Page 86 of The Dangerous Love of a Rogue
She closed her eyes. His breath caressed her neck, then his lips brushed her skin. A stir of desire clasped at the juncture of her thighs.
A sound left her lips. It was grief, yet he must have heard it as pleasure as his fingers began to draw up her nightgown.
The memory of his touch whispered in ripples across her skin, and despite her broken heart and the knowledge that he was false she wanted him physically.I still love him.
His kisses brushed the skin of her neck. Her body traitorously ached for him.
His fingers touched her inner thigh.
Her arms lifted about his neck as he touched her gently.
When her lips parted on a sigh, which was pleasure, his fingers stroked deeper. His lips touched the corner of her mouth, asking her to turn her head and kiss him back. She felt like weeping as she did, so physically happy, and yet so heart sore.
She was his, no matter that he would never wholly be hers.
He moved over her and his flesh became her flesh as they joined, his palms pressing into the bed either side of her so he did not rest too heavily on her.
The cloth of her nightgown caressed her breasts as he moved, while the tails of his shirt brushed against her stomach and her thighs.
‘I love you,’ he whispered. ‘I swear that I do. With all my heart, I love you.’
Lies.
The way he moved and touched her felt like love.
It was a physical lie too.
She held his shoulders and prayed for this to end – or begin – to reach the escape of ecstasy.
Guilt pressed its short, sharpened knife into her heart, because she still enjoyed the sensations he could trigger in her body. He’d accused her of wanting nothing of him now. He was wrong. She wanted everything from him. She wanted everything he said to be real.
The look in his eyes appeared like tenderness and devotion.
She desperately wanted to believe it.
‘I adore you. I will forever worship you.’
Lies.
Her fingers held his hips. Lean muscles worked beneath his skin as he entered and withdrew. She broke in half, body and soul separating, as her senses soared and burst, trembling in release…
31
Mary’s wet heat surrounded Drew as her inner muscles contracted, grasping for his seed. He broke straight after her. It was becoming a pattern of their encounters. Every muscle locked. He shut his eyes and let ecstasy sweep over him, its intensity burned like lit brandy in his blood, the flame flickering through his nerves. It even smothered the pain of his broken rib, which had clawed at his side while he’d moved.
They were made for one another. Sex had never been like this for him.
He opened his eyes, only to see a tear run from her left eye.
Her lower lip quivered. She caught it between her teeth.
He could not breathe. She was crying. The mist of sexual lust left him, and cold emptiness replaced it.
She had been enjoying their intercourse, had she not? She had reached the little death.
He withdrew from her, turning away, not knowing what to say.
He said the only thing he knew, glancing back at her. ‘I love you, Mary.’ But he heard uncertainty in his voice.
