiden was speechless, his second brain taking control.

Curious, she moved her hand along the hard shape, wanting to feel the whole extent of it. Hastily, Aiden moved his hand to hers. For an instant, he pressed it harder onto his protrusion but then moved her hand away.

"Amalia, love, we have to talk first."

"We've done too much talking already." Feeling rebellious, she tried to put her other hand on him. Before her hand would reach him, he caught it firmly.

"In a minute, you spitfire. Let me just express what I have to say first."

Defeated, Amalia sighed and sat up when he released her hands. After he'd cleared his throat, he arranged her cleavage and skirts so that she would look presentable. That wasn't a good sign. Not one that indicated they would resume what they'd started.

"Amalia Romero. I wanted to ask if you would... Um..." he hesitated before clearing his throat. "Love, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?"

Amalia froze. Of all the things she was expecting, a proposal certainly wasn't one of them. Entirely disturbed by his ludicrous demand, she wordlessly stared at him. She didn't know what to say. What could she even answer to this? Where did this come from? The silence stretched, making the atmosphere around them awkward and tense. They could hear the birds, the wind in the willow's branches... A fish jumped out of the water somewhere over the lake, the splash it made easy to hear in the deafening silence.

Aiden seemed so nervous that she would have probably teased him if she hadn't been in the same state of mind.

"Say something," he pleaded.

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'?" he repeated, appalled.

"I gave myself to you. You don't have to try to win me over."

Her statement seemed to offend him. Regaining some composure, he looked down on himself, only to remember he was half-naked. His gaze moved to his shirt on the ground, then traveled to the boat that was slowly drifting away on the lake.

"Damn it. I have a ring. It is in my waistcoat."

It was Amalia's turn to be shocked. "You have been carrying a ring around? To propose to me?"

"Yes."

Amalia tried to think through the confusion, but nothing made sense. Her mind was too clogged with questions and doubts. What she needed was to get away from him, to allow herself some time to process what had just happened. With trembling limbs, she forced herself up and rearranged her dress. Her soaked bodice was hard to handle, and her trembling fingers wouldn't cooperate. His familiar hands came over hers, steady and firm. He was in front of her, a few inches away.

"Calm down and talk to me, Ama."

"Worst part is, I don't know if you're serious or making fun of me. How can you ask me something like that?"

Many women would have gladly accepted his proposal. Many of them could, but not her. She was bound by her low birth. A bohemian married to a duke? That was the joke of the century. She felt humiliated. Tears rolled down her cheeks, showing her internal turmoil.

"Please don't cry, love. It could work. I have been thinking of a plan."

"No, it couldn't. What do you think people will say when they see me? I cannot be good enough. I will never be graceful, moderate, or well-mannered. I can never be like your mother."

"Well, it's a good thing because it isn't my mother I want to marry," he explained with a pinch of humor.

"No one will ever be fooled by me."

"I don't care about the people. The only one I care about is you."

Her heart dropped in her chest. She had to think. There were a hundred reasons for her to refuse, but when he was looking at her like that, she couldn't think of a single one. Putting her hand on his jaw, she looked at him, a distraught look on her face.

"Aiden, we cannot... I can live as an outcast. I really can. But... what happens when we have children?" She paused to allow her question to hit him. When it did, a deep frown twisted his brows. Maybe he hadn't thought of everything after all. "Can you imagine the things they will have to endure? Your people will judge them before they are even born. I don't think I can live knowing I condemned my own children to this life."

He was trying to find a counter-argument, but Amalia didn't want to be here for it. If she stayed, he would eventually win. More than anything, she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. But it was impossible. Even if it would tear her heart to shreds to leave him now, it was still the safest option.

Raising on the tip of her toes, she kissed him tenderly, needing to feel whole one last time.

"I love you, Aiden," she whispered, her eyes filled with tears. "Goodbye."

Ignoring the extreme pain in her chest, she walked away from him, holding back her sobs.

The chapter's song is romantic, and beautiful, and nuanced, and light, and sometimes not... Go check out Sonata in D Minor, K.9, by Domenico Scarlatti.