Page 30 of Touched By a Traitor
“I’ve tried so hard to forget,” she continued, the words tumbling out like water through a broken dam. “I’ve told myself a thousand times that we were impossible, that our dreams could never align. But seeing you again, working beside you, pretending I don’t feel what I’ve always felt—it’s killing me.”
For a moment that stretched like eternity, they simply stood, breathing hard as years of denial and longing crackled between them like lightning about to strike.
Suddenly, he was everywhere—his warmth enveloping her like a summer storm, the comfort of his embrace making her head spin with long-denied desire. Andrew’s arms tightened around her body, his large hands spanning her waist with a possessive grip that made her knees weaken. The hard planes of his chest pressed against her back, every inch of him solid muscle and barely restrained power. When he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his lips brushing her skin with devastating tenderness, Charlotte’s breath caught in her throat.
“Stop pretending,” he whispered, his thumb brushing away her tears. “Stop running from what we both know is still there.”
Charlotte leaned back against him despite every rational thought screaming at her to step away. “Andrew, we can’t. Too much has changed. Too much stands between us.”
“Has it?” His other hand found her cheek, turning her face toward him until barely a breath separated them. “Because right now, in this moment, it feels like nothing has changed at all.”
His lips were so close she could feel his breath against hers, could see the gold flecks in his dark eyes that had haunted her dreams. “If I kiss you,” she whispered, “I won’t be able to pretend anymore. I won’t be able to go back to the way things were.”
“Then don’t,” he said, his voice rough with need. “Don’t go back. Don’t pretend. Just… be here. With me. The way you were meant to be.”
His hot breath came shallow and labored against her neck, sending shivers cascading down her spine. The rasp of his evening stubble scraped deliciously against her sensitive skin as he traced a path from her shoulder to her ear, each kiss warmer and more urgent than the last.
“God help me,” she breathed against his lips, “but I’ve missed you so much.”
Their mouths met in a kiss that was six years of longing distilled into a single, searing moment.
The subtle bite of his teeth, followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue, drew a helpless whimper from her lips. His fingers pressed into her stays, the rough calluses of his hands catching on her gown. She could feel the thundering of his heart against her back, matching her own frantic pulse. She clutched desperately at his forearms, her body arching into him of its own accord.
Charlotte reached behind her and gripped his thigh, thick and hard like marble. He brought one foot forward to position her deeper between his legs, pressing his throbbing length against her backside. With a moan, she began to grind against him, the ridge of his arousal digging into her with a delicious ache.
“I’ve missed you,” he breathed, his voice low and rough with desire.
A whimper escaped her throat as her body purred with relief. Finally, after countless lonely nights dreaming of his warm embrace and the safety of his protection, she was in his arms once more.
Her hand tugged at her skirts, lifting the layers, then finding her heat swollen and wet. She began to pleasure herself, gently stroking her aching bud as he had taught her all those years ago.
“Christ, Charlotte…” he groaned, caressing the cleft of her quim with his long finger while she continued her self-ministration.
“Andrew… I ache…” she breathed.
His breathing grew shallower as the tip of his finger entered her cunny, her muscles clasping it greedily. A husky grunt left his throat.
Sliding back and forth inside her, he stroked and eased the throbbing. Charlotte turned her head and kissed him until her moans reverberated in his mouth. She stroked her swollen bud faster, harder—Andrew’s finger keeping pace with her.
“Andrew… deeper… please,” she breathed. “I’m close…”
“Come for me, darling. Come around my finger,” he grunted, his breath coming in shallow pants.
As the arousal accumulated, Charlotte rode his finger, moving her hips to deepen the penetration. Sensing her need, he gave her more, burrowing into her silken flesh, his breaths quickening in her ear. With one sharp inhale, she stilled as her orgasm broke, her inner muscles pulsing fiercely around his digit. She muffled her scream of pleasure by biting onto his arm while her body trembled with the force of her release.
“Charlotte,” he hissed through clenched teeth, then stiffened abruptly, his breath catching in his chest. With a sharp exhale, he lurched against her, pressing his pulsing manhood hardagainst her ass. As his draughts of air slowed and his muscles began to relax, he removed his finger slowly from her quim. Barely able to stand on her shaking legs, Charlotte leaned her forehead against the cool wood of the door. Her hand reached for his, wanting his arms to tighten around her, but Andrew withdrew, releasing her completely.
The chill surrounded her once more, raising gooseflesh on her sensitive skin. Her mind thrashed against the cold. She wanted him, wanted the warmth and comfort of his embrace.
She turned around and froze at the darkened spot in front of his breeches. A snort of laughter escaped before she could stop it. But as the humor faded, reality crashed back—what had they done? What did this mean?
“Are you all right?” he asked, schooling his features to collect his scattered dignity.
“Perfectly,” she managed, though her gaze remained pointedly fixed on his breeches. “Well. That’s certainly… obvious.”
Andrew winced. “Ah. Yes. Well.” He cleared his throat. “Do I owe you an apology? I must admit, I don’t regret what happened, although my valet may feel differently.”
Charlotte pressed her lips together, fighting another laugh. “Your poor valet. Does he often have to attend to such incidents?”
