Chapter Thirty-Two #2
An hour later, led by one of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s female attendants garbed in a far better fitting male suit than the one his wife had donned, Teddy proceeded through a maze of winding corridors to an exit opening to the alley.
Outside, dull gray skies and a blustery breeze carrying a fine mist greeted him.
A quick scan revealed his waiting carriage, which, with any luck, still held his wife.
He had asked her to wait for him. But then, he’d also asked her never to visit the gambling den again.
Striding forward, he waved a hand to the groom sitting atop the box to indicate he need not place the step. “Number 37 Rally Street,” he ordered for the second time today, then opened the carriage door and peered inside. Relief flooded him at the sight of his wife. His wife.
“Teddy, at last,” she exclaimed practically vibrating atop her perch on the center of the bench.
He studied her a long moment. For some reason, she had yet to remove the beaver hat he’d dragged her out of the den wearing. That would never do.
He vaulted inside, pulling the door closed behind him, and dropped onto the bench beside Georgina, drinking in the sight of her in the golden glow of the low burning carriage lamps.
“What took you so long? I thought you’d never return,” she complained as the carriage lurched into motion.
For some perverse reason, her distress over his absence pleased him immensely.
“I beg your pardon, sir. Say, you wouldn’t happen to have seen my wife, would you?” Not waiting for her reply, he grasped the brim of the hat and flicked it to the bench.
Her lustrous mane of dark curls spilled free, and the subtle fragrance of rose petals scented the air. “Ah. There she is. Good afternoon, madam wife.” He would never tire of calling her thusly, he decided.
She licked her enticing lips, sending a coil of heat through him. Good Lord, the woman’s effect on him increased by leaps and bounds, daily. He supposed there were worse fates.
“Are you going to tell me what you discussed with Mrs. Dove-Lyon? In truth, Teddy, I don’t understand what you hoped to accomplish. She has not allowed my father into her establishment for months, and already confirmed she cannot help retrieve his vowels—”
He held up a hand, palm out. With his other hand, he loosened the cravat he wore. “That is nothing for you to concern yourself with, darling. But there is something I wish to discuss.”
Wariness filled her eyes. “Such as?”
Now, with the moment of truth upon him, fear hollowed out his insides.
Show no weakness.
Show no chink.
He’s a weak fool who lays bare his heart—and no son of mine.
He drew a shuddering breath, and to the best of his ability, banished the incessant, enslaving words, then heard himself admit, “I’ve faced armed men without blinking, but nothing has terrified me more than this moment.”
Her silvery eyes widened. “It’s all right, my love. You don’t have to—”
“I do. Just…give me a moment.” He raked a hand through his hair, closed his eyes, then the words spilled from his mouth.
“You make me feel—you’ve always made me feel—like I can do anything to which I set my mind.
You make me believe I’m brave, smart, strong, capable.
” He swallowed and opened his eyes to meet her wondrous gaze.
“Little wonder I need you more than my next breath. Little wonder I crave you as I’ve never craved another living soul. ”
A whimper sounded in her throat, but she held herself perfectly still as if she sensed any move on her part might cause him to lose his nerve. She was probably right.
“What I’m trying to say is, I love you. I love you beyond words. Beyond all reason. I think—no, I know—a part of me always has. What’s more, I believe, having spent quite a lot of time mulling over this point, that Drake knew it, as well. You were always meant to be mine.”
As he spoke, tears welled in her eyes, and now spilled down her cheeks.
He laughed when he realized he was seeing them through a hazy blur of his own.
“Is that…are you finished?”
“Yes, except, I really need to kiss you right now.”
Nodding, she leaned close, as he took her face in his hands and kissed with near reverence. It felt good to bear his soul, to admit how essential she was to him. She had given him this gift, she and the love she inspired in him.
He drew back to gaze on her. “You know, now might be a good time for you to admit to your false claim.” He rubbed the tip of his nose over hers, then released her and leaned back on the cushions.
She sniffled. “But I’ve already done that.”
He shook his head, stretching out an arm over the back of the cushions. “I beg to disagree.”
When she opened her mouth to argue, he went on. “You admitted you’d lied about us marrying. You admitted you’d done so to rescue me from hospital.”
When she continued to look bemused, he arched a supercilious brow, not the least bit perturbed with her, but enjoying teasing her nonetheless. “Shall I spell it out?”
She nodded with vigor.
