“Me too. I want that so much.”
“And I hope your father stubs his toe and that his toast is always cold.”
“Get over here.” Tuck’s voice was deep with amusement. He hauled her onto him so she straddled his waist.
“What did I do to deserve you, huh?”
“Something that pleased the fates.” She glanced down. “It’s growing hard again.”
“You have that power over me.”
“Like a witch.” She waved her hands as if casting a spell.
“More like an enchantress.” He braced her hips between his hands. “This time you could take the reins.”
She glanced down. “Me?”
“I remember some big talk last night in the carriage. What was all that about wanting to ride St.George’s dragon?”
She covered her face. “Oh my goodness. I’d hoped that was a dream.”
“It’s definitely one of mine, sweetheart.”
Perhaps it was too much. Maybe she was too greedy. It wasentirely possible that she wanted more than the world would ever see fit to give her. But that didn’t mean she’d stop asking. She eased herself over him, his tip at her cleft. She was still so ready that she took him again easily, her body hungry.
“And now I ride you?”
“Sure, baby.” He made a low growl of appreciation. “Let yourself go.”
She made an extremely slow hip circle and that was good. Her nipples hardened. Bending forward, she arched and increased the pressure, bringing herself right over his pelvic bone, right at the spot that had felt so good before. She kept the angle to maintain the contact.
“You’re beautiful.” He never took his gaze from her, the strain evident in his clenched jaw. His eye contact was fierce, lethal almost, and yet she knew she had the lead now. He’d handed her the power and the fact made the muscles coil low in her belly.
“I’m close. So close.”
He went taut. “Together. We go together.”
He took her hands and laced his fingers with hers, and as she writhed, her body quaking, he flowed into her. The only sounds in the world were his rasping grunts and the wet sounds of their bodies meeting as she rode through the last of her pleasure.
She melted into him, exhausted but beyond blissful. As they lay together, their hearts an echo of the other, it seemed impossible that this connection—more real than any she’d ever known—could eventually become a bittersweet memory. Would this moment resonate through the ages, or become another forgotten tale?
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tuck rubbed the sleep gritting his eyes, and squinted into the twilight seeping into the bedchamber. Odd—it felt as if a sound somewhere within the house had dragged him from sleep, but it seemed all quiet now. He leaned down and kissed Lizzy’s temple, then shifted his gaze up to the fancy plaster designs on the ceiling, all roses, grape leaves, and cherubs. In so many ways, this felt like where he was supposed to be—except not. His stomach twisted at the thought of leaving Nora all alone. He was her family.
But why not take Lizzy when he went? Imagine her in jeans, driving his Jeep, or on a date night at a wine bar, wearing a killer black dress paired with heels. The thought of her reaction to everyday activities like grocery shopping or going to the movies made him grin. Damn, it would be so much fun.
And what about her family? It wasn’t as if Rufus Alby or Henry would be devastated by her absence.
She deserved happiness, and he could give her that.
Wait.
He froze—ears straining. The faint, far-off sound rose again—the same one that must have woken him up. Goose bumps broke out down the backs of his arms. Somewhere in the house a woman wailed.
Lizzy stirred, her lids flying open. “Mamma,” she mumbled, pushing herself up to sit. “Why is she crying like that?”
They rose and poured water from the pitcher into the porcelain basin, cleaning themselves before dressing quickly. All the while, the wails continued. Tuck’s guts clenched at the sound.
