"Ready to go?"
"Not yet." Bolstering up a smile, she eased back and took his hand. "Soon."
*****
When they went back to the cottage almost midnight, he undressed her slowly, using his mouth on every inch of her body until she was begging to be taken.
As if sensing that something was changing, he ignored her pleas and continued to labor over her with a care and intensity that had her calling out his name and clinging to him. When he finally entered her, she was completely destroyed, the climax wracking her to the core.
Afterwards, he held her in his arms gently, his own body shuddering from the vast intensity of sensations that consumed them both.
He was in love with her. It had happened gradually. He was in love with her and wanted nothing more than to spend his life with her.
Easing her away from him, he searched her face, taking in the moistness still on her cheeks and her spiky lashes.
"You're going to have to marry me."
"Don't." She shook her head wildly and felt her heart breaking.
He held her firmly when she started to move away.
"I'm not done."
"You cannot say that to me." She pushed, but he held on. "We're just having fun. This is just us having a really good time." Her voice was strangled, her chest heaving.
"That's BS, pure and simple. I will certainly not grace that kind of nonsense with a response." His autocratic tone had her bristling.
"You're mistaking very good sex for much more."
His brows lifted and he was not certain if he should feel insulted or amused. He decided on the latter.
"Is that right? Are you telling me that I'm so inexperienced that I don't know the difference between lust and love?" He felt her jolt because he was holding her so closely. "Yes, Melanie, that's the bottom line. I'm in love with you."
"Please don't do this to me."
The fact that she looked genuinely anguished was cause for concern.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Anger coated his tone and had him gripping her arms. "I just told you I'm in love with you and want to marry you. I've never said that to another woman before."
"Am I supposed to feel flattered?" Anger was her only defense, because she was sinking into a pit of despair that was so consuming, it was making her ill. "The lofty and wealthy Rodney Lancashire asked me to marry him, and I should be jumping up and down with joy? Well screw that and screw you."
She paused, chest heaving.
"I never asked for any of this. I never asked you to fall in love with me and I certainly never hinted not even once that I want to get married."
The silence that followed her outburst was so ominous, she felt it surrounding her. And literally felt when he withdrew from her, mentally and then physically.
"My apologies." His voice was stiff and formal and broke her heart even more.
"I think it's best if I slept in another room tonight." With that, he slid off the bed and left her staring after him.
She should go after him. Right now, she should go and assure him that what she said had nothing to do with him. It was all her. She was the liar, the pretender here and had allowed things to get out of hand.
He deserved better. Grief sliced through her with the sharpness of a finely honed blade. After tonight, after they left here in the morning, he wouldn't want to see her again.
And even if by some slim chance he wanted to see her again, she couldn't allow it. Things had gone far enough. Bowing her head, she wept brokenly.
*****
