Aaron planted a kiss on her thigh. “You know, this would be easier if you lay back.”
“Then where would the challenge be?” She teased even as she analyzed the angles, or more the consequences, if she obliged and completely let go, completely trusted him, completely let herself take pleasure with no other concerns.
“Fair enough, though I’d like you to swoon with my prowess, not because you slip and hit your head.” He kissed her again, this time right on her hip bone, laying his chin down to gaze at her.
For some inexplicable reason, something like tears marred her vision for a moment as an unbearable yearning welled in her chest.
“Well, I suppose that would get you in a bit of trouble,” she managed to say as she swallowed down terrifying emotion. With as much grace as she could, shaking only a little, she lay herself back and closed her eyes, just as he gripped her hips to pull her closer.
Liquid desire stirred in every pore as he returned to her, keeping time with those slow circles as she moved her hips to the same rhythm. She ground against him, begging with her body as he slipped another finger inside her, the stretching, filling sensation sparking away any fears and doubts in a blaze of heat until there was only him.
She cried his name, reaching down to grip his hair.
“There you go,” he whispered against her, his voice thick. “Just like that, love. Show me how much you want me.”
Her breath caught in her throat for a moment at the word “love,” even as she told herself it was a mere colloquial term of endearment and not to be taken literally. Mercy, she needed to get out of her own head and just feel. Just enjoy the pleasure she could have.
“I want you,” she cried, pressing herself closer as his tongue stroked, firm and sure. “I want you, Aaron. Please.”
“Please what?” he groaned the words, hot against her thigh.
“Please . . .”Love me.The words echoed in her head, and she had to bite her lip not to blurt them out. Because that was not going to happen. Not with him. Not with anyone. She had all the love she could handle in her life. She swallowed. “Please make me feel.”
With a primal growl, he returned to her, taking her faster and higher all too quickly until she rolled over that impossible edge, crashing like the fireworks outside the window, her body shuddering and bucking even as he held firm, continuing through the shocks.
All too soon, they’d ended and he eased up between her legs, kissing each knee, before he pulled her up into a sitting position, rearranging her skirt so she was covered with an almost-sweet gentleness. A gentleness that near broke something inside her as the heaviness returned, filling all her cavities.
She forced a smile at him and nodded.
“Did I rise to the challenge?” he asked as he repinned a loose wave back into her chignon.
“Very much so.” She made her voice bright before pausing and clasping her hands together. She bit her lip, but the truth somehow spilled out a little anyway. “Though if I had my way . . .”
“But you don’t, do you?” He gazed at her, his deep brown eyes sad.
“No.” She shook her head, the tears threatening once more, even as she forced them back again and again.
Aaron kissed the tip of her nose. “Then it’s time for you to go. People will be looking for you.”
She could only nod as he wrapped his arms around her waist, probably for the last time, and lifted her off the table, placing her firmly back on the ground.
Aaron sneaked a fourth piece of cake into his mouth as he leaned against the curtain behind the ballroom dais. Neither the conquest in obtaining the food nor the act of eating assuaged any of the swirling mixture of guilt, joy, sadness, and more guilt in his gut.
What had he done? What had they done?Schmuck, schmuck, schmuck.The way she’d looked at him and screamed his name and told him things she’d allegedly told no one else and made him feel like he was, well, special. That he was enough just being himself with her, despite his lack of schooling and money and brains and—he was all muddled. Completely muddled. Which he could not be. Not now.
Which was why he needed to stay alert, finish his job, find a new community to which to flee when he was banished by the Berabs, and now, apparently, find a way to forget her and what they’d just shared.
Speaking of which—Aaron bit back a sigh as the younger Berabs strolled over to him, boxing him between a decorative shrub and a large gilded clock.
“We trust you’ve been doing what you are told.” It was—what was his name again? Rupert? Roger?—who spoke the words. The other one—Lyon? Lysander?—stood beside him, arms folded across his chest.
“Especially as no suitable alternatives have stepped forward,” his brother said, with such an odd note in his voice that Aaron wondered if that was their doing. Even if that was impossible. The Berabs couldn’t successfully threaten every Sephardi man. There wasn’t the time.
“Time is dwindling for Miss Lira,” Roger continued, breaking his thoughts, before sauntering away.
“And for you,” the other brother—Louis! That was it, right?—added arrogantly before scurrying after his brother, nose in the air.
Ugh. They were truly awful, weren’t they?
