“Philip? What’s wrong?”
He yanked his gaze to his wife,his wife, her cheeks flushed, her pupils still blown wide despite the soft glow from the lamp. The temptation of the drug would always be there, crawling beneath his skin. The only difference was now he had the strength to fight it back, to make a better choice. Lily was the reason, the panacea for the opium’s attacks on his determination. He would never go back, would never leave her alone again.
With a sharp inhale, he lifted the bottle and dropped it inside a soup tureen, then released his breath slowly through pursed lips. The craving subsided, dulled to a thrum in his chest, a tingle in his skin. “Nothing,” he said as he closed his hand around a tin of camphor salve and forced the muscles in his face to relax as he snapped the cabinet shut.
After opening the tin and setting it on the table beside her, he took her forearm in his hands. He uncuffed her sleeve and rolled the fabric up, exposing the delicate bones of her wrist and arm. The burn was an angry red slash on her otherwise unblemished skin.
“Does it hurt badly?” He dipped two fingers into the salve.
She shook her head but winced when he brought his fingers across the wound, dabbing the protective ointment in place.
“Thank you.” Her words startled him, low and bare. Honest.
He turned her wrist over and pressed a kiss to the center of her palm. She tasted like brandy and salt, spice and heat.
Her breath caught. “Philip…”
He kissed the pad of her thumb. The tips of her fore and middle fingers. Her ring finger, his lips brushing over the band he’d placed there years ago, the symbol of the bond he’d forsaken. “You still wear your ring.” He nipped the fingertip, then soothed it with a flick of his tongue.
When she spoke, her words were mere breath. “So do you.”
He pulled her smallest finger between his lips and sucked gently before releasing it. A low, needy whine sounded in her throat, and her hips shifted on the table as her knees fell open.
“I’d never take it off.” He stepped into the space she’d created, his upper thighs bumping the inside of her legs as he kissed down the length of her wrist to her elbow. His pulse thundered so violently he wondered if he’d be overcome and collapse at her feet. “I’m your husband before anything else.”
She released her lower lip, the tender flesh red and plump. “And you’ll take care of me.”
He nodded, leaning in so his nose brushed against the side of hers with the movement. She meant giving her the pleasure he’d denied her for so many years. But her words were weighted, lined with the lead of broken dreams and unmet promises. His response meant far more than what would happen in the next few minutes.
Their lips were so close the air between them crackled. “I’ll always take care of you.”
“Will you?” Her eyes glistened, moisture gathering on her lower lashes. “Do you promise?”
He tensed his hands on her hips, tugging her the slightest bit to the edge of the table. His cock, hard and ready, pressed against the fastenings of his trousers, and the friction drew a moan to his lips.
Leaning close, he brushed his lips against the skin beneath her ear and watched goosebumps erupt in his wake. He whispered words he’d vowed at their wedding but broke within a day. “I promise.”
She leaned back to meet his gaze, her hand in his hair pulling him close,so close,her mouth nearly touching his.
When I kiss you properly, it will mean forever.
She pulled in a trembling breath, as though frightened by what she was about to do.
Hell, it terrified him, too.
And she kissed him.
Chapter 13
Lilyhadforgottenwhatit was like to kiss her husband.
More accurately, she’d never allowed herself to revisit the memory of his lips. How he sipped from her mouth like he was tasting the sweetest nectar, how he explored with his tongue and left her breathless and wanting.
But now he followed her lead and welcomed the sweet caress of her lips against his for a moment before pulling back to meet her gaze, the question clear in the arch of his brow.
She knew what the kiss meant to him, tothem.But there had never been a question, not for her. She had no choice but to love him forever. She’d tried to hate him, yet despite wanting to cast out her love for him like a priest would a demonic spirit, she never succeeded.
And she no longer wanted to.
