He was the only person who could anchor her to the world she’d forgotten. She depended on him. She trusted him.
But most of what he’d told her had been lies.
He struggled to catch his breath at the same time she tucked her face against his shoulder.
“I knew it would be good but it’s even better than I thought. I’m so glad I’m your wife.” She tilted her head back and gazed at him again, raw emotion showing in her eyes. “That felt like a first kiss—our second first kiss.”
Her fingertips danced along his jaw, stroking his beard, exploring, claiming an intimacy that shouldn’t exist between them.
Stone needed to slow her down and yet he rationalized that she wanted him, they were legally married, and perhaps…
She deserved this.
For as long as he’d known her, she’d dismissed any man who didn’t hold a title. She’d mocked him for being his father’s spare.
So why did she claim that her heart recognized him? Had she been attracted to him before, or was this supposed affection the only way her brain could cope with her loss of memory?
It had to be. The real Lady Tabetha never would have been so openly demonstrative.
Not to him, anyhow.
She trailed a gentle hand to the bare skin of his chest. He was only half-dressed, and she wore nothing but a night rail.
A thin and silky night rail.
Sitting together like this, it was almost as though they really were husband and wife.
“What was it like? The first time you kissed me before?”
I’m going to go to hell for this.
He’d always suspected she could be sweet like this, alluring and seductive. He’d just never imagined he’d be on the receiving end of it.
But how was he supposed to answer such a question?
“You set me on fire,” he admitted. “I knew I had to have you.”
Amazing that in this he was at least being partially honest. He cleared his throat. He was growing surprisingly partial to having her in his arms.
She held his gaze, her pupils growing larger, her breaths shorter.
Warning bells sounded, likely his conscience.
“And now you can,” she said.
Stone tucked her head below his chin, stroking her disheveled hair.
No way in hell was any of this going to end well. Unless she never regained her memory, that was. He froze at the thought. Such a scenario posed altogether different complications.
He was not Rock Chester, nor was she Mrs. Tabetha Chester. At some point in time over the next fifty or so years, she would no doubt discover these facts.
And then it wouldn’t matter that she was, in fact,Mrs.Spencer. She wouldn’t care that they werelegallymarried.
But this… holding her. Kissing her. Her wanting him to make love to her… None of this was real.
She was grasping at a fantasy. Once she realized the true nature of their relationship, she’d no doubt hate him more than ever. She would regret moments like this, anddamn his eyes, she would resent him.
And yet, she was the one making advances.
