He trailed a finger along the curve of her cheek. “On to the next question, hmm?”
With the taste of Lottie on his tongue, the rounded curves of her arse quivering like a mouth-watering aspic, Jack had to wrestle with his hunger. He had to beat back that part of him that wanted to grab her by the hips, thrust his iron-hard prick into her tight, wet cunny, and plow her until they both forgot their names.
His wife was right; he did have troglodytic tendencies. Of course, she was the only one who brought them out in him. Her refusal to discuss her lovers had triggered his need to assert his claim. He respected her right to remain quiet on the matter even as he hated himself more for making this an issue in the first place.
No cock but his should have been in Lottie’s pussy.
No man but he should have known the bliss of her heat and passion.
From now on, no man touches her but me. She’s bloody mine.
In that moment, he knew. The realization was like sunlight shafting through the clouds during a downpour, improbable yet spectacular.
He was going to fight to get Lottie back.
Even if it meant going against his mentor’s advice, exposing his worst sins and the ugliness of his soul, he would do it. Because Lottie was worth it. Their relationship was worth it.
The clarity stunned him and came with a burst of optimism. He was going to find a way to win his wife back. Maybe not tonight, maybe not this week or even this month, but he was going to do it. Bloody hell, he’d foiled assassination attempts, stopped an explosive device from detonating, lived under false identities for fifteen years…surely, he could convince his beloved to take another chance on him.
He just had to bide his time. Play his cards right. Starting now.
He ran a finger from the nape of her neck down her spine, loving how she quivered but did not stop him. He needed her open and vulnerable—needed her to tell him one thing. He traced the dip in her back, then lower, circling the pucker still moist from his kiss. Reminding her of their intimacy, of what they allowed one another, the depth of their bond.
Then he fisted her hair, turning her head so that their eyes locked.
“Can you forgive me?” he asked.
Her eyes widened, and he held his breath. Because if she said no…
“Yes,” she whispered.
Relief and joy whipped through him, and he turned her over and pulled her to sitting, needing to see the truth in her face. And it was there.
It was there.
“Could you…could you give me another chance?” he said hoarsely.
“Perhaps?” Her expression was somber, thoughtful. “The truth is I don’t know, Sebastian.”
“I understand. After what I did?—”
“Now that you’ve explained the circumstances that led to your choice, I understand and do forgive you.” She drew a breath. “But I don’t know if I can open myself up to hurt and disappointment again.”
He wanted to say he would never cause her either, but he couldn’t promise that, could he? Not when he hadn’t told her the truth of who he was. Of what she would be giving up married to him.
“At the same time, there is the way I feel when I am with you.” Her eyes had a brilliance that made his breath catch. “Alive, and, I don’t know,free—well, I haven’t felt this way in twelve years. And certainly not with anyone else.”
That was something, at least. Something he could work with. Build on.
“Even though I’ve found a purpose and done meaningful things, I wonder now if a part of me hasn’t been just going through the motions,” she said.
“Sleepwalking,” he murmured. “I know how it feels.”
She touched his jaw, and he clasped her hand, absorbing the warmth of her forgiveness, feeling it flow into him and give him strength.
“My answer is not ano,” she said. “It’s anI don’t know.”
It was a fair response, better than he expected. In fact, it was better not to rush into things this time around. He still had to give her the full truth…and hopefully, do it in such a way that wouldn’t send her running for the hills.
