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“You don’t need to be ashamed of these,” she said. “They’re marks of honor.”

“Honor,” he scoffed.

“You were trying to do the right thing.”

“I failed.”

“We all fail at things. Important things. Tragic things. How we respond to our failures, and how we overcome them. Those are the moments that define us, Gareth.”

“There is no overcoming this particular tragedy,” he said bitterly.

“Then perhaps you need to look at it a different way. How can you give yourself grace and move on with your life, instead of wallowing in the hurts of your past?”

“Did you come to my room to debate philosophy or to make love, Miss Ballard?”

She chuckled. “I came here for you. In either capacity. But I would very much like to continue what we were doing.”

Together they got his trousers off. He took the liberty of depriving her of her nightgown in the process—rather adroitly, she noted. He might think he had difficulty attracting women but he had obtained experience from somewhere. Jealousy pinched her.

Evaine chose to be grateful to those other women, for she was reaping the benefit of their tutelage. She still had a great deal to learn. She set about exploring the vein that ran along the underside of his cock with her tongue. His quiet grunt was all the encouragement she needed to try licking the blunt, ruddy head. Below, a heavy, thick sack tucked between his thighs received a gentle, curious caress. He tented his fingers against the side of her head and swore.

“You’re killing me, Evaine,” he wheezed.

“In a good way?” she paused to ask.

“The best way. Keep going. Please.”

She liked hearing a man beg; it made her feel powerful. Remembering the jolt of excitement she’d felt when he’d met her eyes while performing the same act on her, she glanced up at him as she took him into her mouth. His eyes, already slivered rings of ice-blue around blown pupils, darkened further. His hips lifted fractionally. She opened her mouth wider to take him. He pushed deeper into her mouth, to the point of gagging. She was on the cusp of telling him to stop when he pulled back and fisted his cock, pumping furiously until⁠—

Milky fluid spurted all over his stomach.

Evaine gasped in surprise. His body relaxed all at once, as if he had sprinted to the point of collapse.

“Come here,” he said, beckoning.

“Was I staring? I’m sorry if I was rude.”

He snorted. It sounded suspiciously like laughter.

“Don’t apologize.” His lips brushed a kiss near her temple. He dragged his thumb up and down the curve of her arm. Evaine shivered in the chill. Where she was pressed against his side, she was warm. His skin was burning hot all along her side. But the rest of her was cold. A combination like sitting beside a fire with only half of you warm at any moment, depending on whether you were facing the blaze or put your back to it.

Sensing her shiver, Gareth wordlessly pulled the blanket up around her shoulders.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“No.” He shrugged. After a minute he added, “We can stop here if you like.”

“I don’t like, actually. Let’s continue.” Evaine pushed up to kiss him. He was ready for her, rolling her to her back, settling between her thighs. Already hardening again.

Gareth

Evaine’s scent wrapped around him, sweet and soft and wild. There was the floral fragrance in her hair—a minor extravagance that no one could rightfully begrudge a pretty young woman, no matter how penurious—and the warm femininity radiating from every inch of her velvety skin.

Gareth was falling, hard and fast. Her lithe body beneath his was fast becoming an addiction. He worked his way down her throat, palming her breast, finally capturing that taut peak between his lips. He feasted there, then moved to lavish the other with the same attention until her breath became ragged pants. Stretching one arm downward he found her wet and willing. He eased two fingers into her passage. She squirmed. He was relentless, toying with her slickness, imagining how it would feel to push inside her⁠—

She clutched his shoulders, her breath coming in ragged bursts as she pulsed around him.

“Good,” he murmured against her damp temple. She may have been cold before, but there was perspiration in the hollows of her clavicles now. He dipped his tongue there to taste her that way. He wanted to lick every inch of her, to claim her intimately.