He gave a short, mirthless laugh and rolled onto his back, resting the back of his hand over his eyes.
“Now,” she said, turning onto her side, facing away from him. “I’ll have a short rest before I go home.”
Behind her, she heard him exhale a long sigh.
Why was he behaving thusly?
Their coupling had been one of mutual want, and now she knew what all the fuss was about.
She couldn’t regret it.
Her eyes drifted shut.
Yet…
She had to admit the act wasn’t as transformative as plays, poetry, and novels had led her to believe—that a part of her that felt oddly unknowable had teased just out of reach and ultimately denied her a secret.
Perhaps, someday, it would reveal itself to her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Dev lay on his back, watching night shadows dance across the ceiling, damnably awake.
Beside him, Beatrix snored softly.
He should have seen to her pleasure first.
He wasn’t some green youth.
He was Lord Devil, for heaven’s sake.
Shehad been the virgin.
And he’d left her unsatisfied.
The very idea gnawed at him.
Which it would surely do for the rest of his days.
And there she lay, sleeping peacefully because she didn’t know any better.
She didn’t know she should be hurling his reputation back into his face.
He groaned—again.
For the hundredth time tonight.
He shifted onto his side and let his gaze rest upon her nude form, porcelain skin illuminated by the soft light of the moon streaming through a high window.
He’d taken her for naught more than skin and bones during their first encounter.
She was thin, but lissome was the more accurate descriptor. There was no one perfect version of the female form—he’d dedicated much of his early twenties to discovering that for himself—but this woman was perfect unto herself.
As frustrated as he was about how tonight had proceeded—another groan escaped him—he couldn’t regret it.
Refusing her had never been an option.
But he wouldn’t hide behind that flimsy excuse.
