He gave it to her, moving his finger in and out of her. His mouth moved lower still until he reclaimed her nipple, sucking and licking and using his teeth to tug gently on her flesh.
She widened her legs—or tried to, but that brought her pantaloons up. He muttered something, then left her breast. He quickly stripped her boots off, then peeled her pantaloons from her legs.
Then he was quiet, and the air was still.
Anne opened her eyes to see him staring at her sex, his lips parted, his hand against her folds. “What’s wrong?” she asked, her voice cracking.
“Nothing is wrong. And maybe that’s—” He clenched his jaw. His gaze found hers, and she nearly gasped at the intensity in his eyes. “I don’t wish to frighten you.”
“You could never.” How she wanted him. Loved him.
“Don’t say that.”
She had to strain to hear him. Rising up on her elbow, she reached for him. He pressed his hand against her, teasing her flesh once more.
“Time for you to come for me, Mrs. Dazzling.” He cupped the back of her neck and kissed her while his finger, no, fingers, speared into her. “Let yourself go. Don’t think. Just feel.”
His thumb worked over her clitoris, moving with rapid strokes that drove her body to move. She met his thrusts as he threaded his fingers into her hair, pulling her head back. He kissed her jaw, her throat, the side of her neck, his hand moving over her and into her sex with merciless precision until she sensed what he’d told her.
Sensation rushed through her as she barreled toward something. Her body tightened as pleasure sparked in her core. “Yes,” he rasped against her mouth. “Now.”
Ecstasy tore through her. She held on to him so she wouldn’t spin away into an unforgiving darkness. He guided her through the blissful devastation, his movements slowing.
She collapsed back upon the bed, her chest heaving as she fought to regain her breath. After several moments, she realized he was pulling her pantaloons back up over her. Opening her eyes, she lifted her head to look at him. In profile, his features were drawn, his jaw tight.
“What’s wrong?” She sat up and reached for his hand.
“I told you, nothing is wrong.”
“You look troubled.”
He stopped with her pantaloons and turned his face toward her. “Unlike you, I did not find my release, nor will I.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t even try to talk me into that. You’ve already done enough.”
“I’ve done enough?” She found the cloth she’d used to bind her breasts and began to wind it around her torso, despite an almost overwhelming urge to burrow into the covers of the bed and demand he join her.
“I should not have allowed you to talk me into this,” he said, fetching her boots and pushing them back onto her feet.
“I have no regrets,” she said softly. “And all the gratitude in the world.” She tied the binding, though not as tightly as before. Her breasts still tingled from his touch. Her entire body still thrummed. She didn’t want it to stop.
He handed her the men’s shirt, and she put her hand on his. “Does it really have to just be today?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He let go of the shirt, taking his hand from beneath hers, and walked away from the bed. “I told you why.”
His wife.
Anne pulled the shirt on and found the pin to hold the V closed over her breasts. After tucking the hem into her waistband, she drew on the waistcoat. “I’m not asking you to love me,” she said quietly. “I’m only asking to continue what we share. You enjoy being with me, don’t you?”
He stood near the table, his back to her. “I do.”
But he didn’t want to. He felt guilty because of the love he’d borne his wife.
“I’m not asking you to stop loving her either. I would never do that. Nor would I ever wish to take her place.”
“You could never.” He repeated the words she’d said to him earlier, but they carried an entirely different meaning, one that closed a door rather than opened one.
When her waistcoat was buttoned, she slid off the bed and plucked up the cravat. A small mirror hung near the door. She went to it and tied the cloth around her neck. The knot was far simpler than what she’d done earlier, and frankly terrible, but it was the best she could manage at the moment.
Her hair was an absolute disaster. On its best day, the locks did as they pleased, but today, with the certain thrashing she’d done on the bed, she looked as if a bird had plucked every curl free in an attempt to find the makings for a nest. “You could have just used my hair as the nest,” she muttered.
“What did you say?”
She turned from the mirror to see he’d also pivoted and was now looking at her. “I was remarking on the state of my hair. It’s a good thing I’m merely trying to hide it under a hat.”
Returning to the bed, she found the pins that had been dislodged and set about securing it back atop her head in the most severe style possible.
He came to the bed and picked up his coat, drawing it on with ease. Pity, she liked looking at him in his shirtsleeves. His dark red waistcoat had stretched taught across his shoulder blades, accentuating the muscles beneath. She wanted to see them bare. She wanted to see all of him that way.
Tucking the last pin into her hair, she snagged his hand and held it up to her chest. She looked into his eyes. “Is there no part of you that you can share with me?”
His nostrils flared. “I have shared all that I can.”
“I’m not sure I believe you. I would take any part of you. I
