“Don’t argue.” His mouth curved faintly. “You’ve been through enough for one night.”
She huffed a small laugh, but it lacked any real protest. Instead, she looped her arms around his neck, resting her cheek against his shoulder. He carried her from the bathing chamber with ease, his steps slow and sure. When he nudged open the door to her bedroom—what had once beentheirbedroom—he froze.
The air smelled faintly of her perfume, as though she’d applied it often enough within these walls until it permeated this room. The fireplace was unlit, but the rays of the rising sun peeked through the closed drapes, giving the room a faint, comforting glow, sending long shadows dancing over familiar furniture.
Everything was precisely as he remembered.
The great oak bed they had shared, its headboard carved with curling vines. The small writing desk where she used to pen her reports. His favorite chair by the fireplace, its worn leather bearing the faint indent of his body as if he’d only just left it. Even his old dresser stood in the corner, polished and neat.
He almost expected to pull open the drawers and find his shirts folded within, his neckties neatly rolled, his cufflinks tucked into the little mahogany box on top. But that made no sense. Six years had passed.
If Alice had truly moved on, if she were sharing her life—or her bed—with another man, wouldn’t she have rid herself of these relics?
But traces of him, ofthem, were everywhere.
Nathaniel lowered her carefully onto the edge of the bed, his mind roiling as she loosened the towel and let it fall away. She sat there in the filtered morning light, her bare skin gleaming like ivory, hair tumbling from its pins to fall in damp waves over her shoulders.
He removed the rest of the pins, letting the tresses fall free, running his fingers through the silky strands, as he attempted to make sense of everything he had discovered in this home today.
“Everything is the way it was.” It wasn’t a question, but she answered regardless.
“I kept it the same,” she said softly. “I couldn’t bring myself to change anything. This house—it always felt comforting. Our refuge. Even when you weren’t here.”
His chest constricted painfully. He reached out, brushing a lock of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her cheek. “I thought you left me behind without a second thought. But this…” He let out a low, uneven laugh. “This doesn’t look like a woman determined to forget.”
Her lips parted, but no words came. A shimmer of vulnerability crossed her face before she looked away.
Nathaniel’s thumb traced her jawline before cupping her chin, tilting her face back to his. He kissed her—softly at first, a tentative brush of lips—but she melted into him almost at once. Her hands slid up his chest, her fingers curling into his still-damp hair as he deepened the kiss.
This time there was no rush, no desperation. Only slow, tender exploration. He let his mouth drift over hers, coaxing rather than claiming, savoring the familiar taste of her.
When he finally eased her back onto the bed, she went willingly, her fingers tugging at the towel still knotted at his hips. He stripped it away, their bare skin meeting with a heat that made them both sigh with relief.
He kissed her again, long and lingering, before his lips trailed lower—to her throat, her collarbone, the gentle swell of her breasts. She arched beneath him, her breath catching on a sob, her hands stroking down his back as though memorizing the shape of him anew.
Nathaniel took his time, worshipping every inch of her with lips and hands. Her sighs turned to soft moans, her nails grazing his skin as he teased and soothed in equal measure.
“Nathaniel, please. I need you.”
Oh, he needed her too. But he was enjoying this too much. His cock was leaking with need, warning him it couldn’t bear much more. But his mind and heart didn’t want this to end.
Only when she was desperate with need, tugging at his hair, her legs opening wide in wanton invitation, did he at last enter her.
The previous time, at the Black Swan, they could pretend they had been influenced by the wicked ambiance of the club. They could hide their desires and their feelings behind the masks. They could pretend to be other people, with no history, no past. Now they were naked in body and soul. In their home. They were Alice and Nathaniel, with all their faults, their painful past, their hurts and mistakes. But their love, their yearning, was just as real. He slid into her, gaze locked on her eyes.
It was a slow, careful, gradual joining that drew a shuddering breath from both of them. Her legs came up to cradle his hips,her hands framing his face as he rocked into her with exquisite gentleness.
There was no hurry, only the steady rhythm of bodies moving in perfect accord, of hearts pounding in time. Their mouths fused, breaths mingling as he whispered her name like a prayer.
And then he felt it. Her quickening breaths, the tightening of her muscles, the first signs of her impending orgasm. His release threatened to spill out. He had been holding back by exercising supreme control, because he wanted to stay with her through her climax. To feel the rippling contractions of her flesh milking his cock. But he would never be able to hold back through that.
Gritting his teeth, he started to pull back, but her legs wrapped around his, her hands coming to rest on his arse, digging her nails into the hard flesh.
“Don’t leave me now,” she begged. “Oh, God, Nathaniel. I’m so close. Stay…stay.”
With a guttural cry, her flesh clamped around his, her supple internal muscles rippling around him. She clung to him during her crisis. And he was lost. His long-denied release exploded into her in relentless waves that wracked his body and left him drained and more at peace than he had felt in five long years.
Consciousness returned slowly. Nathaniel rolled them gently onto their sides, wrapping his arms around her, keeping her close, her head tucked beneath his chin.
