Page 91 of The Last Chance
This was love.
A bond too strong to break.
She climaxed again, her muscles milking his cock. The primal urge to pound hard had him quickening the pace, sinking into her so fast the bed creaked beneath them. He wanted to spend inside her, pour everything of himself into her.
“God, you have no idea how much I love you,” he cried.
He didn’t care who heard them as he raced towards release. He didn’t care that his guttural groan rang through the room as he came violently over her abdomen.
Nothing mattered but knowing Joanna loved him.
Chapter Eighteen
Joanna couldn’t sleep. She lay in Aaron’s warm arms, absently stroking his chest and listening to the patter of rain on the windowpane. She had spent the last hour counting her blessings, not sheep. While her life had crumbled around her like a neglected ruin, she had fallen in love.
Deeply in love.
Her heart skipped a beat when she looked at him. A lock of ebony hair hung rakishly over his brow. Long, dark lashes rested against his cheeks. The soft, steady murmur of his breath spoke of a man in peaceful repose, not one plagued by demons.
Love was like medicine. A means to mend a damaged heart.
It was a lot like opium, too.
The need for more, a sweet form of addiction.
She cast her gaze around the room, feeling content.
Everything about Aaron’s bedchamber—a masculine space befitting the owner of a notorious gaming hell—reminded her of him. The rich mahogany panels spoke of brooding elegance. Thick velvet curtains hid the world beyond, hinting at the private man no one knew.
You only know one part of me, he had said.
It was a warning. A warning to guard her heart and keep her distance. But it was too late. She wanted him in every way a woman wanted a man—as a friend and lover, her husband and father of her children. A lifelong companion.
The real question was: could she be his lover indefinitely? Could she accept not being his wife and never having a family?
Because one fact remained.
If they married, he would protect her with his life.
No one would be more important.
“A penny for your thoughts,” he said, his voice husky from sleep. “I can almost hear the cogs whirring.”
She ran her hand over the hard ridges of his abdomen. “It’s nothing. I was contemplating the road ahead, though one would think I’d be used to dealing with uncertainties.”
He trailed his fingers over her upper arm in featherlike strokes. “Once we’ve dealt with the threat, I’ll hire an investigator to find your father,” he said, mistaking the cause of her anxiety. “I’ll pay Daventry to help determine what happened to your brother.”
Did he think Gabriel had left a stone unturned?
The marquess had spent ten years searching for the truth.
“Justin is dead. His body is interred at St Michael’s churchyard.”
“Then why the confusion? Rothley is adamant he’s alive.”
She didn’t want to dredge up the ghosts of the past. If Justin was alive, he didn’t want to be found. “We were unable to identify his body. The coroner based the decision on his hair and clothes, height and build. There was evidence to suggest he had met someone. He was found at a secret hideout deep in the woods.”
Aaron was quiet for a moment. He pressed a tender kiss to her hair and said, “I’m sorry. I can imagine how painful losing a sibling must be.”
