For a while, her memories of the time spent with him had been tainted by her misperceptions of what had transpired between them, the reasons he’d not made her his wife. She’d believed he’d suddenly realized he couldn’t marry someone beneath his station or that he’d planned all along to jilt her at the last moment. His attentions and declarations had all been a farce, a way to bed her and leave her. But now she knew the truth, and all the times they’d been together had returned to their proper hue, only brighter and more vivid, something to be recalled in later years with a smile.
At this moment, she was fully aware that the time for them to be together was ticking away. They weren’t promising each other forever, but only now. Knowing the truth was liberating. No false hopes, no deceptive expectations. And in the reality, she found exaltation.
He kissed the underside of her breast, his breath wafting warm along her skin, heating her to her very core. Frantic with need, she tightened her grip on him, sliding her hand up, down, up, stopping to circle the pad of her thumb over the smooth dome, spreading the dew gathered there. Her reward was his low feral growl before he began moving along the length of her torso, taking his time to place a lingering kiss against each rib.
He slid farther down, and she lost her hold on his cock. Why did the man have to be so remarkably tall? But his wide shoulders were within reach, and she took advantage of their nearness to dig her fingers into them as he peppered kisses over her stomach.
Lifting his head, he gave her a heavy-lidded look that sent her heart galloping. Adjusting his position so he was no longer supported by one arm, he placed a hand on the inside of each thigh and spread her legs wide enough to accommodate his broad shoulders as he settled between her thighs. He’d been there before. She knew the glory that was coming, that he would deliver. Her breathing stilled, became a timid thing, in anticipation of the wickedness she welcomed.
He blew a breath over the springy curls between her thighs, and her own breath released on a sigh. He kissed the inside of one thigh and then the other. Another duo of kisses, a little higher up. Then once more farther down.
She squirmed as her body tried to move her heavenly area closer to his questing mouth. His dark chuckle rang out. He knew he was tormenting her. Damn him for enjoying her writhing and suffering.
“Do it,” she ordered, breathless with need. “Feast upon me.”
He lifted his head, his eyes a cauldron of desire. He held her gaze, his shoulders tense against her fingers. Seeing him positioned thus between her legs had flames of yearning crackling within her, burning at her very core. Her nerve endings were sparking, and the manner in which he studied her might have been the most erotic thing she’d ever seen.
Within his eyes were so many promises: of passion, of fire, of incredible pleasure.
Then he lowered his head to fulfill them.
The first stroke of his tongue had her gasping, spreading her legs farther apart, and lifting her hips to meet his luscious mouth and bask in his wicked ways. She couldn’t hold still, undulating against him like some wild creature caught in a trap of its own making, with no avenue for escape. He gripped her hips, digging into her flesh, holding her captive while simultaneously setting her spirit free as he hungrily devoured.
A hard press. A quick, long stroke. A swirl of his tongue. A closing of his lips over that tiny bud aching with need. A suck that drew pleasure from every part of her as though all aspects of her were somehow connected with intertwining strings. She knew little about the inner makeup of the body—just a general knowledge of bone and muscle and tissue—but surely there existed a fine web of silken threads along which pleasure traveled, for how else could she experience such exquisite sensations everywhere when his attentions were devoted to only one aspect of her?
“Oh, Arthur!” It came out very nearly a squeal, a desperate beckoning for more as her skin tightened, very much like the tension ratcheting up as a catapult was being prepared to fling its arsenal over the castle wall.
He heeded her request, his ministrations increasing in fervor, until she was crying out as all the pent-up passion and desire shot through her and hurtled her into the abyss where pleasure in all its splendor reigned. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her legs clamped around him, and her cries echoed about them as wave after wave of ecstasy coursed through her. When she was lethargic and spent, he moved up and thrust into her, reigniting her desire.
Braced on his arms, he hovered over her, gazing down on her, his hips pistoning like some great beast of a locomotive. He was so majestic with his hair flapping against his brow, dew gathering on his chest. As her thighs squeezed his hips, she stroked her hands over his shoulders, his arms, his back.
With his movements, slamming into her, almost as though to punish himself for all the years they’d been apart, he brought forth more pleasure within her. Perhaps because it had been so long for her as well. She didn’t know if she’d ever be fully sated. Once more she was spiraling toward completion, his name echoing around her, a benediction.
Then he did what he’d never done before. As his body reached its crescendo, he withdrew, his seed—thick and hot—spilling against her thigh, his body jerking and trembling in the wake of its release.
She knew why he’d done it. When they’d come together five years earlier, he had planned to marry her and so it hadn’t mattered if she got with child. They’d simply say the little one arrived early. But now it mattered. He wasn’t going to marry her. She was going to marry another, and it would be wrong for her to be carrying a babe in her belly when she walked up the aisle to exchange her vows.
An overwhelming sense of loss battered her. Wrapping her arms around him, she clung to him as if by doing so, she might hold him forever.
Somewhere a clock chimed midnight, and she could have sworn that within its reverberations she heardButyou can’t.
It had been a good long while since Knight had felt such peace, although it was a bittersweet sensation because he was acutely aware a great deal of his contentment was the result of having Regina’s warm body resting snugly against his own, her finger lazily drawing circles over his chest. And it was very likely this would be the last time she would ever visit his bedchamber. She was destined to be welcomed into another. But at the moment she was with him, and he wanted to make the most of it.
“You were cross when you arrived... about the theater box.”
“You lost it to him on purpose,” she said lethargically. “Why?”
“Because I knew he didn’t have one and you enjoy the theater. I thought it would provide an opportunityfor him to quicken his courtship. It never occurred to me it would come with memories you might not wish to visit.”
She pressed a kiss to a rib. “I decided a nefarious reason was behind what you did. I should have known better.” She shifted until she was able to flatten her hand on his chest and rest her chin on it. “I don’t mind the memories now.”
Giving her a soft smile, he combed his fingers through the silken strands of her hair. “He’s a decent bloke. Chidding.”
Her gaze wandered over his features, and he wondered if she was striving to memorize every line and arch of his face as he was hers. “He kissed me tonight.”
No, the vixen had been watching him to gauge his reaction, and he suspected he’d had no success at disguising the flinch, as though his bare back had been flogged. He hadn’t needed to know that tidbit, didn’t want to consider the pleasures the man would have with her. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Did you enjoy it?”
Because he most certainly didn’t want her to have a lifetime of unpleasantness. He wasn’t that selfish of a bastard.
