“If you cannot bear to see me this way,” he said, his breathing harsh now, “I suggest you go.”
“No,” she whispered, and clung to his hand more tightly. “I won’t.”
He shook his head. He was swiftly losing any grip on control when she touched him, even in a benign way. When it was gone, he would let words come from his mouth that he wouldn’t be able to take back. He would perhaps do things that would bring them both pleasure, but he knew now would also wash him away in greater pain later. At least until he could forget that watching her with another man tore him apart.
“Did you and my brother quarrel?” she asked. “Or did something remind you of those past hurts we discussed last night?”
He dropped his head. She was relentless. He’d always liked that about her. When she focused on a topic, it wasn’t something she released until she was satisfied. And when it was a book or an artist or a piece of history, it was glorious to watch her dissect it.
It felt less so when it was him she was picking at, not realizing fully what was there to unleash.
“It’s you,” he finally choked out.
Her fingers loosened on his briefly, though she didn’t drop his hand. She just stared up at him, shafts of moonlight making her eyes look soft and dreamy. “M-Me?” she repeated.
“Yes,” he growled, and he placed the hand she wasn’t holding against the bare skin of the side of her neck. He traced the line there gently and loved how she trembled with reaction to his touch, how her pulse fluttered in reaction. “You, Marianne.”
“How could that be possible?” she whispered.
“Because I see you with him, with all thosehimsout there, and I feel this gnawing ache in me.”
“Sebastian,” she whispered, almost with no voice.
But he couldn’t stop now. The bottle was uncorked. “I feel thistormentingdesire to push you into a corner and remind you thatI’mthe one who made you shudder with pleasure not even twenty-four hours ago. And I hate it, Marianne. I hate feeling this way. I hate wanting to do that,needingto touch you so I can remindmyselfthat you were mine once. So if you are as intelligent as I know you are, you’ll go. Please, Marianne. Just go.”
CHAPTER 19
Marianne couldn’t move as Sebastian’s rough words washed over her like a caress. In the darkness of the parlor, in the shadows, his confession felt raw and powerful. It overwhelmed her because she felt not only his desire for her still pulsing beneath the surface, but something deeper. Something that called to the love she felt for him and gave her hope she knew would only lead to despair.
And it didn’t matter. She couldn’t do as he asked. She couldn’t walk away and pretend this draw didn’t exist and that it wasn’t undeniable.
She shivered as she edged a little closer, hearing his breath catch in the dark when her body brushed his. She lifted up on her tiptoes slowly and wrapped her hand around the back of his neck to urge his lips to hers. There was a moment when he didn’t move, but then he did, relaxing toward her. When they met, the kiss was so gentle that she nearly burst into tears right there.
She didn’t want to do that, so she traced his lips with her tongue and he made a deep, guttural moan before his arms clasped around her and he molded her hard to his chest. He drove his tongue into her mouth, almost punishing, like he could make her run away with his passion if not with his request.
Of course that wasn’t true. The passion only inspired her more. She lifted against him, desire washing over her the same way it had the night before. But now she knew what she wanted, she knew what would happen. There was no longer a rising, faceless fear when she touched him, but a wonderful anticipation of the wave that she knew would at some point sweep her into pleasure.
She wanted that. Nothing else mattered in that moment. At least not to her. But perhaps it did to him because he broke away from her at last, pressing his forehead to hers.
“This isn’t fair,” he whispered, and his voice cracked.
She wrinkled her brow. Did he mean for her? Or for himself? She traced his cheek with her palm and he turned his face into it to kiss the skin there, sending ripples of sensation through her entire body. “What isn’t fair is wanting you so much, Sebastian. I want you so much. And I can feel you want me.”
He let out a ragged breath before he tucked her a little closer and she did, indeed, feel the evidence of his desire pressed hard and heavy against her stomach. She ached for it and for him.
“It’s private here,” he murmured, she thought more to himself than to her. “No one knows we came to this room. No one saw.”
She realized he was convincing himself and so she kept her mouth shut so she wouldn’t disrupt him.
“It’s dark,” he continued. “Only shadow, almost not real. We could pretend we’re not us, just two lovers who found each other and couldn’t resist.”
She shivered at that idea, even as she looked up into the dark shape of his face. “Sebastian, I could never pretend you aren’t you. Never.”
He hesitated a moment and she thought perhaps she’d brought him back to reality. That he would push her away and deny them both. But instead he bent his head again and his mouth found hers. His kiss was sweet, burning against her as their tongues tangled in the silence of the room. She was swept up in him, washed away and she knew, just as she knew her own name, that this would happen. He wouldn’t deny her.
And she ached for what they were about to share. His hands found the buttons along the back of her gown, slipping them free even as he continued kissing her. She did the same on his jacket and the waistcoat beneath, pushing them both at once so she could get to bare skin faster.
He chuckled at her ardor and shrugged the fabric away before he tugged her dress forward and then traced the line of her throat with his tongue. The trail he made was like fire and she moaned at the pleasure of the sensation. She buried her fingers into his thick hair, arching against him as he sucked and licked.
