Then, still quiet, he lowered his head between her legs and licked the slit to her core. The sensation nearly took her breath away. A tremor started inside her, the wetness gushing out as his tongue teased her. Her hips began to roll and she felt the pressure inside that overwhelmed the embarrassment of him doing this to her rumpled self. He was bringing her again to that point of explosion when he stopped and gave her a grin.
Her body was so busy begging for his return that it stole her voice. She could only groan, reaching for him when he stretched and fell across her, his erect manhood sliding right inside her. Again, they danced the ancient dance and, amidst moans and gasps, her world turned upside down as he unloaded his seed, his tightened rod vibrating deep inside her.
They remained that way, locked in an embrace until they cooled some. He pulled up, giving her a Cheshire cat grin and he rolled out of the bed. Scooping up his littered clothes, he gave her a nod and slipped out of the room as quietly as he could.
She realized when he left her, the loneliness she’d hidden most of her life, now filled her enough to make her want to cry. He was everything she despised. Why was she longing for him now?
Mad at herself, she got up, went straight to the washstand and with the linen rag, scrubbed every inch of her she could, particularly her breasts and the apex of her thighs. She then picked up her clothes, laying them across the straight back chair, straightening the room as if nothing had happened, and crawled back into bed.
By morning, she met him for breakfast and all that anger that filled her last night dissipated when he gave her that seductive glance. She was hooked, until Will arrived…
She groaned in anger. Pushing the memories of last night to the back of her mind, making sure any of the pleasant parts laid buried. Mad at herself, she wondered what was wrong with her to sleep with him? Could Will tell of her transgression? Would Richard know? Oh, how she had betrayed the man who loved her. She wanted to scream.
Chapter 30
“No, no, mix ‘em up. I’m tired of States’ Rights.”
—General George Henry Thomas at a Union cemetery at Orchard Knob when chaplain as if burials should be by state like other cemeteries.
Amherst Mansion, New York City
Again, they were at a social gala that made Ada’s skin itch. Laughter filled the air along with the scent of evergreens and lilies. Greenery swung from every rafter, ribbons of red and gold woven in that danced off the candlelight. Men in Union blue, officers from what she could tell with insignia and designations, drank with New York’s wealthy and the ladies attending vied for every man of standing who might be single. The laughter is what ate at her soul, for she knew of the hundreds who’d never see another holiday, dance another dance or attend a soiree ever again, thanks to this awful war. The thousands who now lay in the hospital beds, recovering—or dying—or sick with illnesses most here would never see. What would these people think if they knew of those soldiers? Would they stop? Would they help? Outside of donations to the Sanitary or Christian Commissions, no, and even that was doubtful.
“Here, drink this before you go make a scene.”
Ada snapped out of her inner conflict to find Francois shoving a champagne glass into her hand. She eyed him with a narrow gaze. “Was I that obvious?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her his lopsided grin, knowing it’d get her to smile. It always did and succeeded now.
The man was too dapper in his black frock coat, gray waistcoat and black trousers. Those sapphire eyes sparkled in the candlelight, amusement hinting at his lips. He could take her to ecstasy and destroy her with one southern lilt. Whenever he touched her, she melted. But then left to her own devices, reminding herself of who he was, turned her blood to ice. He was tearing her apart.
“You realize Christmas is in four days.”
She took a sip of the bubbly drink to swallow the lump that formed in her throat. “Yes, I seem to recall that.”
He twisted his lips, deep in thought. “And your furlough is over when?”
“Six days after. Travel will be needed then to arrive back in the capital by the second.” She smiled. Work. There was a certain amount of comfort and clarity in that.
“Would you like to dance?”
That caught her off guard. “Are you sure you want to? After last night’s gala, it might pressure you too much, slow your recovery.”
He shrugged. “I’d rather risk that over standing here, seeing Federal blue and trying to be polite. Keeping me on the dance floor will distract me.”
“As long as we dance,” she replied. “And nothing more.”
“You slay me,” he moaned, clutching his hand over his heart in a dramatic fashion and it made her laugh. He snorted with a smile and put their glasses down.
He escorted her to the dance floor and swung her in front of him right as the string quartet strummed the first chords. “As always, my beautiful angel graces me with a waltz.”
She tightened. Waltz? Shaking off the tension that threatened, she put her hand on his shoulder and the other in his palm, quickly reminding him, “It is a dance. Remember your space.”
“Oh, darlin’, but I like to be in your space.” He leaned in. “And inside you.”
Her mouth went dry right as the music started. He gracefully led her around the dance floor, in a space that he confined to one area but
