Wrong Place. Wrong Time. Right Viscount.

Chapter 19

“Elle, I can…oh dear God, I can feel you.”

Alec was fairly certain he’d somehow fallen asleep and this was the sweetest dream he’d ever had. If that was so, he never wanted to wake. Seeing Elle completely unclothed had nearly dropped him to his knees. She was…God, he didn’t have a word to describe it properly. Beautiful. Stunning. Perfect. Life-altering. None of them seemed like enough. Every inch of her made his pulse race, his mouth water, his cock throb. He longed to explore her every curve, every hollow, every scar, spend hours worshiping her like the goddess she surely was.

Her undergarments had been strange to say the least, but he supposed fashion varied across the world. Perhaps all women in America wore such things. Then all men in America are lucky bastards, indeed.

When he’d tasted her, he thought he might die. And the way she’d reacted? Rolling those luscious hips to his mouth, begging him for more, finding her release on his tongue with wild abandon. It had made him so hard that his cockstand was painful. Sinking inside her body had felt like heaven. She was so tight around his cock, it felt like a fist, so slick and hot, he nearly spilled the second he entered her. He’d somehow managed to last, and it was unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

He”d admittedly had plenty of women in his life, but this was so completely different. The way Elle stared at him, the feeling in the depths of her blue eyes, it seared him to his soul. He didn’t understand why she’d refused his proposal, but right now, that didn’t matter. Nothing outside of this room, this moment, mattered.

The look of pure ecstasy on her face as she found another release, her inner walls clenching him tightly, it was enough to send him over the edge. He felt the familiar tightening at the base of his spine, and as she kissed him and whispered that she loved him, he let himself go. He yelled her name as he climaxed. He pumped deep inside her, over and over, and she moaned, scratching at his back like a cat, writhing her hips as if she…enjoyed it?

When he was done, he buried his face in the crook of her neck, both of their chests heaving. She gently stroked his back as they caught their breath, their hearts slowing over what seemed to be hours. Eventually, he lifted his head and brushed sweat-soaked tendrils of hair from her forehead, leaning in to kiss her softly. She sighed in what seemed to be utter contentment and leaned her forehead against his.

“I love you, Eleanor.” He’d never meant anything more in his life. How could three simple words somehow be the most important he would ever utter?

She let out a long exhale, and then whispered again, “I love you, too.”

His eyes slid closed as utter bliss washed over him, her words echoing in his head. I love you, I love you, I love you. Not said in the throes of passion where anyone might say all manner of things and mean none of them. No, she said it now as if she’d never meant anything more in her life.

He eventually shifted her out of his lap and laid her down on the rug, grabbing the blanket and tossing it over them as he settled down beside her. He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close, still not completely convinced this could possibly be real. She rested her head on his chest and they simply lay there in contented silence for what seemed like an eternity as the storm raged on outside.

“Was that…alright?” he finally asked.

She shifted so that she could rest her chin on her upturned hand and meet his gaze. She gave him a sensual smile, the hint of mischief that he adored sparking in her eyes.

“It was…adequate, I suppose.”

He blinked. Then blinked again.

“Adequate?”

She hiked a shoulder and gave him a superior look, one that said you tried your best, poor boy. He narrowed his eyes and reached for her, rolling so that she was pinned beneath him. She gasped and giggled.

“I am a viscount, Miss Montgomery. I do not do things adequately.” He leaned down and kissed her softly, languidly, teasing her with laps of his tongue and soft nips at her bottom lip. She was panting and squirming beneath him after just a few moments. Christ, he was already hard again, already desperate to get inside her once more, but he continued to torture her, slowly grazing his fingers along her throat, over her collarbone and between her breasts. He trailed one finger over her skin, circling her nipple but never making contact, and her breath hitched, her back bowing and begging him silently to touch her. Instead, he merely moved to the other breast, repeating the same movements. She was quivering by the time he skated his fingers down her stomach, brushing ever so gently over her quim. She bucked and the begging wasn’t so silent now.

“Alec,” she breathed, half plea, half warning.

“What was it you were saying about adequate?” he teased, leaning in and biting at her lower lip, pulling away when she tried to kiss him fully. She groaned in annoyance, but the way she was rolling her hips, the way her nipples puckered and her pupils expanded, the black nearly overtaking the brilliant blue, he knew that she was enjoying herself.

“Prove me wrong,” she challenged, voice throaty and entirely too arousing. She bit her lip and let her knees fall wide in clear invitation. He ran a finger along her opening, shuddering at how wet she already was. He quickly delved two fingers inside, and she cried out, arching her hips in time with his thrusts. He kissed her hard and demanding, and when she said his name again, he withdrew his fingers, quickly pushing back to his knees and fisting his cock. He had an idea, but…

“Do you trust me?” he asked as he stroked. Her eyes were riveted to the movements, her tongue darting out to trail lazily along her bottom lip. She...liked watching him touch himself? Christ, this woman…

“Yes,” she said, voice low and husky. He grinned at her and her breath hitched.

