By the time his hand made its way to her mons she was writhing with impatience. “Miles, you are driving me crazy on purpose, you tease.”
“I am simply doing a thorough job in washing you.” His fingers trailed lightly over her seam. His smile as wicked as his teasing. “If you don’t wish me to wash you, what do you wish me to do?” With his other hand, one finger circled her nipple oh so gently. Making the water swirl around her breasts.
“I believe you said something about making love to me until I couldn’t remember anything else.”
“Or anyone else.” His clever fingers teased over her clit. Then he slid two of them inside her.
She gasped and gripped his shoulder as he moved them in and out ruthlessly, curling up to hit a spot inside that made her moan with the pleasure it wrought. His thumb began to rub relentless circles over her clit at the same time. It was not slow or languid anymore. Miles built a frantic pace, spearing her with his fingers over and over. Her hips thrust to meet him; she couldn’t keep her moans quiet as she chased her climax. “Miles,” she cried out.
“Yes, love. Let me take you over the edge. Use my hand. Take your pleasure, my siren.”
And she did, pumping her hips to rub against his hand, desperate to take his fingers deep. She gripped his shoulders as the world burst into a thousand bright pieces behind her closed eyelids and she convulsed around his fingers. Then she slid boneless down into the tub until she was totally submerged. Floating on the blissful aftermath of her climax. When she emerged from the water Miles was stripping his clothes off. She watched enjoying the view of his backside as he laid his clothes over the chair, the two firm globes on display made her mouth water.
He straightened and grabbed a towel. “Come on, let’s get you dried off.” He helped her step out of the tub.
Susanna wrung out her curls as best she could while Miles knelt and rubbed her dry with the towel. When he rose to his feet, he used the towel to dry the length of her hair. With her hands free she lost no opportunity to touch him. She ran them over his chest and rubbed tiny circles around his nipples. She scraped her nails down over the muscles in his abdomen and then took his cock in hand. She loved the hard feel of him, and how it responded to her touch, jerking in her hands. She knew he wouldn’t let her tease for too long, he always preferred to be the one who tortured, the one in control of their play.
Miles threw down the towel and picked her up with a hand under each thigh. He twisted them and had her pinned up against the wall in the next moment. His mouth captured hers and his cock thrust inside her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on as his cock pounded up into her. He hiked her higher and his mouth latched onto one breast, sucking and biting the tight bud of her nipple. She was trapped, helpless to do anything but take his welcome invasion.
“Susanna, tell me you’re mine. Say it is so,” Miles demanded as his teeth scraped across her neck.
“Yes, yes, I will be yours for as long as you want me.”
“That will be as long as I live, my siren. I will never give you up.”
She shattered once more around him and he shouted as he climaxed with her. His hips pumping as his seed filled her. They collapsed against each other, her head on his shoulder, his lips buried in her hair. Susanna decided selfishly that she never wanted him to regain his memory as long as she could always have him love her like this. She ran her hands over his hair with the sinking feeling she was going to have to pay for such a terrible wish.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Miles took asip of his lemonade. The gardens behind Mr. Marlow’s home were in full bloom. Rosebushes in varying shades of pinks and reds surrounded the terrace. The soft buzz of bees filled the afternoon air as they flew from flower to flower. Susanna sat next to him; her bonnet shaded her eyes as she read the end ofThe Isle of Skye. He never tired of listening to her melodic voice. He may never read a book again if instead she would agree to read out loud to him. He didn’t care what the story was as long as she enjoyed it.
The French doors that led into the house opened and Mr. Marlow stepped outside.
“You have an unexpected visitor.” He stepped aside and from behind him stepped a tall man with messy dark-blond hair and identical features to his own.
Miles rose to his feet. Frozen as a waterfall of memories flooded back. “Daniel!” he called out. Excitement bubbled up. He recognized his brother.
He swiveled to face Susanna. “I remember. I saw his face and it all came rushing back. That is my brother Daniel and you are Susanna Ashby, daughter of Lord and Lady Dearborn. And I am Miles Weston, Marquess of Hawksridge.” Relief rushed through him. Susanna had told him all of that of course but toknowit was entirely different.
Daniel turned to Mr. Marlow. “Remember what? Why wouldn’t he remember who everyone was?”
“He has had amnesia for the past fortnight. Ever since the accident,” Mr. Marlow replied.
“What accident?” Daniel looked across at Miles. “What the hell happened?”
But Miles couldn’t pay attention to his brother’s questions. He stared down at Susanna. Susanna Ashby. Not Lady Hawksridge. Not his wife.Oh God.
“Miles, I’m so sorry. I meant to tell you the truth…” She stood and put a hand on his chest.
He stepped back. She had lied to him, made him believe that he had a right to her heart, to her body. The sense of betrayal hurt like a lance to his heart. “How could you let me think…” the words stuck in his throat.
Her eyes swam with tears. “I was selfish. I wanted it to be true.” Then she turned and fled. Racing through the roses across the grass and onto the path that led to the beach.
“Can someone please tell me what is going on?” Daniel called out.
He turned to his brother. “I will tell you everything I promise, but right now I have to go strangle that woman.”
“Well, that sounds about right,” he heard his brother say as Miles stalked after the most vexing woman alive.
