Chapter Eleven
Blade had neverlingered in bed with his lovers.
Bedding them had always been about one purpose: getting the poison out of him. But in the aftermath of making love to Felicity, everything was different. He was different.
Or mayhap he had been different with her all along, and he was only realizing it now.Hell.He did not know. All he was certain of was the deep and abiding tenderness rushing through him for her.
Slowly, he returned to bone and sinew—making love to her had initially turned his mind and body into pudding. He rolled to his side, belatedly aware he was likely crushing her with his massive size, all his weight upon her.
An unexpected rush of foreign emotion seized him, clogging his throat for a moment as he drank in the sight of her, naked and flushed beside him. She was so gloriously beautiful. Making love to her still seemed as if it were a dream, despite her presence in his bed.
He never wanted her to leave.
Never wanted the night to end.
He swallowed, caught her hand in his, and raised it to his lips for a kiss. “Thank you.”
Her mouth was swollen from his kisses. The flecks of gold in her hazel gaze were more prominent. She had never been lovelier.
“No,” she returned softly. “Thankyou.”
“You are the most stunning woman I have ever seen,” he told her, and he meant those words. It was not idle flattery. Not his inner rakehell speaking.
There was more he wanted to say, so much more, clambering up his throat. But he could not find the proper words to communicate them. He wanted to tell her how much he appreciated her, how much being her first meant to him.
How much he wanted to be her only.
Hell and damnation.
The color in her cheeks heightened. “You make me feel as if I am.”
“Because you are.”
It was a travesty that she was not utterly confident. That she did not know how easily she could bring any man to his knees. Including Blade.
A sad smile curved her lips. “I shall treasure this night always. But I should go.”
A physical ache sprang from his chest. “Stay with me.”
The thick fringe of her lashes swept over her cheeks, shielding her eyes from him. “I fear I have already lingered long enough. The damage to my reputation…”
She was still in his bed, and she was already worrying about the marriage she would need to make with another man. Every part of him railed against the notion.
He squeezed her fingers. “I promised you no one would be the wiser. I will get you back to your chamber without anyone knowing, I swear. Just stay here a bit longer.”
Christ, he was pathetic.
But he didn’t care.
All he wanted was more Felicity.
She looked as if she were about to argue, so he settled his lips on hers and kissed her. He took his time, showing her all the words he wanted to say, the sentiment, ripe and confusing, within him. He had never been a man given to emotion.Hell, any empathy he had possessed had been beaten out of him in his youth. He had fled from his mother’s endless string of lovers and saved himself by inflicting further violence upon others.
But this woman—Felicity—the innate goodness and purity of her—humbled him. Made him want to be better. To be a man she deserved. And he was not ready to surrender her yet.
He broke the kiss, pressed his mouth to her cheeks, her jaw, breathing her in. “Stay with me, love.”
“Blade.” His name was a sigh in her dulcet tones.