He released his cock, reaching out to grip her hips and lift her easily, turning her so that she was on her hands and knees before him. He groaned, running a hand down her spine and over the curves of her backside. She moaned and shivered, arching her back and shifting her knees farther apart. The view…He bit the inside of his cheek, nearly releasing again just watching her, spread and ready before him, that perfect arse in the air.

He ran the head of his cock across her opening as he palmed her ass and she moaned, begging. He hissed through clenched teeth when he slid inside, the feeling just as intense and incredible as it had been the first time.

He didn’t begin slowly this time. He knew that he wouldn’t hurt her and that she was ready for whatever he had to give. So, he took her hard, pounding into her, wrenching her hips back as he moved.

“Oh God, yes! Yes, yes, yes,” she panted. “Harder. Fuck, Alec. Harder!”

The words were like music to his ears and he obeyed her commands, wanting to give her anything and everything she wanted. Always. He loved that she was vocal, that she demanded and pleaded. He pounded into her from behind, her screams of pleasure and the sounds of their bodies slamming together mixing with the rain and thunder.

What felt like hours later, they’d both found release again and they lay sprawled over the rug. The storm had finally ebbed now, only occasional flashes of lighting and the low rumble of thunder in the distance, though the rain still came down in sheets.

Though part of him longed to delay it, to keep this moment as perfect as possible, he had to ask the question that had been plaguing him. The one dark spot on the most amazing day of his entire life.

“Eleanor,” he whispered softly against her hair. “Why did you refuse my proposal? Why don’t you want to marry me?”

She tensed and moved away from him, sitting up and holding the blanket across her chest.

“I…I just can’t, Alec.” She rubbed her eyes, and then looked around the room. Their clothing strewn in all corners, the blankets and pillows, the stool on its side—when the devil had they knocked that over? That satisfied look of contentment faded, something between regret and sorrow taking its place. He frowned, a sense of unease skittering up his spine. “We shouldn’t have…Damn it. I’m sorry.”

She leapt up, rummaging around in the discarded piles around the room. Alec was momentarily distracted by the curve of her backside and the enticing view as she bent at the waist. She sighed in annoyance and ended up grabbing his shirt, sliding it over her head. It came to her knees, but the sight of her in it was unbelievably arousing for reasons he couldn’t even understand.

“Elle, stop. Stop,” he said again, rising to his feet and grabbing her upper arms. “Talk to me,” he pleaded. She turned away and he frowned in annoyance, reaching for his pants and stabbing his legs inside. He couldn’t very well have this conversation—and they were going to have it, even if he had to stay out here with her all night—naked.

“Elle,” he said again, crossing his arms over his chest. Whatever she heard in his tone made her turn back to him. They stared for a moment and then her eyes watered and her shoulders slumped, as if in defeat. She squeezed her eyes shut for a heartbeat, and when she opened them again, it looked almost as if…she were saying goodbye? He moved forward, gripping her arms again gently, needing to hold on to her before whatever was coming tried to pull her away. He wouldn’t let that happen. Nothing could take her from him. Nothing.

“I can’t marry you if I can’t be completely honest with you, Alec. And I can’t be completely honest with you.”

“Of course you can,” he said, confused.

“No, I can’t, Alec. Not about this.”

Unease settled in his stomach like a heavy ball of ice, the cold slowly spreading outward through the rest of his body.

“You can tell me anything, Elle. Anything.” What could she possibly be so afraid to tell him? She looked pained.

“We should go. We need to go.” Her gaze drifted around the room, eyes watering and he got the feeling she was avoiding his stare.

“No, we don’t,” Alec said. “Elle, look at me. Look at me, damn it!” She finally did, pressing her lips into a hard line. “Tell me what in the bloody hell is going on. I don’t understand. We spend an afternoon like this together, doing…all the things that we did, you tell me that you love me and I know it was the truth, Elle, I know it. So why? Why are you trying to push me away now? Why won’t you just tell me what’s wrong?”

“I can’t,” she said again, clenching her jaw.

“God, just tell me, Elle. Talk to me. Please,” he begged. “Please just—”

“I’m not from here, Alec!” she blurted, cutting him off.

His brows drew down in utter confusion. It wasn’t at all what he’d expected her to say.

“Yes, I know, you’re from America,” he said slowly.

“No. I mean, yes, I am,” she shook her head in frustration, “but that’s not what I meant.” She let out a long, shuddering breath, and seemed to brace herself for a blow.

“I mean, I’m not from this time.”