“For far longer than I ever admitted to myself,” he whispered. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. If you give me time, I promise I will make it up to you.”
She nodded, lips pressing together, and for a moment, he felt a rush of nervousness that even after this, even when she understood the full extent of his feelings, she wouldn’t be able to forgive everything he had put her through.
All he could do was hope.
Her fingers squeezed his, and she leaned closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder. “You know,” she murmured, “I dreamed of this moment. You, telling me you loved me. I thought if we could just be married long enough, it was sure to happen. Only…”
“I know,” he breathed, his heart squeezing. “I’m so sorry.”
Her big eyes rose to his. “I love you too,” she said, the words so unexpected, he almost drew back in surprise. “I just thought I was the only one.”
“No, no.” He drew her closer, kissing her hair, her temple, her forehead, anywhere he could reach. “No, sweetheart. You are not. I just never let you know the way I ought. That is my fault. But you are not alone in this. Not at all.”
She turned her head and returned his kiss with sweet intensity, and desire stirred in him.
He had not meant to begin anything of the sort—he’d come to her bedside with the most noble intentions. But now he burned to have her, to make her his in a way more than physical.
Before, when he had visited her bed, he had been consumed with lust, and perhaps he had loved her then, too, without knowing it. But now things had changed; the words they’d exchanged left a mark on them, as tangible as if she had carved them into his skin.
I love you.
This time he would go slowly, tease every gasp and moan from her until she knew, and accepted, and let herself be nourished by how deeply he loved her. He would give her no chance to forget it.
Desire still coarsed in his veins—but it was more than desire now. When he thought of her he saw the woman who had stood before Sherborne and shielded Sophia with her life; who insisted on breakfasting with him; who had claimed his daughter as her own from the first day; who had waited in her bed for him even when he never came.
He saw the light of her smile, heard the magic of her laugh, felt the quiet affection in her hands.
He rolled over her, and her legs parted as he trailed kisses along her jaw. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured. “Say the word, Dora, and we can lie here together with nothing more.”
Her fingers clutched at his hair, tightening, tugging, and he heard the rapid patter of her breath. “No,” she whispered. “Not again. I want it all.”
All, he could do.
He continued moving down her, running his hands along all the curves he had neglected, finding the gentle ridges of her ribs, the swell of her hips, the softness of her stomach. He pressed his nose between her breasts, then took one into his mouth, dampening the chemise.
Slowly, slowly. Although the sound she made had his heart kicking in his chest. There was need, and then there was this—this transcendent feeling that made him want to lodge himself in her chest so he might reside by her heart.
Underneath him, she writhed, and he raised his head, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “Yes?” he asked. “What do you want?”
“You know.” She stared up at him with round eyes. “You’ve always known.”
“I want you to say it.” His voice came out unintentionally husky.
“You. I have always wanted you. The way you make me feel is—” She gasped as he slid his hand up her bare thigh. He was almost painfully hard, but he wanted to make sure she was perfectly satisfied before he found release inside her. His fingers brushed her damp curls, then slowed.
“How do I make you feel?” he pushed.
“Like I’m falling apart,” she gasped, and he rewarded her honesty by sliding his fingers into her wetness. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and he watched her face to know what he should do next. Where he should touch her. She claimed he made her feel as though she were falling apart, but she should also know how it felt to be put back together. He would teach her that, even if it killed him.
And every day for the rest of their lives.
“Like this?” he murmured, stroking her in slow circles. She panted and canted her hips under him, as though she were desperately seeking more. “Is this what you want, sweetheart?”
“Yes, yes…” She looked as though words had almost forsaken her. “Yes, that. More. Don’t stop…”
“I love it when you tell me what to do.” He kissed her cheek, then took her earlobe in his teeth, tugging gently. When he slid a finger inside her, she clenched around him. “Order me about for your pleasure, Dora. Tell me what you want. Command me. I am yours for the commanding.”
Her eyes turned to his, surprise in their depths, but to his delight, she didn’t hesitate. “I want you inside me,” she whispered.
