Page 80 of A Devil in Silk
And when it did, when she rocked her hips up to meet him, moaned softly and whispered his name like a plea, he gave her all of him.
She wrapped her legs around him, drawing him in. Her body accepted him fully now, the ache giving way to pleasure, then hunger. Their rhythm built until she was gasping beneath him, rising again, teetering on the edge.
“I can’t stop,” he panted. “I need to come. I need you to come with me.”
She was already there, clenching around him, moaning into his shoulder as her body pulsed and shuddered. His pace faltered, control slipping.
With a groan, he withdrew, stroking himself hard as he came in hot, jerking bursts across her belly. She reached for him instinctively, needing to feel him in those final moments.
He collapsed beside her, chest heaving, arm flung over his eyes.
Clara lay still, her body thrumming, the sheets damp beneath her. She thought she needed a list. A final adventure before retreating from the world. But he was all she wanted.
Not the thrill of a balloon ride or the hush of an ancient Egyptian tomb.
She would sell her soul for one more night like this.
One more chance to make love to Bentley Sommersby.
Chapter Seventeen
Clara woke to the smell of cooked ham drifting up from the kitchens and the distant clatter of carriages beyond the chamber window.
The room was dark, the heavy curtains keeping the morning light at bay. She lay beneath the covers, warm from sleep, half-expecting Signora Conti to burst in humming a playful Neapolitan love song.
But the memory of last night stole through her in a rush of heat. Bentley’s hot mouth on her skin, his body pressing her down into the mattress, how glorious it felt as he moved inside her, stretching her, filling the emptiness.
Seeking him, she pushed up onto her elbows, hair tumbling over her bare shoulders, the ache in her limbs proving it hadn’t been a dream.
But the space beside her was empty, the sheets already cool.
A chill seeped into her bones.
The most exhilarating night of her life was over. Soon, Daniel would return, and there would be no more stolen opportunities,no more secret hours where she could pretend Bentley belonged to no one but her.
Fear doused the glow in her chest. Making love to Bentley Sommersby was not something she could cross off her list. It was something she would crave again and again, until the memory of him was stitched into the fabric of her soul.
With a heaviness in her heart, she slipped from the bed, shivering as her bare feet met the polished floorboards, and dressed in yesterday’s gown. At the mirror, she fastened her hair loosely and tied the patch back into place. She would pretend to be a woman who defied convention, not one who had fallen hopelessly in love.
Taking a few tentative steps into the corridor, she paused. A soft, tinkling melody drifted through the house, delicate and wistful, a tune meant to lull a child to sleep.
Drawn by the sound, she followed it along the landing until she reached a half-open door. Sunlight caught the worn paint of wooden toys and a cradle carved with faded cherubs.
Bentley stood inside, dressed in his shirtsleeves, his broad shoulders slumped, his fingers curled around the cradle’s edge as the musical box wound to silence.
She entered the nursery, the boards creaking softly beneath her feet, hoping he welcomed the intrusion. “Bentley?”
He turned, and she faltered, struck by the change in his expression. All the warmth and tenderness she’d seen in his eyes last night was gone, replaced by a heavy sorrow. Was it regret? Would he spend forever haunted by the memory of their reckless actions? Was guilt one burden too many?
“I didn’t mean to interrupt. I heard the music and …”
He reached for her, clasping her hands. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to wake you. You looked so peaceful when you were sleeping.” His thumb brushed the back of hers, a gentler kind of intimacy than last night, when he’d held her wrists above herhead, claiming her like a captive. “It’s just the lullaby reminds me why Nightshade was right.”
“Right?” She glanced around the nursery, noticing the musty smell. Some things were faded with time while others looked almost new. “About living a miserable existence?”
He exhaled slowly. “I’ve spent a lifetime shouldering a burden that was never mine, wading through the wreckage left behind.”
She wanted to run a soothing hand over his shoulder, be the one who quieted his storms. To kiss away the weight he carried so the light in his eyes never dimmed.
