Page 88 of Touched By a Traitor
She turned to head back inside, her heart heavy with the burden of their parting. She had taken but a few steps when she felt his strong arms envelop her from behind, drawing her back against the solid warmth of his chest.
“Charlotte,” he whispered, his voice cracking with raw emotion. “I cannot bear to let you go. The thought of living without you by my side is too much to endure. My love for you consumes me, body and soul. I know my actions were unforgivable, but I beseech you—do not condemn me to a life of misery. Please, I implore you, stay a while longer. Grant me a month to prove my devotion and to regain your trust.”
Charlotte closed her eyes, her resolve wavering as she felt the heat of his embrace, the strength of his hold both comforting andunsettling. As if sensing her inner turmoil, he tightened his arms around her. Summoning her courage, she spoke the words she knew must be said.
“I suffer as you do. I loved you deeply and wished nothing more than to be a good and faithful wife. But it is clear now that we are ill-suited. You must find a wife willing to devote herself wholly to your needs and those of your household. With your connections and influence, I have no doubt you shall secure an annulment on the grounds of your wife’s abandonment.”
“Damn it, Charlotte,” he growled, his sudden vehemence startling her as he spun her to face him. Cradling her face in his hands, he searched her eyes desperately, silently pleading for mercy. “It is you I love, and you alone. Since the day we met, no other woman has captured my thoughts or stirred my heart. There can be no other.”
He raised his arm and pointed to the lights. “This, all this, was for you. I pored over these lights to distract my incessant longing, to stay connected to you since our very first meeting. Come. I’ll show you.”
Charlotte turned her gaze to the sky as she followed his gesture, but from their position in the garden, she could only see scattered points of light. When Andrew took her hand, his fingers trembling with urgency, she didn’t resist.
“From here, you cannot see…” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Please, Charlotte. Let me show you what I’ve carried in my heart all these years.”
He led her inside, his long strides purposeful yet careful not to outpace her completely. They moved through the dimly lit corridor, Andrew’s hand a warm anchor as he guided her up the grand staircase. One flight, then another, then a third, their footsteps echoing softly in the sleeping house. Charlotte’s heart hammered against her ribs, not from the exertion, but from thedesperate hope in Andrew’s eyes and the promise of revelation that awaited.
Finally, he stopped before the large windows overlooking the garden, his breathing slightly labored. With gentle hands, he positioned her beside him and gestured toward the view below.
“Now,” he whispered. “Now you can see.”
Slowly, she registered what she was seeing and gasped. Charlotte’s heart raced, pounding against her ribcage as a whirlwind of emotions surged through her. She stood transfixed, her eyes wide with wonder and disbelief as she took in the sight before her. The twinkling lights, arranged with such care and precision, spelled out her name—Charlotte—a declaration of love that took her breath away. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the stunning display, because he had pined for her and because of the dream that would never be realized.
But perhaps she could dare to dream for one night. One more night before she released him forever from her heart.
In a fleeting moment of reckless abandon, she stood on her toes and kissed him, brushing her lips over his, side to side. He stood frozen for a moment in a stunned silence, then captured her mouth with his, pouring every ounce of his longing into the heated kiss. Charlotte found her body responding to his ardent attentions, a breathless moan escaping her lips.
Andrew claimed her mouth, swallowing her gasp of surprise as he slanted his lips over hers. His tongue delved deep, stroking and tangling with her own until she was dizzy with need, sparks of pleasure shooting down her spine. Charlotte surrendered to the onslaught of sensation, her hands fisting in his shirt, tugging frantically to feel the heat of his skin against her palms.
Removing his housecoat, his mouth never leaving hers, he draped it over Charlotte’s shoulders. She opened his shirt and ran her hands over the hard muscles of his torso. Andrewcupped her bottom in his hands and pressed her against him before walking backward into a dark room.
Charlotte followed, running a hand firmly over his erection, eliciting a grunt and ragged breaths. The air in the room was cool against her heated skin, carrying the faint scent of leather and ink that marked it as his private domain. When his back met a table, Andrew’s hand squeezed her breast over the night rail, his thumb brushing over the taut nipple. She desperately sought the buttons on his falls.
Charlotte opened the third button and gripped the source of her incessant craving. A sigh of relief left her lips as she took liberties she had been yearning for since their separation. His member was hot and rigid, the veins pulsing under her fingers. Gripping it firmly, she began to stroke.
“Sweetheart…” he panted against her mouth and steadied her hand. “I need to taste you.”
With that, he lifted her onto the table, nudging her to lie back with her knees bent. Andrew pushed the hem of her shift to her waist. Feeling shy against his intense scrutiny, she closed her knees together, but he gently pushed them apart, his breathing and eyelids becoming heavier.
His gaze met hers, fire blazing within them, then he knelt on the rug.
Sliding his arms beneath her thighs, he gripped her hips firmly, and his mouth dove into her wet heat. He latched on to her sensitive bud, licking her and feeling her swell under his tongue. She could feel her arousal drip down her thighs when he rewarded her with groans from deep in his chest.
As she stiffened and whispered his name with her thighs squeezing tight, Andrew entered her heat with his tongue, licking and caressing. The orgasm peaked sharply under his skilled attention, causing Charlotte to gasp at the intensity. She muffled her scream with her fist and rode his mouth until waveafter wave of her peak carried her into euphoria. When her climax settled, Andrew rose to his feet with his hard shaft in his hand.
“Not like this,” she whispered.
Resting his member against her entrance, Andrew gently asked the painful question. “Is this how Wilson took you?”
Her eyes widened, then tears flowed. He didn’t ask anymore. Instead, he peered into her eyes with tenderness.
“My love, I’m not he, and he’ll never touch you again. This is me, your husband. Let me love you this way.” Despite his throbbing manhood, he waited patiently.
“Yes,” she said weakly.
“Keep your eyes on me, Charlotte. This is me loving you.”
Andrew eased into her heat, inch by tortuous inch, his gaze locked on her face. A guttural sound, part groan, part sigh, rumbled low in his throat as her silken walls enveloped him, drawing him deeper.
