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“No,” I breathed, honest.
“Does it bother you to know if anyone found out, you’d be cast from society?” William’s mouth found my neck, his tongue gliding from my collarbone to my ear. I whimpered under the slickness of his mouth.
“No.” Breathy, too breathy. My heart hammered in my chest, the dampness returning to my center. I needed him inside me again.
“Do you want me right now, Rose?” William locked eyes with me, that damn sideways grin appearing when he did. “You’re so damn beautiful when you flush with lust for me.” My cheeks heated more, but William fell to his knees, never breaking eye contact as he began to gather my skirts in his hand. I was practically dizzy with want.
“Well, my beautiful Rose? Do you want me?”
“I need you,” I said, practically pleading. He chuckled, roughly tugging my legs apart as I gripped the shelves behind me, books rattling with the force.
“Say it again,” he demanded, one hand trailing from my ankle to my thigh.
“I need you,” I urged through broken pants of breath, eyes on the ceiling as his fingers dipped inside me, one then two. His thumb pressed into the bundle of nerves, causing me to cry out, grinding my hips against him. It wasn’t enough, I need more.
“Mmmm, what a good wife you’ll make for me,” William purred, withdrawing his hand and fixing my skirts. I gaped, aching now more than ever, parched for his touch. He watched me intently as he sucked those two fingers clean. I could have melted.
“Why did you stop?” I demanded. He laughed lightly, kissing me softly before tugging me into the next stack.
“I’m afraid I’d be much too distracted to properly listen out for an intruder; I’d rather we weren’t interrupted when I am between your beautiful legs again.”
I bit my lip, unable to fight my grin. There was relief to be had that he’d want to do it again, that he hadn’t been put off in any way. And the thought of him thoroughly distracted, buried deep inside me was tonic enough to have me press my thighs together. William faced me with an expression that suggested he could sense where my mind was.
“You said it’s only been like this recently, what changed?” He mindlessly snagged another book from the shelf, flipping it open and returning it.
“It happened when Adam died. When he was here, Mother would take us out in the snow and let us decorate a tree. Father would read to us for hours and join Mother on the piano singing Christmas carols. It was rather festive,” I explained. William stepped toward me.
“Do you play, Rose?” he asked, running a finger over the swell of my breasts.
“Do I play? The piano? Oh yes, I've learned everything from Mother,” I replied, heated from his touch. I picked up Dickens’sA Christmas Carolfrom the shelf to distract myself. William took my hand, turning over the book.
“Why not restore some of the Christmas spirit?”
“What do you mean?” I watched his fingers grip around my other wrist and bring it to his lips.
“Let’s play those Christmas carols, read this bloody book, and liven the place up a bit.”
“You’re mad!” I laughed, struck that he’d suggest such brazen action. They’d stalk back to their caves and cry for the rest of the season, no doubt.
“How so? Do you think your parents are having fun mourning about on this holiday forever?”
“Does it matter?” I asked shortly. “Were they in the mood, they’d be out, wouldn’t they?”
“You're missing the point, my love.”
“Pray tell!”
“Your mother and father might be mourning, yes, they’ve lost a child and that is something no parent should ever face in their lifetime.” His eyes were far off as he spoke, “But were you to make them aware of howyoufeel, you may be surprised at the reaction from them. Maybe they think that you are much like them, you are still in mourning, too.”
“As I said, you are mad.” I continued looking for a book. William stopped me, pulling us together once more, his muscled chest pressing into me with each breath. I looked up at him expectantly, if he was going to continue to play with me so, we may have to disappear together again. His mouth barely grazed mine as he spoke, his breath tingling my skin.
“Maybe so, or maybe they need you to pull their spirits up. Maybe they need help in coming out of the abyss like you have. Maybe you should try it,” he breathed in my mouth. I shuddered from desire.
“Fine,” I answered helplessly, melting into his arms. He smiled, no doubt pleased with his handy work. William took my hand and led me down the stairs and into the parlor.
Father had moved downstairs at some point, laying on the settee, his hand over his eyes, vest off and suspenders draping uselessly at his sides. Laying on the table beside him was an empty coffee and decanter. His snores filled the entire room, I was surprised they did not rattle the glass. William chuckled to himself, opening the curtains Father no doubt had shut with purpose.
Over by the piano in the corner of the room, I lightly dusted it off, sitting on the stool. It had been years since I had played, having stopped after the war. William sat beside me in encouragement, his eyes brimming with pride. I swallowed loudly, and despite my nerves, began to play a soft melody I remembered Mother would start with. Father's snoring paused, continuing within a heartbeat.
