Page 71 of The Last Chance
“Then why are we still talking?” She smiled whileclambering to undo the buttons on his waistcoat, her hands quick to roam under his fine lawn shirt and feel the sumptuous heat of his skin. “If I’m too much for you, you must tell me to stop,” she teased.
“I uttered the same words the first time we kissed. Now it’s clear our passions are perfectly entwined.” He captured her chin, his fevered breath stroking her lips. “When I’m alone at night, I shall let this memory move languidly through my mind, but I’m on fire. I need to be inside you. I need to take you slowly, and thrust hard and deep. I need you against the door, on your back, on your knees, sitting astride me.”
A shiver of delight chased down her spine. “Then get me out of these clothes. I don’t want the beast to behave. I want all of you. Hold nothing back.”
Their next kiss cried of desperation, a rampant mating of mouths, of shared moans and breathless pants. A ravenous hunger she knew would never be sated.
How did one convey a lifetime of need without words?
Aaron knew how.
He dragged his lips over her jaw and neck like he couldn’t bear to break contact, like they were joined together forever and nothing could tear them apart. Despite attempting to undo the side buttons on her dress, his eager hand wandered, palming her breast, pushing into her hair and tilting her head back. He kissed the column of her throat, reached under her skirts to grip her bare buttocks, squeezing hard to leave his mark.
You’re mine.
Those possessive words echoed through every action.
It was like an erotic dream where time stood still.
But they didn’t have such luxury.
She took control, her fingers moving to the placket of his trousers, resisting the temptation to stroke the thick shaft bulging against the material. She wanted to touch his erection, feel hisbare skin, hold the power of his pulsing arousal in her palm. She wanted the great Aaron Chance at her mercy.
He inhaled sharply when she freed his manhood. “If you touch me, I’m done for. Do you know how many times I’ve imagined this moment?”
“Too many,” she breathed, daring to take hold of him. His skin was soft, a veil of satin over steel. Despite his immense strength, he surrendered to the pleasure gained from every inexpert stroke. “You were done for when you entered the room,” she said, his musky scent a silent call to her sex. “You were done for when you agreed to let me stay at Fortune’s Den.”
“I was finished long before that.”
“When?” she demanded to know, loving how he groaned when she firmed her grip. Touching him was so addictive she couldn’t stop. “Tell me, Aaron.”
“The first night I saw you brushing your hair at your bedchamber window. The first time you put me in my place. The first time you touched me accidentally. When your hand brushed my arm and it was like a jolt from the heavens.”
Stubborn man, she uttered silently.
What if Eloise had never confessed?
“You’ve wanted me for that long?” she whispered, noting the tiny bead of moisture weeping from the engorged head of his shaft. She imagined it was the only tear Aaron Chance had ever shed. “And you said nothing?”
He responded now, his mouth forming a perfect O as his head fell back, exposing the sculpted line of his jaw. There was a tiny scar she had not noticed before, from a previous wound that had never fully healed, but he was no less magnificent.
“Joanna,” he growled, stilling her hand. “If I come now, I’ll need time to recover, time we can ill afford.” He looked at her, his eyes deep, inky pools of longing. “Before we continue, I need to know you want this just as badly, that you’re not afraid.”
“Afraid?” As soon as the word left her lips, a haunting visionof Lord Howard assailed her. The memory of his sickly scent turned her stomach, even now.
The betrayal hurt more than anything. She had replayed the scene in her mind a thousand times, those precious seconds where he’d hugged her tightly, and she had been utterly clueless of the horror about to unfold.
Had she missed the signs?
Had she said something he had misconstrued?
Had grief made him lose his mind?
Was it a calculated attack or an impulsive mistake?
For a long time afterwards she felt numb, weak, half a person paralysed by her thoughts, but soon realised Lord Howard was a feeble excuse for a man. A pathetic creature who would one day get his comeuppance.
Now he had. What a shame she had not witnessed him draw his last breath, to watch the light in his eyes dim, to apologise for the crime and explain she could do nothing to help.
