He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I shouldn’t have come to your house like that. I’m sure I gave your servants something to chat about.”
“You were very brave.”
“Brave? Mrs. Young could be intimidating, I suppose.”
She chuckled. “I mean brave not to go to The Octagon. When you left last night, I was angry with you, and I was certain you would have fought again.”
He took her hand. “I shouldn’t have asked you to punch me. I’m sorry. I wasn’t myself.”
“You were desperate, but you found the strength to stop yourself from going to the ring. I’m so proud of you.”
“It was harder than I thought and draining.” He touched his face again. “Look at me. I feel bloodless.”
She wrapped her arms around him. His muscles were hard and tense, but his embrace was sweet and caring. He smelled of citrus and rain.
“What stopped you? Why didn’t you go?” she asked.
“You stopped me. Your words tormented me until I had to listen to them.”
She caressed his hair. The firelight hit his blond curls with red and golden hues. He closed his eyes as she tangled her fingers through his hair.
“I’m glad you listened to me,” she whispered. “Do you believe now that you can leave this deadly need behind?”
He gave her a sad smile. “With your help, yes.”
He traced her cheek, chin, and neck with a finger, his gaze lighting with a familiar hunger. Her spine wilted under his touch.
“I want you, Effie. I’ll never grow tired of saying that.”
Her reply was a sigh.
He kissed her cheek and the corner of her mouth slowly. “If you say yes, if you want to be with me, nothing will change. I’ll propose anyway.”
He didn’t need that speech because she already knew that, and she knew herself well enough to get what she wanted. She wanted him.
“I say yes, Tristan. To you, to everything.”
Tristan had found a new addiction.
Pain was nothing compared to his need to pleasure Effie. It was a longing so strong that it turned into starvation.
She had no idea how difficult it was to contain his desire for her.
Watching her bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and parted lips triggered a storm of emotions he had to rein in. Her ‘yes’ filled him with hope and love.
Holding her hand, he led her to his bedroom, careful not to meet any servants. Before locking the door, he gave her another chance to change her mind.
“I won’t disappoint you,” he said. “But if you wish to leave, you have only to say it.”
She shook her head. “Here is where I want to be.”
The beast inside him purred in happiness. He locked the door and kissed her, feeling her soft lips under his. Ignoring the quick pang of pain shooting through his body, he gathered her in his arms and laid her in his bed.
That was where she belonged, in his bed, among silk pillows and soft candlelight, in his arms.
After bunching her skirts up, he caressed her lovely legs, and she rolled her hips, perhaps unaware of doing so. The sweet scent of her skin wafted from underneath the layers of silk covering her. Too many. He wanted to see her properly. He wanted to see if her whole skin was as pink as her cheeks.
He pushed her knees apart and filled the space with his shoulders. Alarm widened her eyes when he opened the slit of her drawers. He gave her a moment to realise what was coming, brushing her intimately. Her response was immediate. A ripple went through her, culminating in a soft moan.
