Page 105 of Once More, My Darling Rogue
“You didn’t know everything. And had I known everything, what transpired between us never would have happened. I’ve been thinking about that. Quite a bit, actually. Losing my memories for a short time was a blessing.” She placed her gloved hand on his jaw. “With them, I never would have known how it should truly be between a man and a woman. I never would have—”
Taking her hand, he began loosening the buttons of her glove. Her heart thudded. “What are you doing?”
“If you’re going to grace me with a touch, I don’t want you wearing gloves.”
“I’m not going to touch you, I’m not—”
He peeled off her glove, tossed it aside, and returned her palm to his jaw. “Much better,” he said, raising his eyes to hers.
The desire smoldering in his gaze arrowed straight through her, down to her toes, causing them to curl. And he was right. It was so much better to touch, skin to skin.
“How can you want me, knowing what you know about me?” she asked.
“The ugliness was in him, not you,” Drake said. “You are brave and courageous. Even as a child, you carried on when many would have crumbled. What passed between us in my bed had nothing at all to do with him.”
Tears stung her eyes. “I try to convince myself of that, but it’s so hard. I wish I’d never seen him again. I can’t get him out of my mind. I think I came here because I wanted the memories with you to be stronger. I need them to wash the ones with him away.”
Taking her other hand, he bent his head and gently began removing her remaining glove.
“Drake—”
“I can make you forget him.” He lifted his gaze to hers. “Allow me to do that for you.”
She shook her head slightly. “I don’t know if I can, not now that my memories have returned, not now that I know everything I’ve done.”
“Everything he did. You did nothing. I know I have no right to ask this of you, considering how we came to be here. But trust me.”
“I’m afraid.”
He skimmed his thumb along her cheek. “It will be like walking in the park that night. You thought there was something to fear but you stepped out of the cab anyway, and there was nothing to cause you harm. He can never hurt you again, Phee. He has no power over you, with or without your memories. Let me show you.”
She realized she hadn’t come here to see the floors she’d scrubbed or the wood she’d polished. She’d come here to be closer to him, to let memories of him usurp the ones with Wigmore that were threatening to take hold. But Drake in the flesh, here with her now, was so much better, so much stronger than any memory. What he was offering ... she didn’t know if she had the courage to accept it.
“What if I can’t ... what if—”
He stroked his thumb over her lower lip. “You can say no at any time and I’ll stop.” He freed the button at her collar. “Anytime you become uncomfortable. Whether it be the releasing of a button, the untying of a ribbon, you need only say no or wait or stop. Your command is mine to obey.”
Another button loosened. Another. Another. She didn’t say no or wait or stop. She simply watched as his nimble fingers made short work of the line of pearls. Her nerves tingled. She feared she might swoon.Breathe, she ordered herself,breathe.
Kneeling on one knee, he patted his thigh. Placing her hand on his head to steady herself, relishing the feel of the silken strands curling around her fingers, she set a foot on his leg. More buttons freed before he removed her shoe. His clever hands slipped beneath her skirt and rode over ankle, calf, knee, and thigh until they encountered ribbons to be loosened. Then he was rolling her stocking down so incredibly slowly that she thought she might go mad.
He moved on to the next shoe, the next stocking. No haste, no fumbling fingers. Each action was sure, deliberate. Each made her feel treasured, appreciated. Each made her anticipate the next.
In one smooth movement, he stood, took her hand, and led her over to the side of the bed. Continuing with his ministrations, he removed her dress, her petticoats, her undergarments. As more flesh was revealed so his hands briefly skimmed over it, causing shivers of pleasure to course through her. His touch was as she remembered: intoxicating. With each stroke of a finger over her skin, her body yearned for another.
When she stood before him completely bared, she thought she should have felt a measure of shame or unease, but how could she experience any sense of embarrassment when the appreciation that lit his dark eyes warmed her far more effectively than any fire might?
The pins came next, the ones holding up her hair.Clink, clink, clink. They hit the floor, setting the curls free, not in a tumble, but in a leisurely unfolding over her shoulders and back.
Scooping her up, he eased her onto the bed, before backing away. Rolling slightly to the side, she watched as he removed his boots, his gaze never leaving her. As he removed his clothes, his movements were slow, provocative, and she found herself almost begging him to hurry. She loved watching him being unveiled, loved the way his muscles bunched and relaxed. He was no strutting peacock. Rather, he was some sort of untamed jungle cat, moving lithely toward her. He had yet to remove his trousers, which for some reason made him appear all the more dangerous—not in a frightening way, but in a manner that excited her, that made her think her heart might burst free of its moorings.
The bed dipped as he placed a knee on it, as he stretched out beside her. He buried his face in the curve of her shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he rasped. “You will be as well when I am done.”
She already was. She needed this, needed him. While she could not say that she had forgiven him completely, she couldn’t deny that she was drawn to him as she’d never been drawn to another man, as she hadn’t believed shecouldbe drawn.
He nibbled on her ear and her body curled against him. He trailed his mouth along her neck, nipped at her shoulder. She scraped her fingers up into his hair. This was a memory she would cherish, that she would take out and reminisce about on long, lonely wintry nights when in the company of dogs, cats, and bunnies. These sensations—the rumbling in his throat, the vibrations in his chest—she noted them, locked them away, never to be forgotten.
Each caress, each kiss, each stroke of his tongue was unforgettable. Wedging himself between her thighs, he pressed his lips to the hollow between her breasts. Wrapping her legs around him, combing her fingers into his hair, she held him near, relishing the intimacy.