“You love me,” he said, his voice thickening. “You’ve always loved me. You’re mine, and mine alone, now and forever. Oomph—”
His words cut off when she flung herself into his chest and locked her arms around his neck.
“I do love you so, Teddy,” she vowed, her face pressed to the crook of his shoulder.
“So much it hurts. I’ve loved you from the first, that day you brought me my first beautiful, long-stemmed rose.
You aimed your slow smile at me and I was utterly lost. Drake used to tease me, mercilessly. ”
The sheer pleasure of holding her, of breathing in her delicate scent and hearing her profess her love for him, words he’d never tire of hearing, built in him, intensifying until he realized he needed more. Much more.
Grasping her shoulders, he peeled her resisting form off of him, smiling at her cry of dismay. Shushing her, he reached between them, unbuttoning her waistcoat.
She looked down, watching his fingers make fast work of the buttons to reveal the fluffy pillow she’d stuffed inside.
“Ah-ha.” He tossed the pillow aside, then helped her from the black superfine waistcoat.
“Mm,” he murmured. “Someone must have been in a hurry.” She had worn nothing under the shirt and the generous swell of her breasts with their just visible cresting nipples, had his mouth going dry and his cock going hard.
“I…er…yes,” she admitted, flushing, and would have wrapped her arms around herself if not for his hands, brushing hers aside.
“Perfect.” He tugged the shirttails from the, thankfully, loose-fitting borrowed pantaloons she wore.
When he had the garment free, he slid his hands beneath the folds to roam her back, her waist, the upper curve of her hips.
“You are so soft. Like satin. The feel of you. You take my breath away,” he said in a husky rush.
“Oh, Teddy,” she breathed, gazing at him with luminous, love-filled eyes.
Hunger for her clawed through him. “Kiss me, straddle me,” he ordered in a gruff voice.
Unwilling, or perhaps, unable to wait for her compliance, he cupped her crown, drew her face to his, feasting on her lush mouth as he wrapped his free arm around her waist and dragged her close, guiding her legs to bracket his hips.
She clung to him, arms wrapping around his neck, fingers weaving into his hair.
“Yes, darling, touch me,” he pleaded against her lips.
A whimper of need sounded in her throat and it was like pouring kerosene on the already blazing fire of need consuming him from the inside out. She intoxicated him. Thrilled his senses. He would never get enough of her.
His harsh breaths filled the cab as he shifted on the bench, wedging his hand between them to fumble with the fall of his pantaloons and shove at his briefs. Next, he tore at the buttons of her overlarge pantaloons, folding back the fabric guarding her secrets.
Then, hand shaking, he eased his fingers into her damp heat—and nearly came. She was hot and slick, and at the first brush of his fingertip, her hips arched in heady invitation.
He slipped one finger into her tight, scalding channel, circling her delicate clitoris with his thumb as his entire body shivered with violent arousal.
Above him, she quivered and gasped. She tugged at his hair and scored his scalp and drove him to the edge of his control—then past it.
“I…can’t…wait,” he choked, guiding himself to her apex, and drove himself into her.
Blood of the saints. Pleasure so intense it bordered on pain flooded his senses.
Again, and again, he took her, each gasping breath hissing through his teeth when she tilted her hips to take him deeper, and deeper still.
Nothing had ever felt so good, so right, as Georgina, her tight channel, squeezing him, her lips feathering the sweetest kisses over his cheeks, his jaw, his mouth.
“I want you, more than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything in my life. My body craves yours, like a drug, like air. Tell me you’re mine, sweetheart. Tell me.”
“I’m yours,” she choked, “always.” Then, she threw back her head, and her release broke.
“Yes, sweetheart,” he all but sobbed, thrusting into her, harder, deeper, as she clutched at him, her body shuddering with the force of her climax.
Though it cost him, he eked every last bit of pleasure from her. When her body went limp, with the tiny muscles in her channel yet pulsing, he growled, “Look at me.”
She gazed at him through heavy-lidded, passion-dazed, liquid-silver eyes, cradled his face in her hands, and like the siren she was, called forth his climax. It crashed through him like a tidal wave of epic proportions.
Afterward, more replete than he’d ever known, he slumped on the bench, Georgina cradled in his arms, his staff still buried inside her.
“Teddy?” she prodded softly.
“Yes?” he murmured, eyes closed. He couldn’t muster the strength to open them.
“The carriage. It’s stopped before my parents’ townhouse. If we do not emerge soon, someone is bound to come investigate.”