And yet she was an innocent, and she would be the one to pay if he accepted what she would give him.
Curse him, he wanted to hurl caution to the wind; he hurt so badly.
And she needed him—he could see the passion in her luminous green eyes.
He clenched his jaw, resolved.
She needed the release he knew he could give her. Nay, heneededto give it to her, by damn.
He intended to give it to her.
He stroked her body, gently but insistently, and felt her respond with abandon. Her face screwed in the most erotic expression he had ever had the pleasure of spying, her eyes closed, her jaw clenched.
“I-I love you!” she gasped.
The unexpected declaration lashed him as soundly as a physical blow. Pleasure so keen it was pain shot through him, and yet he wanted her to say it again, and again... and again.
Working feverishly to bring the declaration to her lips once more, pleasuring her, he swore to deny himself, and suffer as he watched the rosy flush of sexual rapture blossom upon her cheeks. Her bottom lip caught firmly between her teeth and she concentrated so intently upon the pleasure that she drew the tiniest trace of ruby red blood. Leaning forward, he lapped the salty droplet away, healing her mouth with his kiss.
He couldn’t help himself; he kissed her eyes, then her nose, her mouth... losing himself.
Again his conscience shrieked at him.
She trusted him to keep her safe—safe from his lechery. He would loathe himself did he rob her of her virginity, her virtue. He would despise himself beyond bearing if he hurt her. His finger slipped within her body once more, as though to be certain, but the filmy barrier remained to taunt him.
He grimaced, shuddering.
Bloody damn, but he couldn’t do it... Still, he could not leave her wanting either. Struggling with the needs of his own body, he worked to give her the release she required now, taking pains notto damage her maidenhead in the process. He’d brought her past the point of return, and it would be his penance to go without for himself.
“Oh, my God!” she cried, unaware that she had, and then her body shuddered in release.
Christian, aching as he was, watched the emotions that played across her face, and felt strangely triumphant in that instant.
Jessie lay unmoving for the longest while, her eyes closed tightly against the brightness of the day.
A hand moved out of her skirts—Christian’s, she acknowledged with growing mortification.
She flushed as strong fingers smoothed down her garments, repairing them. Desperately she tried to understand what had transpired between them, but shame washed over her, warming every inch of her body.
Something was wrong.
She sensed it.
She could scarcely bear to open her eyes and face him now. What must he think of her? Was she defiled? If not precisely defiled, what then was she?
If she was now disgraced, what could she do? Never would she think to lay the blame upon Christian’s shoulders, for she had silently invited him—nay, pleaded for him—to take whatever he would.
Dear God, would he depart from her life now that he’d taken the only thing of value she’d had to offer?
Eliza had said he would.
She felt sick with dread. Confusion.
“Jess?”
Her eyes flew open to meet his. He was looking at her strangely. Was it pity she spied in his gaze? Disgust?
Her voice failed her.
