He laughed. “Of course not. I’d never sire a child out of wedlock.” And yet the thought of pumping his seed inside her caused a fluttering in his chest. He’d never imagined being a father. But he knew she could make impossible dreams come true.
“Life for a woman on her own is hard enough.”
“If you carried my child you wouldn’t be alone.”
Those words hung in the air between them. Neither were quite ready to discuss what they meant. Perhaps that’s why she stayed silent and focused on removing her dress.
He watched her untie the ribbons on her front-fastening stays, eager to catch sight of her full breasts and pretty pink nipples, nipples he would suck and tease into peaks.
Christian divested himself of all his clothes.
She finished undressing with the same sense of urgency.
His cock hardened in appreciation when she stood before him wearing nothing but her white stockings. “Now for the thing you’ll treasure forever,” he said, palming his shaft just to torment her.
Her lips parted.
He reached for his cravat and crossed the room. “This is to remind you of the man who made you come three times in one night.” He placed the silk neckcloth in her hand. “And to remind you someone in the world cares about you a great deal.”
Tears welled in her eyes.
She swallowed hard as she worked to keep them at bay.
“Keep the cravat in a memory box,” he said, trying not to think of her sitting alone in a backstreet hovel. “Sell the diamond stickpin, so you need never go hungry again.” He brushed the errant tear from her cheek and sought to lighten the mood. “And now for the gift you’ve been aching for all night.”
When they kissed, he tasted the salt of more tears on her lips. He cradled her throat gently, knowing that no matter how deeply he drank he would not quench his thirst.
This second time felt different.
Their tongues danced together—a slow, sensual waltz, not a crazed jig. The focus was on deepening their connection, not rushing to find release. Their energy was no less compelling. The inner flame of desire burned so fiercely he might combust.
Was this silent outpouring of emotion love?
He’d felt nothing like it in his life.
But he couldn’t tell her in words. Not yet. He’d not use it as a means to control her. If she wanted him, she had to make that decision on her own. Besides, the little moans escaping her throat stole his attention. The way her nipples brushed his chest had his pulse quickening.
With one hand, he cupped her buttocks, caressing the tiny dimple between her cheeks. “Tell me what you desire?” he whispered, kissing her shoulder. “Tonight, I am yours to command.”
“Take me slowly,” she uttered, her damp lashes fanning her cheeks. “I want to watch you when you do. I want to remember every precious second. I want to feel everything keenly.”
“Then come to bed.” He captured her hand, drew her to his impressive four-poster and dragged back the coverlet and sheets.
“It’s rather large,” she said.
“Every inch of it is yours.”
“I was referring to the bed.”
“So was I.”
Her chuckle became a squeal as he scooped her into his arms and laid her down on the mattress. Hell, with this woman he’d act the fool if it meant stemming her tears.
“I assume you know where I might start.” His gaze fell to the apex of her thighs as he imagined burying his head there and lavishing her gem. But then he had a sudden epiphany. “If it pleases you, we might do things a little differently.”
Her eyes widened. “How?”
He rounded the bed and climbed in beside her. “Straddle me.”
