Page 72 of From Duke Till Dawn
She stared at him.
“I’d rather be here with you now, knowing everything, than live in some misguided paradise.” He drained the last of his drink and set the glass on a table. He took two more steps toward her. A hunter steadily approaching.
His chest rose and fell quickly. She wasn’t alone in her nervousness and excitement. For all his steadiness and attitude of being in command, he didn’t know what was to follow, either.
“As a child,” she said suddenly, picking up a little ebony notions box, “I never had a toy or a doll. Well, I did, but then my Da was put in the Marshalsea, and all my toys were stolen by other children. I’d go hunt them down and grab them back, but the others just kept taking them away. It was the same when I lived in Southwark. Couldn’t get attached to something—a piece of ribbon, a shiny bead—because somebody else would snatch it away and I’d cry, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.”
She gazed steadily at him. “I went to bed with you in Cheltenham because I wanted something formyself. And no one could take that away from me. I wantedyou.My own handsome, honorable hero. A man who, in less than a fortnight, gave me more than anyone else ever did. The memory of you would be mine for always.”
He was solemn, profound. “Yet you left before I woke.”
“I had to.” She set the box down and stood before the fire, her gaze fixed on the changing, always-moving flames. “My life is made up of lies. If I had stayed, I would have started believing them. But eventually, the truth would come out. And then...” She followed a spark rising up from the burning wood, until it vanished. “I’m used to loss. Yet to give away a piece of myself, and then have it thrown back in my face... I can survive a great deal, but not that.”
She felt his warmth and solidness at her back. She hadn’t heard him move to her—he’d been silent as a cat. His hands curved over her shoulders. He trailed hot kisses along the exposed flesh at her throat and neck, and she leaned back into him.
“I will never force you,” he whispered against her skin. His hands stroked up and down her bare arms. “But I want you so much. It makes me strong and it makes me weak. I could tear down the city with how much I want you. From the moment I saw you in Cheltenham to now. All I’ve ever needed is the feel of you, the taste of you.”
Acute hunger gripped her, wringing her like a rag. Her legs shook, and she had to rest against him to keep herself standing. Surely, her heart would break free from its cage if he kept talking, kept touching her.
She turned to face him. He cupped the back of her head, holding her in place, as he continued to kiss her throat. She held fast to his biceps, feeling them flex and tighten beneath her touch.
Morning continued to press against the curtains. The day moved forward. Everything moved forward, no matter how she might wish the world to stand still.
Yet tomorrow didn’t matter. All that signified was now. This moment. She should have known from her rough life that she had to grab what she wanted with both hands and hold tight. There was a very good chance that whatever it was she cherished would be ripped away. But wasn’t it better, so much better, to have felt pleasure than to have known nothing but absence? There was time enough for loneliness and loss. It came regardless of what she did. These moments had to be seized and treasured, especially because they were so brief.
No more denial. No more chases. This belonged to her.
She released her grasp on his arms. Bringing up her hands, she threaded her fingers through his hair and pulled his head up to have her gaze meet his. Alex’s eyes glittered darkly, like an animal on the night of a full moon. His breath came fast and labored.
“Don’t tell me to stop,” he rasped.
“I want more,” she answered, and pulled his head down for a kiss.
Chapter 15
Her lips pressed to his, and he opened his mouth to let her in. Her tongue swept in, finding his, and they stroked and lapped at each other, tasting, discovering, claiming. A low growl of approval sounded deep in his chest at her boldness. She felt no shame, only want and fierce, uncompromising demand. Desire was fast and devastating.
She released his head to claw at his clothing, wanting him naked beneath her touch.
“Not yet,” he murmured. “Not yet.”
“Now,” she insisted.
“There’s something I want first.”
“Anything,” she said, uncaring what his stipulation might be.
He pulled back, and at once she missed the feel of his hard, lean body against hers. But he took her hands, and with a wicked, promising look, led her to one of the chairs by the fire. She frowned as he gently sat her down in the chair.
“What—”
But he raised a finger to his lips. “I’m going to take care of you.”
“I can—”
He held up a hand, asking for her silence and compliance. “Prepare yourself.”
She didn’t see how that could be possible, with her every nerve alight and her body smoldering for his touch. Yet she leaned back and watched with puzzled amusement as he knelt at her feet.
