“Ah, Josie.” He reached out to her then, taking her in his arms. “I am so sorry for making you wonder and worry. My mother’s death forced me to make a great deal of realizations, and one of them is how much you mean to me.” He buried his face in her hair, inhaling. “I have been an arse. Can you forgive me?”
She clutched him tightly to her. “There is nothing to forgive, my love.”
“Am I?” He raised his head, searching her gaze with his. “Your love?”
“Of course you are.” She cupped his beloved face in her hands. “My heart is yours, Decker. It always has been and it always will be. I love you.”
“I love you,” he said again, before his mouth swooped down on hers.
Jo kissed him back with all the love bursting inside her, all the need, the relief, and the passion, too. It felt as if forever had passed since she had last known the sweetness of his lips on hers. She opened for him, their tongues tangling. He tasted like forgiveness and love and tea and everything she wanted for the rest of her life.
He tasted likehers.
She broke the kiss with reluctance, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. “I finally completed number eight on the list. I was wondering if you might aid me with that one now.”
“That depends.” His flirtatious manner had returned, along with his devilish charm. “What does number eight say?”
“It was meant to have saidask a gentleman to help you disrobe,” she told him. “But I have made some realizations myself since I first wrote the list, and the most important one is that there is only one man with whom I want to complete it.You. No one else will do.”
“When you phrase it thus, Mrs. Decker, how can I resist?” He kissed her again lingeringly, slowly, masterfully.
It was a kiss of love and worship and reverence.
A kiss of promise and forever.
She never wanted it to end, and she kissed him back with every bit as much veneration. Lips moved in tender, seductive rhythm. Tongues glided together. Her fingers slid into his hair, sifting through the thick, luxurious strands.
A lingering, nagging question reared its head then. Or rather, two of them. She ended the kiss, trying to gather her thoughts. If this was the moment in which they were both embracing complete honesty, then these questions could not wait, regardless of how badly her body longed for Decker’s.
He traced her brow with a gentle swipe of his forefinger, the caress casual and yet at once so caring that it made her heart ache. “Something is bothering you, my love. What is it?”
She inhaled, exhaled. Locked her gaze on his. This was the man she loved. Her husband. She could tell him anything. Ask him any question.
“When you were attempting to convince my brother to give you my hand,” she began, “you told him I could be carrying your child when there was no possibility of that.”
His sensual lips compressed. “I did. In truth, I was desperate to make you mine and fearful your brother would disapprove of the match. I could not bear the notion of you marrying another, and so I set out to make certain he would have no choice but to accept my suit. I would apologize for my actions, but in truth, I am not sorry, Josie. I wanted you—neededyou—and now you are mine.”
She could hardly argue with that logic. But there was another part of that question she had yet to ask. Her cheeks went hot as she searched for the words. “That does not explain…do you not want children, Decker? You said you had no need of heirs, but…”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. She could not help but to notice that even his throat was handsome—every part of him attracted her notice. She wanted to press her lips there, to inhale his scent, to kiss and lick and nip him.
But answers first.
“Ah, Josie.” He exhaled, his warm breath fanning over her lips as he pressed his forehead to hers for a moment before straightening again. “That is another realization my mother’s death has left me with: I do want children. Your children. I was so caught up in my hatred and anger toward Graham that I vowed never to carry on his legacy. Instead, I was determined to give it to everyone else—to spend it wisely, yes, for not even I could bring myself to profligacy just to spite him. However, everything I did—every penny I spent—was to defy him in some way. I gave to orphans and hospitals, I used it to buy erotic art and fund erotic literature. And I will be honest with you. I have yet to find a compromise for myself. But neither will I deny us the chance to have a family because of the bitterness I carry toward the man who sired me. It is time to cut free the shackles of the past in every way.”
Her heart hurt for him by the time he finished his earnest explanation. He was such a strong, intelligent, good man. And so much of his life had been defined by his inability to be accepted for who he was. No longer, she vowed.
“Oh, Decker, my love,” she said, caressing his jaw. He was so beloved to her, so vital. She wanted to wrap herself around him and never let him go. “We will find a way, together.”
“Love is more important than hatred.” He kissed her cheek, her nose. “I understand that now. You make me whole. You make me want to be a better man for you. A man who deserves you.”
“My darling man, you havealwaysdeserved me.” She caught his face in her hands and dragged his lips back to hers for another lengthy kiss before tearing her mouth away. “My heart has always known yours. I feel it. Here.”
Jo took his hand and pressed it over that madly thumping organ.
“I feel the same way,” he breathed, his gaze so profound, tears unexpectedly stung her eyes.
“Good,” she said, needing to break the heaviness of the moment. “Now help me to disrobe before I die of longing.”
