And third, and most importantly, she showed no sign of harboring such intense feelings for him.
In short, he had no earthly idea what to do with this revelation.No solution appeared readily available.
Worse, when they returned home—a place that now seemed, after a manner of days, as muchhersas his own—she wanted to bed him.
And there was no way he could resist her.
Even though he knew, with a startling clarity, that the one threshold they had not yet crossed would only make his situation worse.
But how was he to stop it?When Beatrice padded into his room in her shift and robe, then removed them both, and climbed into bed beside him?
“Would you undress for me?”she asked, her deep, dark eyes full of lust.
Would he?
Yesterday, he had had an aversion to doing so because he had feared she would scoff at his deficits.Now, she knew all, and so that no longer worried him.
No, now he was afraid of what such undressing would do to his feelings.
And yet he longed to feel her skin against his own, to feel no barriers between them, and she evidentially wanted the same.
“Yes,” he said.He stood, quickly, and pulled his nightshirt over his head.
“You’re very handsome, you know,” Beatrice said, as he climbed back into bed.
“I am not paying you to flatter me,” he said, turning towards her.“But to let me tup you.”
She shook her head.“I am merely telling you how I feel.”
And then she embraced him.And he bit back a moan at the sensation.
Had he ever had this?With any woman?
Maybe once or twice.In the dark.When he had been young and lonely and full of drink and had been able to forget his inhibitions for a moment.
But even in those instances he had been too anxious to enjoy it.
Now, tears sprung to his eyes, and so he pulled her closer so that she wouldn’t see.The silky pull of her skin on his own was a wonder.It was truly like nothing he had ever experienced before.
And his cock was hard, of course.
But it was more than that.He felt completely exposed to her—and he liked it.
She pulled back and looked into his face.
He blinked back the tears that had welled there, trying to steady himself.
“I do not mind if you are emotional,” she said, to his vexation, as if she could read his damned mind.“You have deprived yourself for so long.”
He dragged his hand over her shoulder blade and then down to her breast, cupping her with his fingers.She gave out a satisfying little sigh as he did so.
“In a way, I suppose.I doubt many would feel too badly for me.”
She was right, of course, but he didn’t want to admit it.
“Perhaps you’re right,” she said.“But I would call it deprivation.Bedding is not just about cock in quim.It is about this particular kind of closeness.”
With those words, she pressed herself to him, lining herself up with him so that their bodies were completely flush.
