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She smiled, but gave him no quarter. After all, he’d given her none earlier. Between their bodies, his hand fumbled with his trousers, and then she felt him—warm and thick—against her flesh.
His fingers parted her legs, sliding across her slick entrance. He hissed in a breath. “You are ready for me.”
“Always.”
“Put your legs around my waist,” he ordered, dropping her hands to cup her rump with both hands.
“I don’t understand. I’ll fall.”
He touched his nose to hers. “My sweet innocent. I will hold you.” He lifted her, and she wrapped her legs about him. He adjusted slightly, moved her skirts, and then he was inside her. The sudden thrust of his member took her breath away. This was not like the last time. He hadn’t prepared her, and she rather liked the sudden shock of him. He thrust again, harder this time until she could feel the wall at her back and his fingers digging into her buttocks.
“Hold on,” he murmured in her ear.
She had no other choice. He moved fast and hard, bringing their bodies together and then pulling away just when she wanted him closer. She tried to catch her breath, but she could manage no more than a gasp before he was inside her again, filling her. He moved his hips with a skill she might have admired if she’d been able to think coherently. Instead, she bit her lip to keep from crying out.
“Don’t play the retiring miss with me,” he rumbled against her ear. “Scream for me.”
“I can’t,” she gasped as her body tightened impossibly.
He thrust again, moved his hips. “You can. Come with me.”
She was drunk on pleasure and the world teetered out of control as the climax hit her. She did scream then, his mouth taking hers to muffle the sound. She dug her hands into his back, seeking purchase. With an oath, he jerked back and she felt his seed on her thighs.
Always protecting her. Always protecting everyone but himself.
She turned her head to stare at the shadow of the Temple on the floor of their flat. Perhaps it was her turn to protect him.
Twenty
Laurent lay with Honoriain his arms. After his rather brutish behavior, he’d stripped her and made love to her slowly and thoroughly in the bedchamber. Now he held her, her lush curves and soft skin making him wish he had time to take her again. He didn’t know why he should not be satisfied, but it seemed the more he touched her, the more he wanted to touch her. The more he kissed her, the more he wanted to kiss her.
It was past dawn. The door to the main room was open, and he could see the first rays of gold peeking through the windows where the Temple did not shadow the building.
This was the day he had waited for since the royal family had been moved from the Tuileries to the Temple prison. This was why he had returned from the safety of exile and risked imprisonment. He’d survived, and now his only mission was to ensure Marie-Thérèse was delivered safely out of France. The dauphin would be more difficult to free, but Laurent had to at least attempt to save him. He and Ffoulkes had discussed where to take the children, and they’d both decided Vienna would be safest. Honoria, in turn, would be sent back to England, where she would be safe. As eager as Laurent was to see Madame Royale free and delivered safely into the hands of her cousin, the Holy Roman Emperor, he felt a pang of regret at having to leave Honoria.
When he’d abducted her at the safe house a mere six days ago, he had not anticipated ever developing feelings for her. She was beautiful, but he’d known many beautiful women. She was clever and compassionate, but he’d known women cleverer and equally compassionate. He’d never developed any sort of feelings for any of those women.
