“I asked ye a question, princess,” he said. “It seemed that I didn’t have your attention. Now, I do.”
Her low belly clenched at his rough tone. But she was Clio, and he was Hector, and so she feigned being unaffected.
“You owe me a new shift,” she said accusingly.
He kissed the spot between her breasts, and any effort at pretending to be angry evaporated.
“Haven’t you heard, sweetheart? I’m a duke. I can afford it.”
She laughed at that, and when he kissed a line down her belly, she could tell that his lips were curved up into a smile.
She knew where he was going this time, so as he traveled lower, down over her ribs and to the bones of her hips, she trembled with anticipation of that touch where she needed him most. He made her wait for it, the obstinate wretch that he was. His fingers traced aimless patterns on her thighs, her sides, even the outer curve of her behind.
She found herself babbling insensibly.
“Please, Hector.” Her voice sounded very far off. “Please. Don’t make me wait. I need you.”
Maybe it had been his plan all along, or maybe her begging pleased him enough to grant her wishes, but he gave in, pressing his mouth to her center. He licked and sucked at her like he was a man dying, and that made sense, because she was dying, too, because certainly nobody could live through this onslaught of pleasure.
One of his hands gripped her outer thigh so roughly that she knew there would be small bruises, and the idea was nearly enough to tip her over into her crisis. She needed just a little bit more, however.
“Hector, please.” She didn’t know any other words. “Please. Please. Please.”
His fingers were a too gentle touch at first, and then they weren’t; they were plunging, reaching, seeking something?—
And when he found it, she fell, tumbled into sensation, everything in her clenching and relaxing so marvelously, and her hands were in his hair, and one heel was pressing into the mattress so she could push herself up against his mouth even harder. And God,God. How could she have ever felt alone when he was right here with her?
She was still mumbling when the ringing in her ears faded.
“Marvelous,” she said. “Utterly marvelous. You’re a terror. A wonderful terror.”
He guided his mouth away, then his hands. He pressed a damp kiss to her hip, then manhandled her over onto her side. He laid down behind her and pulled the covers over them, tucking her neatly into the curve of his body.
He was still fully dressed and, even so, Clio could feel the burning heat of his arousal against the curve of her rear.
“Can I not—” she asked vaguely, sounding practically drunk as she reached back a hand in a clumsy grab.
He caught her fingers and pressed a kiss to the back of her knuckles, then tucked her hand firmly around her front, his arm over her, keeping her in place.
“Not tonight, princess,” he said, and Clio realized that the nickname had become dear to her at some point along the way. “Just sleep, all right?”
He could not have made an easier request; she was already halfway back to sleep. She grumbled her assent, just so that he knew she wasn’t completely giving in, and he pressed another laughing kiss to the back of her hair.
As a heavy blanket of darkness pulled her under, Clio smiled faintly. This had been good. This had been right. Maybe it would even fix things.
Except in the morning, when she woke, she woke alone, the bedsheets abandoned and already gone cold.
CHAPTER 21
“Aunt Clio! Aunt Clio, look! Watch me dance!”
Clio shaded her eyes to watch Cordelia—affectionately known as Cordy to her family—do something that Clio supposedwasa dance, though not in any style she could identify.
Still, she politely applauded the little girl’s efforts.
“Marvelous, darling!” she called. “You’re a rare talent.”
Cordy beamed in a way that said she didn’t truly understand the significance of the words, but that she understood what praise sounded like—and that she had been a frequent recipient of it from the adoring adults in her life.
