Page 50 of Dare it all for Love

“Is this what you think about, at night, when you are alone in your bed?”

Florence nodded again but he would not let her get away with it a second time.

“Tell me,” he insisted.

“Yes. Yes, I think about this.”

“Then what should I do next? Where do you want me to touch you?”

A blush of such vibrant pink rose over her neck, colouring her cheeks, he could feel the heat of it.

“I… c-can’t,” she said.

Henry chuckled and nipped at her ear. “Oh, I think you can, but I’ll be kind… this time.”

He stroked through her curls and her hips canted towards his touch, eager for more. Henry’s pulse was racing, hardly able to believe she would allow him this, never mind that he’d been devil enough to take it. He’d always considered himself a gentleman, had never dallied with innocent girls, not even as a young man, but Florence had a way of driving him on, of getting what she wanted that overrode all his hard-won control and made him act like a damned schoolboy. Well, this far and no farther. He would bring her pleasure, and then… and then he’d remember what the hell it was he’d wanted to talk to her about and take her back to the house.

“Henry.” Her voice was full of anguish as he teased his fingers back and forth, so close to where she needed him but not close enough.

“I know, love,” he murmured, dragging his mouth across her cheek to her lips.

He kissed her, deep and hard, their tongues tangling, stroking, and Florence gasped as he finally sought the little nub of flesh buried in that secret place and pressed. Her head fell back, and Henry kissed her neck as he caressed and toyed with her. His hand delved deeper between her thighs, one finger sliding inside her wet heat as she cried out, burying her face against his shoulder.

“Yes, like that, my beautiful Florence. God, you’re lovely. I cannot wait to marry you.”

She clutched at his shoulders, trembling, her eyes squeezed shut as he stroked and caressed her delicate flesh until he felt her the pleasure building, felt her muscles tense and quiver. He covered her mouth with his own, swallowing her moan of pleasure as she broke under his touch. She shuddered and jolted, with soft little sounds of surprised delight as he eased her through the final tremors.

He stared into eyes of green, thickly lashed and with that beguiling feline slant, utterly bewitched.

“I love you,” he said, his voice hoarse, hardly believing he was uttering the words he’d sworn never to say again.

Florence blinked up at him, looking a little dazed, but her eyes filled with tears at his words, and she reached up and touched his face with her hand.

“Oh, Henry, I love you too.”

“You bastard!”

Henry jolted, realising too late that he had failed to notice the sound of someone approaching, or that they were not quite so hidden as they’d believed.

Gabriel Knight looked about as angry as a man could look, and no wonder, considering Henry had his hands up his daughter’s skirts.

Shit.

Gabriel lunged for him. Henry sidestepped, darting just out of reach, and ducking out from under the low branched.

“Papa! Papa, don’t! Don’t!” Florence shouted, to no avail.

Gabriel was far beyond listening in this moment. He wanted Henry’s blood and nothing else would do. All Henry could do was try to stay alive until someone came and restrained him. The devil of it was Henry was ten years younger than Gabe and could hold his own in a fight, having done so often enough on his travels, but he could not fight back when he knew he was very much in the wrong, and that Florence would never forgive him if he hurt her father.

“Gabriel, we need to talk,” he said, dodging a vicious upper cut that would have dislodge teeth and likely broken his bloody jaw if it had made contact. Gabriel clearly didn’t spend all his days sitting on his backside either.

“I’ll talk when you’re dead,” Gabriel growled, delivering a swift upper cut that Henry barely avoided the full force of, and which sent him stumbling backwards.

“Papa!” Florence yelled in fury. “I love him!”

“You’ll get over it,” Gabriel snarled, bearing down on Henry like one of the bloody trains he was so fond of.

“I will not fight you,” Henry said, holding his hands up.