Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97740 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 489(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
‘I am fine,’ I assure him, dizzy with pleasure.
And he starts to move, slowly at first, stretching me again, but his pace soon increases and as our pleasure builds, so does the urgency for us both to reach that incredible place at the end of this path. Pound after pound, he gives it to me, and cry after cry, I accept it. He looks at me, his stare unmoving, as our bodies bang and clash. My vision starts to fog and his face becomes distorted, and when it hits me between my thighs, comparable only to a cannonball striking me there, my knees become weak and my legs wobbly so I can no longer hold myself up.
‘Dear God,’ I whisper, flopping against him. ‘I…’ I just manage to hold my tongue before I say something I may regret.
‘You what?’ he pants, still swelling inside me, pinning me against the wall with his hard body.
‘Nothing,’ I whisper.
‘It is not nothing,’ he says, looking down at me and nuzzling, encouraging my face from where it is hiding in his chest. ‘Tell me, Eliza. Speak the words you dare not say, because I need to hear them.’
‘Why?’ I whisper.
‘I need to hear them.’
He needs. He knows what I want to say and he needs to hear it. But why, when he has persistently told me not to love him? Maybe not outright, but in his own way. I stare at him, not knowing the outcome of this, not knowing what impact my words will have, but I must say them. I must tell him. I would hate to live with the regret of not expressing what he means to me. He means freedom. Happiness. Light. ‘I love you,’ I say quietly, almost nervously. ‘I have tried, but I cannot stop myself from loving you, and I know not where that leaves me. In hell, I suppose. I don’t know, but it is a rather unpleasant notion to think that you could never love me back.’
His smile is sad, and he kisses me on my forehead, breathing me deeply into him. ‘I have a confession,’
My heart sinks. Oh God. I should have kept my stupid mouth shut. ‘If you are considering telling me that you have had dalliances with a certain resident of Belmore Square since enticing me into your bed, then you are wasting your breath. I already know.’ I gently push him back again, and I wince when he slips free from me. ‘I need not a reminder of your rakish ways, but I suppose I ought to be grateful, since your encounter with her proves you are not responsible for the death of Mr Porter.’
‘Oh Christ,’ he mutters. ‘I was not with Miss Dare, Eliza. I was with you the night Porter was murdered, but I couldn’t very well share that, unless, of course, you want every member of the ton to know and judge.’ His head tilts, and my mouth falls open.
‘You weren’t?’
‘No.’ He scowls at me. ‘I’ve not shared my bed with another because, rather unfortunately, I have been unable to think of much more than our night.’
What is that inside? Satisfaction? Happiness? ‘Really?’
‘Yes, really. And…’
‘And?’ I ask, my heart soaring.
‘And, Miss Melrose,’ he says, his shoulders dropping, his hand raking through his unruly hair. ‘Unfortunate as it is, how could I not love you?’
My heart squeezes. Does that mean he does? I’m scared to ask. But I must. For my sanity, I must. ‘Does that mean…?’ My lips press together as my hope soars.
‘I love you.’
Something inside bursts. I think it might be my heart with happiness. ‘You love me?’
‘Yes, so you may,’ he says, waving a hand flippantly, ‘do what I expect you’re positively bursting to do.’
I expect he expects me to squeal and throw myself into his arms. I could, but I won’t. ‘I am bursting to kiss you,’ I whisper.
His eyebrow quirks in interest. ‘Just kiss me?’
He knows I am bursting to do much more, to smother him with my mouth and drag him to the nearest bed, and he could never complain, since it is he who’s unearthed this insatiable thirst in me. Not that he would ever complain, I’m sure. And my thirst is only for him. I sigh and rest my hands upon his velvet jacket, looking up at him. ‘What are we to do?’ I ask. ‘I am to be married to another.’
He hums, thinking. ‘This needs some careful consideration.’
‘You had better hurry up, because I am due to wed in only a fortnight.’
His nose wrinkles, and he kisses me delicately on the corner of my mouth. ‘Our love affair must not be discovered.’
‘Are you suggesting we sneak around for all time?’ I pull away. Forgive me, but that felt not like careful consideration. ‘Wait. Are you suggesting I still marry Frederick and take you as a lover?’