Henry curled himself to kiss her lips, bending so their mouths were level while still joined. “Use me, El. Find your pleasure with me. I won’t move.”
“I won’tuseyou,” she said against his lips. “I can’t bear it if you don’t move. I need you to—to come.”
Henry chuckled. “I don’t think I can hold back, not with you.”
Was she special somehow? Irresistible in some way?
She let the notion take root, spreading its vines and fortifying her as she put her hands to his hips, encouraging him to rock deeper inside her. “Like this,” she murmured as sparks of pleasure coursed through her body. “I like it like this.”
Likewas far too weak a word, did not come close to describing what overtook her.
“I love it like this, Henry.”
He groaned, low and deep as he thrust harder, faster, her clitoris rubbing against his pelvis, sending shockwaves through her as she held him, wanting more and less and everything at once.
“I love it too, Ellie, I love—”
Her climax poured through her, a volcanic eruption liquefying her into a puddle of nerves and molten pleasure as she pulsed around him. She felt the sudden loss as he grunted and pulled from her, the heat of his release spilling against her hip and stomach before he flopped to her side, his arm stretched across her chest possessively.
Sounds from the street drifted in through their open window, mixing with the breeze, lifting the gauzy curtains into the room. Strains of the accordion, the dulcet voice singing folk songs that, even though she didn’t understand the words, carried emotional weight and worth. Laughter and the clinking of glasses, as though the people below were celebrating what had just taken place above. As though they too knew her world had just changed.
So this is what it feels like. Ellie couldn’t defineit, because it was stronger than happiness or contentment or pleasure. It was all of them wrapped in a ball and dipped in chocolate. It was the past and the future and the verynow, the essence of who she was and wanted to be. Love, as she had always understood, was too simple a word, too weak to evoke what happened as she watched Henry’s chest rise and fall, the look in his eyes when he turned his head to gaze at her. His expression helditas well. And he seemed just as unable to define what had come to be between them.
Henry curled his body around hers, pressing his lips to the side of her neck in a tender kiss. “Was that what you hoped for?”
Yes. No. Now Ellie knew what she would be missing when they returned to London. She wanted a million more nights like this, but taking this step had ruined her. Loving Henry would destroy her, because she could never have him. She was too big to stand by his side, too dull to entertain him. Too barren to give him the family he wanted. For all his affection and care, she would never be enough for him.
“I need to clean up,” she said, pushing out of his arms and leaving the bed, dragging the sheet with her.
Henry followed her, not bothering to cover himself. “Wait, let me.” But Ellie had already stopped, her eyes stuck on Henry’s desk. The scattered papers covered with his scrawl, and the neat, curling handwriting on the letter on top.
Fondly, Miss Claire Brightling
Despite the heat of Henry’s body against her back, a shudder raked down her spine and she curled in on herself, her shoulders collapsing as she fought a sob.
“El—”
Her throat tightened until she thought she might suffocate and turned to face him, arranging her features. A pity she remembered her inadequacy after she gave him the last piece of her heart. “I should go. Leave you to your letters.”
His gaze dropped to his desk and eyes widened. “I need to explain—”
“You don’t,” she interrupted, ice settling over her chest, spreading through her limbs like an insidious weed. “I wanted nothing more than a diversion. You have your obligations and I have mine.”
Henry’s expression shuttered, and he stepped away. Ellie allowed herself one last view of the muscles of his back, the messy fall of his hair, the divot just above his buttocks, as he pulled on his trousers. “My job here is done, I suppose,” he said, keeping his face turned.
Ellie wanted to speak, to tell him everything she felt for him and had for years and beg him to reconsider his marriage, to let her share his bed and his heart. But her body refused to listen to her mind, her fear and pride forming an impenetrable barrier.
No, that wasn’t true. Henry had broken through her barrier and left it in pieces at her feet. But the intimacy between them, the trust and affection and need he expressed for her… Had what they shared meant anything to him? Hadshemeant anything to him?
“You sleep here tonight,” Henry said, his voice tight. Her heart pinched. “I’ll sleep in the parlor.”
“No, I’ll go.” Shame washed over her in waves as she picked up her clothing and held it in front of her. She had slept with a man who was promised to another, had tried to claim something that did not belong to her. He had given Ellie exactly what she asked for, and damn her traitorous heart for wanting more. “Henry,” she said, her gut twisting when he looked up from his desk, his fiancée’s letter in his hand. “Thank you.”
His head bobbed the slightest bit as he set his jaw.
“It was my pleasure, Ellie.”
Chapter 23
