A stubborn spark flickered within Rose, a refusal to let the night end in silence and shadows. She turned toward Felix, her hand brushing tentatively against his back, feeling the rigid line of his spine through the thin fabric of his nightshirt.
“Felix,” she whispered, her voice a fragile thread in the dark. “I need you.”
His breath caught, and slowly, against his will, he rolled to face her, his eyes searching hers in the dim light filtering through the window.
The space between them narrowed. His hand found her waist, pulling her closer until their bodies aligned. The heat of him was a stark contrast to the cold that had claimed the room. Rose’s heart raced as she leaned in, her lips meeting his in a kiss that began as a question and quickly deepened into need.
His mouth was insistent, and she responded with the same urgency. Her hands slid under his shirt to explore the hard plane of his chest, where his heart pounded erratically. Felix groaned, his fingers tangling in her hair as he shifted above her. The quilts fell away to reveal the curve of her body beneath the borrowed shirt.
He tugged at the fabric, exposing her breasts to the cool air. His thumb brushed over a hardened nipple with a reverence that made her arch into him. A soft gasp escaped her lips.
As their bodies pressed together, Rose felt herself unfolding with raw, unfiltered intensity. His hardness strained against her thigh as her core throbbed from arousal. Felix’s hand ventured lower, parting her folds with gentle precision.
His touch was different this time, both exploratory and commanding. His fingers delved into her warmth, stroking the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her hips buck involuntarily.
“Rose,” he murmured against her neck, his voice rough with emotion, “God help me, Rose.”
She clung to him, her nails digging into his back as waves of pleasure built. Their movements created a dance of forgiveness and fire. Each thrust of his fingers inside her drew a moan from her throat, the rhythm syncing with the rise and fall of their breaths, until the world outside faded, leaving only the electric connection between them.
Felix’s body shifted above hers, his weight a grounding force as he aligned himself. His hard length pressed insistently against her. Rose’s breath hitched. Her hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into the taut muscles as if to anchor herself against the surge of need building between them.
He paused, eyes locked on hers, and then he pushed forward, sliding into her with a slow, deliberate thrust that filled hercompletely, stretching her in a way that blurred pain and pleasure into one overwhelming sensation.
Her body arched to meet him, each inch of him claiming her as his hips began to move in a rhythm that echoed the pulse of her own heartbeat. The friction was exquisite. Felix glided in and out with growing urgency. The wet sounds of their joining mingled with their ragged breaths and the faint crackle of the dying fire.
Rose wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. Her breasts brushed against his chest with every motion, nipples hardening against the coarse hair there. Felix’s thrusts were steady and powerful, each one driving home into the perfect spot inside her.
As the tension coiled tighter, Rose felt the world narrow to the sublime friction of their bodies, his cock hitting that deeply sensitive spot inside her that made stars burst behind her eyelids.
Felix’s breath grew uneven against her neck, his groans vibrating through her as he whispered words of encouragement, “Let go for me.” She did, her climax crashing over her in waves that clenched around him, pulling him over the edge with her.
He followed with a final, shuddering thrust, spilling into her with a low growl, their bodies trembling in unison.
Rose lay beside him, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, but Felix tensed at her touch. Still, she pressed on, her fingers tracing the familiar contours of his shoulder. Theman was always restless, even when the rest of him lay perfectly still.
For a long time, there was nothing but the sound of the fire and the slow, shared breathing. Her limbs felt loose, her body worn out in a way that was not at all unpleasant. She let her mind drift, unspooling every good memory she had ever collected: Lizzie’s smile, Eleanor’s letters, the scent of wet grass in the convent garden. She added tonight to the list.
She did not plan the words; they just bubbled up, wild and certain.
“I love you,” she said, barely louder than a prayer.
Felix did not react at first. His hand stopped its circling, and he was still. His breath hitched.
Rose felt the change, sensed the danger, but could not unsay the words.
He pulled away, just a little. Not enough to be out of reach, but enough that she felt the drop in temperature. He stared up at the ceiling, jaw clenched.
“Felix?” she said, the question hanging.
He rolled onto his back. For a minute, she thought he might leave, but he only closed his eyes, as if bracing for a blow.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally.
Rose reached for his hand, but he did not meet her halfway.
“It’s not—” he began, but the words failed. He tried again. “You shouldn’t. Not me.”
“Why?” she asked. Hurt was already blooming inside her, taking up all the space she’d made for hope.
