He shifted her onto her back and rose up over her, all without withdrawing from her wet sheath. He lifted one leg to balance on his shoulder, kissing her calf, and then he began to take herhard and fast. She shoved a hand between her legs, stroking herself as she watched in fascination as he went from man in control to something closer to beast. Oh yes, she wanted that beast. Wanted to feel the shift of him as his pleasure mounted, to hear his moans and gasps as she squeezed herself in time to his thrusts.
At last he cried out her name and then withdrew. He acted as if he would pump away from her, but she caught him, tangling her fingers in his and directed him so that his release splashed onto her legs, her stomach, one final proof that she had bested him. Although he was correct that they had both won here. A strange idea, really.
He collapsed over her, kissing her, stroking his hands over her. For a while, she let him, relaxing into the gentle strength of him, the soothing sensations of him holding her. Her body still tingled with the remnants of pleasure and what she wanted, more than anything, was to stay like this. In his arms and in his bed, for as long as he would allow it.
She opened her eyes and stared up, over his bare shoulder, at the wispy canopy draped over the big bed. This was exactly what she needed to avoid. She no longer belonged in this world. Playing at its edges was far too dangerous. She had what she’d come for, after all. Finn had promised not to speak to her cousin or anyone else about her whereabouts.
“Stay,” he murmured against her neck, his lips brushing her skin as he spoke.
She shivered at the touch. This temptation was against everything she’d built. Everything she was now. But she found herself nodding.
“For a while,” she whispered in return, and when he shifted a little over her, pressing his body against hers with the promise of pleasure still to come, she smiled.
What could a little while longer hurt?
CHAPTER 10
Finn lay on his side hours later, watching Esme sleep. The light from the dying fire spread a soft glow across her skin and he traced the shaft of it with his fingertips. They had made love until exhaustion had taken her, and normally he might crow about his prowess in this moment.
Only that exhaustion seemed to have at least something to do with what she’d confessed to him in the last twenty-four hours. Everything to do with the fact that she’d been running, she believed for her life, since her father’s death.
He frowned at the thought. While what Esme had told him about her cousin and his behavior since the marquess’s death was deeply troubling, he wasn’t certain it amounted to murder. The very idea of it was shocking. Heartbreaking. Enraging.
Chilton had been the best of men. If someone had snuffed out his life, he hadn’t deserved it. But whoever had done it did deserve the harsh hand of justice to slam down on him and make sure he paid.
Esme let out a little sigh and turned toward him. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, her expression softened by sleep. “What are you thinking about?” she whispered.
“How gorgeous you are in firelight,” he said before he leaned in and kissed her.
She returned the caress, cupping his cheek with her hand and letting out a shuddering sigh of pleasure. But when she pulled back, she looked undeterred. “That’s a sweet thing to say, but it’s also a half truth.”
He arched a brow. “And you can read me so well?”
She was quiet for a moment and caught the hand he had been tracing along her skin. They both watched as she folded her fingers around his. “Over the years I’ve learned to read men as much as possible.”
He frowned at the reasons why she’d had to make such a study. Frowned at the idea that she’d ever been unsafe out in the world. Her cousin definitely deserved to pay for that.
“I was thinking that your cousin shouldn’t be allowed to get away with murder, if he did indeed commit one. Nor should he get away with dislodging your life.”
She glanced up at him. “But he did. And he will. People like him always do.”
“Unless,” he began, and then cut himself off.
She sat up a little. “Unless what, Finn?”
“Unless someone like him decides to intervene.”
Now she sat fully up and inched away from him on the bed. He frowned at the loss of her touch and the way that her expression went guarded. "What are you saying?”
“I could investigate,” he said. “I could push. I could find out the truth.”
It felt like an ice-cold hand had pushed into Esme’s chest, wrapped around her heart and was now squeezing. Shegasped for breath even as she tugged the coverlet up around herself.
“What happened to your promise that you would never speak to my cousin about me?” she snapped.
“I wouldneverbring you up, Esme. I’m not talking about confronting him or revealing you. I said I wouldn’t and I won’t.”
The edge of her fear faded a little as she stared into his eyes. As she’d told him before, she had learned to study men for their genuine character, to guard herself against attacks. But Finn looked earnest in his suggestion.
