Page 74 of Once Charmed, Twice Cursed
A few moments later, a massive weight settles atop me. I open my eyes, only it’s not Weston pinning me down. It’s Jack. Black mask and everything.
“Where’d that come from?” I say. “Didn’t you leave it behind the night you rescued me?”
“I had two. Any good highwayman always has two. Especially when he has terrible luck and is liable to lose one.”
He almost-smiles, and I melt into the expanse of his gaze. Maybe his eyes remind me of honey, after all. Because he is sweet, in a way. Sweet and biting both, and I couldn’t love the combination more. “Well,” I say. “Whatever you’re going to do to me, you should probably be quick, because my husband is around here somewhere. If he catches you, he’ll probably break a bone or two.”
“Mmm.” He angles his face to nuzzle my neck. “I hear that’s a habit of his.”
“It is.” A moan threatens to erupt, but I bite it back. “He’s already broken eight bones in my honor.”
He moves to the other side of my throat and licks, long and slow. I shiver.
“Strange,” he says, gravel rattling in his voice. “I’d heard it was twelve.”
I frown. He sucks on my neck, gently at first, then harder, until my toes curl. I force myself to concentrate. “It’s eight, by my count.”
“Then you’re forgetting the guard. At Alverton’s.”
I blink and push on his chest until he leans away. “You broke four of his bones?”
He sighs, and I almost regret asking, because my neck feels very lonely, all of the sudden. “Just three,” he says.
I do a quick mental tally. I may not be an accountant, but I can do basic arithmetic. “That’s only eleven.”
He holds my eyes for a beat. “Is it?”
My gaze thins. “Weston Jackson Wildes. What aren’t you telling me?”
A soft laugh ripples out of him. “Fortuna, I’m going to regret telling you my whole name, aren’t I?”
“Probably,” I say. “Now who was the twelfth?”
He sighs. “Cameron Hale. Four years ago. He said you had great tits. And I didn’t like that. So I hit him in the nose. It broke. The end.”
I stare. I had no idea. None. “But...Idohave great tits. So I don’t know if that was really necessary.”
He barks a startled laugh, then dives in for a kiss, which I grant him. By the time our mouths part again, we’re both breathing fast, our chests heaving in synchrony.
“I’m the only one who gets to talk about your tits, Mrs. Wildes.” Those golden eyes glint.
“All right,” I say, breathless. “That’s fair.”
“And for the record,” he adds, “I’m not going to behurrying anything tonight, vengeful husband or no. I promised we’d go slow. And you know what they say.”
“What? Hope springs eternal?”
“No.” He smirks. “Third time’s the charm.”
I search his face. At least the part of it I can see. Eventually, I’ll make him take off the mask, but for now, I want him in that and nothing else.
“Even if there are no Charms here,” he adds.
Before I can respond, he’s kissing me again. I kiss him back. And I do indeed divest him of everything but the mask.
Then we learn each other, luxuriously, with teeth and lips and fingers and tongues. And I get my wish. I find out what he tastes like.
When he finally slides into me, I’m already half-drunk and sated. Our joining is unhurried, a gentle rock of our hips I never want to end. “I love you,” he says, staring down. “I always have.”
