“You never cease to surprise me, my sweet,” he said with a chuckle, his hand roaming down her bottom, then her thigh as casually as if he was touching his own leg.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” he said with careful casualness. “Why don’t you use a cane?”
Amelia stiffened slightly. “I don’t need one.”
“Maybe so.” His voice was gentle. “I’ve watched you navigate uneven garden paths, crowded ballrooms. It can’t be easy when you are fatigued.”
She was quiet for a moment, weighing her response. “A cane draws attention,” she said finally. “It makes the disability the first thing people notice. I prefer to be judged on my words, my work. Not by my limitations.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes. “So, you endure the pain instead.”
“It’s not so bad,” she shrugged, though they both knew she was understating her struggle. “I’ve grown accustomed to it.”
Charles studied her face, something like admiration mingling with concern in his expression. “Your determination is remarkable, Amelia. But there’s no shame in accepting help when it’s needed.”
The tenderness of his voice still surprised her. This was a side of Charles she was still struggling to reconcile with the rakish aristocrat she’d first met.
“I should go,” she said, suddenly acutely aware of the time. “There’s work to be done at theReview, and—”
“And you need space to think,” he finished for her, releasing her hand. “I understand.”
Amelia nodded, grateful for his understanding. She gathered the sheet around herself and moved to rise from the bed. It was only when her foot touched the cool floor that reality crashed back. Her wooden leg lay across the room where Charles had carefully placed it the night before.
She froze, suddenly exceedingly aware of her vulnerability. Walking across the room without her prosthetic would be impossible, yet asking for help felt like an admission of dependency she wasn’t prepared to make. Had she been alone, she would have hopped or crawled, not caring how undignified she appeared.
Charles seemed to sense her dilemma. “Would you like me to bring it to you?” he asked quietly.
Pride warred with practicality. “Please,” she said finally, the word barely audible as she pushed down the shame that had accompanied her disability since childhood.
But instead of retrieving her prosthetic, Charles moved closer, gathering her into his arms, sheet and all. Before she could protest, he was pulling her back against his chest, his arms encircling her waist.
“Charles, what are you—”
“Helping,” he murmured against her ear, his voice low and warm. “Just not in the way you expected.”
His lips found the sensitive spot beneath her ear, sending a shiver through her body that had nothing to do with the morning chill. One hand splayed across her stomach, holding her securely against him while the other traced a path from her knee upward, his touch both reverent and possessive.
“You’ll need to retrieve my leg eventually,” she managed, though her protest sounded weak even to her own ears.
“Eventually,” he agreed, his breath warm against her neck. “But not quite yet.”
His hands continued their gentle exploration, retracing paths discovered the night before. “I want you to remember this today,” he whispered, his voice roughening with desire. “When you’re sitting at your desk, working on your articles, I want you to feel me with every movement.”
His words sent heat spiraling through her, desire mixing with a strange, fierce tenderness that caught her off guard.
Charles pushed away the sheet separating them and flipped her onto her stomach. His warm skin pressed against her backside. The hard ridge of his cock nestled between the soft curves of her bottom as his hand cupped her breast, kneading gently.
“Confound it, Amelia,” he breathed, his voice husky with desire. “You drive me mad with want.”
He positioned himself at her entrance, then plunged into her with a low groan that reverberated through her body. Slowly, torturously, he withdrew completely, only to thrust back in with renewed fervor. His fingers found her sensitive bud, circling and rubbing as he established a rhythm of deep, measured strokes.
Amelia moved her hips in tandem, meeting each thrust with a forceful tilt of her pelvis. The friction was exquisite, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body.
“Christ, you feel divine,” he rumbled, his pace quickening. He slid in and out of her with increasing urgency, his breaths coming hard and fast against her neck. “Come for me, Amelia. I want to feel you squeeze my cock.”
“Charles, I’m… Oh God…” As she cried out his name again, she began pulsing around him, pushing him over the threshold of ecstasy.
With a sharp intake of breath, Charles stiffened behind her. His body curled around hers, every muscle tightening and relaxing as his release washed over him. As the tremors subsided, he stilled, one handstill cupping her breast possessively.
