Page 11 of Mine This Winter
“God, Gwendolyn. Do you mean to see me in Bedlam?” He was panting hard, kissing her wildly. “Tell me you’ve touched yourself and thought of me. Hell, I’ve come so many times with your name on my lips.”
Cool air breezed over her legs as he slid his hand up her bare thigh. Yes! This was what she wanted. Not polite conversation. Not compliments about her musical ability. But the burning heat of desire. The touch of a man who made her mindless with need.
“I only ever think of you,” she whispered.
“Do you remember the last time I did this?” He slipped his fingers over her damp folds, rubbing lightly over her sex.
“I—I remember everything.” Lord, her knees almost buckled.
“Touch me, Gwendolyn. Like you used to.”
She dared to touch him.
He was solid, hard as steel.
As her fingers moulded around the thick length in his trousers, he kissed her, moaned in her mouth, massaged her sex and slipped his long fingers inside her.
She stroked him through the material, tried to maintain a steady rhythm, but her climax ripped through her. She came apart as she always did—with one man’s name on her lips.Simon!
CHAPTER 4
The muscles in Gwendolyn’s core clenched around his fingers. She was panting, her breasts heaving. They might have been lying on a picnic blanket deep in the woods or hiding in the orangery and stealing every second of pleasure. Instead, they were in Payne’s blasted bedchamber, Simon’s fingers buried deep inside her, his cock ramrod stiff.
He met her gaze, the need to make love to her urging him to lay her down and drive home. “How does it feel, Gwendolyn?” He pushed a little deeper into her wetness, relishing her sensual gasp. “Like I’ve never been away? Like you need my touch now more than ever?” Were their thoughts aligned?
She closed her eyes as he pumped his fingers slowly. He brushed his lips over hers and slipped his tongue into her mouth to tease a reaction.
He wanted an explanation. He wanted a bloody apology. More than that, he wanted to make her come again. He wanted to lose himself in the body of the only woman he had ever loved.
The spy was probably down on the beach selling secrets, while Simon was afraid to move from Payne’s room in case Gwendolyn cast him aside again.
“Talk to me,” he urged. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Though he wanted her, he couldn’t trust her.
He’d never trust her again.
A single tear slipped down her cheek. She opened her eyes, the power of her gaze holding him captive. “That I’m dreaming. That some part of you still wants me after all that has occurred.”
Because he was a fool.
A fool who couldn’t resist her.
“And you still want me.” He stroked her clitoris with his thumb. She was a slave to his will, grateful for every sweet morsel of pleasure. “More desperately than you did before.”
“It’s like we’re both starving.”
“I’ve been ravenous for years.”
“Then why leave?”
The image of her taunting him that night charged into his mind. The cruel things she’d said. The way she’d tossed him out like the dinner scraps.
With the sting of bitterness rising in his chest, he snatched his hand from under her skirt. “You made your feelings clear five years ago. Perhaps you take pleasure in toying with a gentleman’s affections. Is that why you remain unmarried?”
Her eyes widened—eyes he’d once presumed would never lie. Eyes no longer glazed with desire but clouded with hurt. “I told you I’d fallen in love with you. How was that toying with your affections?”
Was she being deliberately obtuse?
