Page 26 of Obsession: The Unspoken Sin
She answered by moaning softly and opening her mouth for him. He didn’t claim her; he conquered her as he longed to. He thrust his tongue inside, and she was there to boldly thrust and parry against him. Their breaths, ragged and discordant, came in some kind of earthy symphony.
Denbigh dug his fingertips into the soft curve of her hip, sinking them in and massaging. He clenched and unclenched his fingers against her. “I know this is wrong, Alice,” he said between kisses. “But I have always had feelings for you.”
Her eyes, clouded and dazed with passion, struggled to lock on his face. A question quivered on her full, trembling lips, damp from his attentions and slick from his mouth. In her heated gaze, she tried to make sense of what it was he was saying. He’d fought it so long, the truth came tumbling out, and it was as though it set them both free. He expected he should be more terrified and horrified, but instead, there was a sense of absolute rightness. He’d fought his longing and love for her so long, he’d convinced himself it was the honorable thing to do. But what did it cost him? What did it cost both of them?
That is, assuming she feels for you everything you feel for her.
All he knew was that he’d fought it for so long and denied himself that which he’d wanted, the only thing that he wanted—her. And he’d been miserable for it. It was time for honesty. And he’d have a future with her if she’d allow him. Her and her daughter. Yes, he’d come here on a lie. That would have to be something he owned up to and confessed, but surely, she could forgive him.
He told himself that, all the while he moved a path of kisses down the curve of her jaw. He moved down to worship her neck in that way he’d learned only just days ago that she so loved. Denbigh guided the neckline of her dress down, easing the modest blue dress enough so that the tops of her breasts were exposed. Then he laid gentle, worshipful kisses on those generous swells.
Alice let loose a long, torture-filled moan. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she gripped him hard, anchoring him close, and he learned something new about Alice—how much she enjoyed him teasing, kissing, and playing with that flesh.
Stop this. Stop until all the truths are out.
But Denbigh was the worst of sinners. He ignored his conscience and the voice of reason on his shoulder railing at him to stop. She deserved honesty. She’d not had it with the bounder who’d broken her heart and left her in the most fragile state.
I am different though. I will give her my name. I will give her my heart. I will give her my everything.
Alice tugged the rest of her neckline down, so that her breasts were fully exposed to his worship and gaze. Then, her head bent down, looking upon him like the queen she was, the most gracious benefactress, she took his head between her hands and guided his mouth to the pebbled peak of her right breast.
I am lost.
His heart hammered, his breathing grew harsher and raspier, and he opened his mouth, then closed his lips around the turgid flesh and suckled.
He sucked and teased and lightly nipped, grazing his teeth along the sensitive flesh.
Alice cried out.
Her legs seemed to give out from under her, and she sank onto the edge of his mattress. He instantly fell at her feet and continued his adulation.
He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted any woman in his life. He craved her and hungered for her in this moment of passion, more than his lungs craved the very air he breathed. To stop would be to nearly kill him. But to continue, when not all the truths were known, would absolutely kill him—and certainly shatter her trust in him.
It took every ounce of strength within his body to stop. But somehow, he found the strength to do so. With a shuddery, shaky breath, he placed one last kiss upon the peak of each breast. His was a regret-filled apology, as he knew from the way her body quivered and the moans coming from her lips just how badly she craved this.
He looked up. Alice stared up at him with wide, half-crazed, and confused eyes. “Why did you stop?” she whispered, her chest rising and falling so quickly that each great gasping breath she took, drew Denbigh’s scoundrel’s gaze to the creamy white flesh.
Closing his eyes, he fought back a groan. “I can’t do this, Alice,” he said achingly. “We can’t do this.”
Alice’s eyes grew more desperate. “Yes, we can. You’re worried because of my brother.”
No, actually, this was the first time he hadn’t thought of Exmoor.
Reluctantly, he drew her dress back into place.
Alice must have seen something in his eyes.
“What is it?” she asked, running her gaze frantically over his face.
When she tried to stand, he urged her to remain seated and stayed on his knees.
“Alice, I have a confession to make.”
You mean you have two confessions to make. You should start with the obvious one. But you are a coward, and you are a terrible, deplorable gentleman.
And he was. For he took the coward’s way out.
Alice stared at him, then nodded slowly. “Yes?” she said.
