She shivered at that thought. He’d been her first love and yet she’d been so careful never to throw that in Elliot’s face. She’d kept the past to herself, the hole Peter had left behind in her heart ignored.
And secretly Elliot had known all along?
As she pivoted yet again, the door to the bedchamber opened and Elliot stepped in. She didn’t think or plan, just raced toward him in a few long strides.
“How could you do that?” she burst out, lifting her hands to…well, she wasn’t exactly certain what. Strike him? It was what she wanted to do right now as he looked at her with that impassive expression, like he hadn’t just stripped her entire world apart.
He caught her wrists before she could do something so foolhardy, but instead of pushing her away, he yanked her close, all the way against his chest so she could feel him down the entire length of her body.
“Do you think after all these years,” he said, using that low, commanding tone he knew drove her mad, “after every time I’ve played your body like an instrument, that I don’t know what you desire, Merritt?”
She’d been fighting him, pulling against him, but now she stopped and just stared up into his face. “Elliot—”
“That I haven’t heard your breath catch when you hear someone talk about the plays of Peter Reid?” He leaned in closer, his lips nearly brushing hers. “That I don’t know you pore over every article that is written about him, every review?”
He didn’t sound angry even though everything he’d just said had to be seen as a betrayal. She felt guilty about it as he spoke, wished she could deny his charges when she couldn’t.
She tugged, and this time he released her. She staggered back, struggling to catch her breath in the quiet of the room. She smoothed her hands over her skirts as if she could rub away her tangled emotions.
“How long?” she whispered.
He was silent for a fraction of a moment. “Since my father died. When I was going through his effects, I found letters sent between him and your father. They were written at the beginning of our courtship and after our engagement. Both were worrying over the influence of this lost love of yours. How Peter Reid would impact our union.”
She turned her face. Part of her just felt terrible that Elliot had learned the truth in such a horrible way, at the height of what had been one of the most difficult times of his life. But the other part…the other part made her seethe all over again.
“Elliot,” she said, clenching her hands at her sides. “Your father diedeightyears ago. You’ve known about Peter for eight years and you never said a word to me? You just went behind my back and…did what? Hunted him?”
His mouth tightened in displeasure. “I supported his career. Helped him become the celebrated playwright he was meant to be.”
“You bastard,” she choked out. “Why didn’t you just speak to me?”
He moved toward her again and his expression had softened in the slightest. “Because, my dear, you are allowed your past. Your fantasies. I’ve always accepted them, haven’t I? Nurtured them when I could.” He reached out and dragged his fingers along her cheek. Despite her emotions, she couldn’t help but shiver at the electric awareness his touch always created in her. “How is this any different?”
He turned her so her back was to him, pulling her against his chest. She shut her eyes, sensation washing over her, mixing with the confusion she felt. It was a potent mixture.
“It is entirely different,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him as he began to unfasten her gown one button after another. It was so hard to focus when he did that. She had to believe that was his purpose. “You brought Peter here to…what in the world did you want him to do? Wantmeto do?”
“What I want is for you to have your pleasure. Your fantasy.”
He pushed her gown forward, then over her hips. She stepped out of the circle of fabric and turned to face him. She knew that look on his face so well. He wanted her. Not just wanted her, wanted to utterly devour her. To make her come until she was weak. She shivered.
“And you think my fantasy is having him?” she asked.
He nodded slowly and looped his fingers beneath her chemise so he could glide it from her body, leaving her naked. “Having him. Having me. Having us.”
Her eyes went wide. “You both. Together?”
She said it and her mind went wild with images of just such a thing. They bombarded her with a dozen scenarios that brought her right to the edge of orgasm without either man ever touching her.
And then Elliot did. His fingers slid between her thighs, stroked upward, dragging the tips through the wetness of her sex. He smiled as he lifted them and let her see the shiny evidence.
“Both of us together, Merritt,” he agreed. “I will share you for your pleasure. For my own.”
He leaned in and his mouth caught hers. She couldn’t resist him. She’d never been able to. She wound her arms around his neck, lifting into him, reveling in the push of his tongue through her lips, the grip of his hands as he slid them down her back and cupped her backside. He massaged the curve of her, grinding her against him, and she whimpered into his mouth.
“Should I call him in?” he asked, putting his hand back between her legs. He began to circle her clitoris with his fingers, bringing throbbing, desperate pleasure there. She dipped her head back, trying to maintain purchase and control. Knowing it wasn’t possible.
He would take what he wanted. He would give when he wanted. He would have her on her knees, probably quite literally, when he was finished. And she would love every minute of it. And the idea that he would bring Peter into that potent mix? That he would allow her what she had been denied for so many years?
