AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Alex released the knife. “I wondered when you would arrive.”
He looked for a place to sit, but seeing only chairs strewn with damp garments, sat on the edge of the bed. “Dewhurst dragged me halfway around the city.”
“Was that wise?”
“It was unavoidable, and we stayed clear of the Conciergerie and the Tuileries. He’s speaking with Ffoulkes now.”
She eyed the sunlight filtering through the curtains. “We have several hours until dark. Do you want to join me?”
His gaze settled on her bare shoulders. “To sleep?”
“If you like.”
His eyes darkened. “Are you naked under those sheets?”
“Come in and find out.”
Eighteen
She was naked underthe sheets, her slim body smooth and soft to his touch. He’d undressed as well, and the feel of her body sliding against his was almost more than he could take. He gritted his teeth and forced his hands to move slowly, to explore. They had a couple of hours, at least. There was no need to rush.
He palmed her small breast, the nipple pebbling against his hand. Moving under the sheets, he took the hard bud in his mouth and sucked, causing her to moan and arch. She smelled like the usual heady mixture of spring flowers, and he kissed her skin from neck to navel, making her giggle and writhe and her flesh react with goosepimples. Finally, he kissed the pale hair between her legs, licking down until he tasted the essence of her. Her body moved more frantically now, seeking release, but he had control and prolonged her pleasure as long as he could. When she bucked and cried out, he flipped her over, lifted her hips and plunged into her. She cried out again, her sex clenching around him, still in the throes of climax. He thrust deep and hard, his knees trembling as the pleasure swirled through him. Finally, he withdrew and spent himself on a discarded piece of linen. With a groan, he collapsed and pulled her against him, her back to his chest.
She murmured something, but he was already half asleep. He hoped to God that Dewhurst and Ffoulkes were watching for revolutionaries because he could not have remained awake even if he’d had a pistol to his temple.
He woke an hour or so later, his hand on Alexandra’s belly, feeling the gentle, rhythmic rise and fall of it. She was still sleeping, and he had to resist the urge to clutch her tighter. Tomorrow they would either be dead, in prison, or on their way to different countries.
Could he allow her to leave him?
Could he allow himself to tell her he wanted her?
Ever since the loss of his parents and the loss of his innocence at the hands of the Duc du Mérignac, Tristan had avoided vulnerability. He dared not attach himself to anyone or anything for fear it might be taken away. When he made love with a woman, he kept his distance, not looking her in the eye, leaving when the act was done.
He’d tried these tactics with Alexandra, but she’d managed to make him care for her anyway. Now he had a sick, churning feeling in his belly every time he thought about losing her. This was exactly why he’d kept to himself all these years, working hard for the revolution and not pursuing relationships. He knew what it felt like to lose the people he cared most about. He’d never wanted to feel that pain again.
But as she stirred and turned to face him, burrowing her cheek against his chest, Tristan knew it was too late. The pain was a foregone conclusion. Somehow he would survive it.
