Page 34 of Lord Ramsey's Red-Headed Ruin
She stared up at him. “Let me,” she begged him. “Please let me kiss you. I yearn…”
His face went lax with want, his eyes shimmering with hunger in the translucent light of the moon.
“I want you, Ram. I do.”
He did not budge, but waited as she smiled at him, two tears running down her cheeks, and stretched up to claim him once more.
His lips were sublimely warm and firm, his mouth as wide and as generous as she’d imagined. He tasted of red wine and smelled of citrus and sweat. He held her with urgent passion, and shook with a raw hunger that shocked her.
This was real, right—Ram was hers.
Chapter Nine
They ran likechildren to the house, hand in hand, up the stairs, down the hall to their rooms. Each step jogged more and more sense into him.
He reached their door first, flung it open, and whirled her inside.
She was laughing as he slammed the door shut and fell back against it, drawing her toward him.
She danced forward, a vision from heaven. In the flickering candlelight from the wall sconces, she fluttered before him like an angel in that pale-blue gown.
How could he do this with her? He’d be a cad to take her when he was here only to keep her safe.Even from me.
Her smile died as she gazed at him, knowledge of his rejection in her eyes. “You question this.”
He shook his head, frowning, then cupped her gorgeous face in both his hands. “It has consequences.”
“Yes,” she whispered, mashing her supple body to his in an urgent plea. In her undulations, he nearly went to his knees as his cock pressed hard and hot against her belly. “Pleasure.”
“Pregnancy.”
She blinked, surprise in her eyes. “No, I—”
“I want you too much, and I fear I will not be so controlled with you that I can stop when I should. Even then, it may not be enough.”
Desperation on her face, she grabbed his cravat and twisted the ends in her fingers. “You don’t need to stop.”
“I do!” he growled. “If you were pregnant, do you think I’d want you to remain in France wandering, waiting for one night, one morning, when Vaillancourt finds you?”
“I don’t wait for him.”
“What for, then? Eh?” He clutched her, giving her a little shake. “Pregnant, mine or not, you won’t leave France!”
She gave him the endearing smile of a woman who wanted to be ravished. “He cannot find me. Cannot have me. I am with you.”
“Oh, my darling.” He shook his head, his heart drowning in a sea of misery. “Be sensible. I am your guard, your protector. I am vigilant, but if he finds us, he can be wily, unpredictable. I am no fool, my sweet woman—and, at best, only one man to fight off dozens. Nor am I a tyrant to force you against your will to leave France. Not even, God help me, a magician to spirit you away with a snap of my fingers!”
She tugged him closer, her hard nipples boring into his chest, evidence of her desire for him.
Hopeless, he could not pull away.
“Sweet Ram.” She cupped his cheek. “Fear not. Have me as you will. You cannot make me pregnant.”
He winced, confused. “That is exactly—”
“No, Ram.” She combed his hair from his furrowed brow. “Listen to me. I cannot have children.”
“But you said you had been pregnant.”
