19. Once More
19
Once More
Rosalind rested on a worn velvet sofa, her head heavy against its tattered arm and legs tucked in close. A leatherbound book lay open beside her.
Though the tavern crowd waned as the night drew on, it was by no means empty when Rosalind decided to retire. As much as she had enjoyed the evening, she was eager to wipe off the sweat of the day and sober up next to the fire.
After washing up, Rosalind slipped into her nightgown, plaited her hair, and settled by the hearth. She had intended to read a few chapters from the book she recently borrowed from Valentina, but it wasn’t long before the gentle crackling of burning wood lulled her into a half-sleep.
A knock at the door roused her. It seemed sleep had finally called to Valentina, who Rosalind had last seen engaged in a rather impassioned-sounding conversation with one of Quinn’s friends.
“It’s about time,” she mumbled as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. When her vision cleared, she was surprised to find it wasn’t Valentina who had entered the room.
“Jonathan?”
The man in question offered her an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to bother you at such a late hour, Ros.”
“Is everything alright? Is Val alright?” she asked, slightly alarmed .
“Val’s fine,” he assured her. “But she is the reason for my being here.”
Rosalind frowned slightly, unsure of what he meant.
“She’s asleep in my room. Out cold. I tried to wake her, but she wasn’t having it. Elbowed me so hard in the ribs, damn near cracked one.”
“She must be well soused,” remarked Rosalind. “At least she stumbled into your room and not a stranger’s…”
“I suppose,” Jonathan replied slowly, “though I don’t recall her drinking much after you left. Perhaps she can’t hold her liquor as well as I thought.”
Rosalind was skeptical of this. She knew Valentina to be quite adept at drinking.
“In any case,” Jonathan continued, “I came here to ask if you wouldn’t mind joining her in the other room for the night? Seeing as she won’t budge.”
“Oh! Yes, of course. It’s no trouble at all. I’ll just collect a few things and be on my way.”
Rosalind pushed herself off the sofa and set about the room. Mortified at Jonathan seeing the mess she’d made earlier, she hastily grabbed the clothes strewn across the floor and tossed them into the hamper. Then she gathered up Valentina’s nightgown from the bed and glanced around for her comb. She would need to brush her hair in the morning and was certain Valentina would too, most desperately. Remembering she had left it atop the mantel, she made her way over to the fireplace.
Reaching out for the comb, she caught sight of her bare shoulder. It suddenly occurred to her that she wasn’t wearing her robe. She hadn’t needed it earlier, seated so close to the warm fire. Plus, she’d been alone. But she wasn’t now, was she? Propriety dictated that she cover herself in front of company, especially when said company was of the male variety .
Rosalind peered down at her nightgown and groaned inwardly. Against the firelight, she could just make out the silhouette of her body through the thin cotton fabric. Taking hold of the comb, she turned slowly around. Perhaps he hadn’t noticed. After all, propriety would have him turn his attention elsewhere to avoid witnessing her indecency.
But it seems propriety eluded them both. Rosalind waited with bated breath as his gaze made the agonizingly slow ascent of her body. When his eyes locked on hers, every thought she ever had escaped her, save for one.
“Jonathan,” she breathed. “If you wished it, I could”—her eyes flitted briefly to the bed—“I could stay a while.”
Jonathan said nothing, did nothing for what felt like an eternity. The brief flex of his jaw was the only indication he’d heard her. He simply stood there, staring back at her.
Rosalind fidgeted under his gaze, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could bear it. Had she so utterly misjudged his affection for her? Perhaps it was merely companionable fondness and she had mistaken it for more than it was.
When his gaze finally dropped from hers and drifted toward the doorway, she knew his decision was as good as made. She didn’t need him to say anything aloud; she was almost appreciative he hadn’t. Hoping to maintain what little dignity she had left, Rosalind turned her back to Jonathan and focused on the flames flickering in the hearth. Her eyes burned, but she’d wait until she heard the door shut to dab at them. Then she’d find her damned robe and retreat to the other room.
Rosalind started in surprise as an arm snaked around her waist.
“Had to make sure the door was locked,” Jonathan whispered against her ear before pressing his lips to her neck.
Without hesitation, Rosalind melted into his warm embrace. She blinked away unshed tears as he lavished her with tender kisses. Her breath quickened as the hand on her belly skimmed upward and cupped her breast over her nightgown. The fabric did little to dull the spark of pleasure that surged through her as his thumb swept across her nipple.
His hand continued its ascent, fingers tracing her jawline and guiding her face toward his. Their eyes met for the briefest of moments before his mouth was on hers. There was nothing tentative about the way he kissed her. Surprising herself, she met his voracity with a hunger of her own. Without breaking the kiss, she twisted around to face him and grabbed a handful of his shirt with one hand and the nape of his neck with the other.
Rosalind didn’t realize they had moved until she felt the edge of the sofa's back press into her. In one swift motion, Jonathan hoisted her up onto it and settled between her legs, the shift in height bringing their faces nearly level with one another.
“Ros,” he murmured between kisses, “there’s something you should know.”
“What is it?” she asked against his lips. Reluctantly, she pulled back to search his eyes. “Is it something dreadful?”
Jonathan let out a breathy laugh. “I don’t think so, but you may feel otherwise.”
Rosalind’s brows shot up in surprise.
“I’d like to explain it to you properly, but to do that, I need my wits about me.” His gaze fell to her mouth. “And right now, I don’t think I do.”
The words had hardly left his mouth before his lips were on hers again. Perhaps she should stop him and ask that he confide in her now—whatever it was seemed important. Then again, if he thought it could wait, so did she.
Her decision to leave it be was cemented as soon as she felt his hand slip beneath the fabric of her nightgown and work its way up her thigh. He stilled just before the crease of her hip, and she couldn’t help but squirm as his thumb drew circles across the sensitive skin of her inner thigh.
“Hold on tight,” he instructed as he moved to grip the backs of her thighs and proceeded to lift her off the sofa.
Reaching the bed, Jonathan laid her down gently and pulled off his shirt. He positioned himself over her and swept a strand of hair from her face before lowering his mouth to hers. Rosalind’s hands made quick work of exploring the expanse of his back. She lifted one hand to run her fingers through his hair; she would be remiss if she didn’t.
Jonathan teased her lower lip before trailing kisses across her jaw and down the crook of her neck. He continued lower and Rosalind sucked in a sharp breath at the feeling of his teeth nipping at the peak of her breast. Still reveling in the pleasure that lingered in the wake of his kisses, Rosalind didn’t think to consider his trajectory. That is, until his mouth skimmed past her belly button.
Rosalind’s eyes snapped open. “Jonathan…”
“Hmm,” he replied, not bothering to break from his sensuous descent. Meanwhile, his fingers slowly coaxed the hem of her nightgown higher and higher up her thighs.
One of her hands darted out to clasp Jonathan’s. “Really, you—you needn’t do that.”
He paused and glanced up at her. “I know,” he replied softly, “but I’d like to if you’ll let me.”
If she were honest with herself, she did want him to, very much so. She had experienced it once before when Valentina convinced her to sneak out to a nearby tavern one night, and she knew just how spectacular it could be. But that was with a near stranger, a woman she shared no history with and would likely never encounter again. The situation couldn’t be more opposite with Jonathan. Imagining him so closely acquainted with her most intimate bits flooded her mind with worst-case scenarios, most of which were born from her own insecurities.
“Ros.”
The sound of her name brought her back to Jonathan. His eyes searched hers. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” The answer came easily, and just like that, the torrent of misgivings within her came to a standstill. Without another word, Rosalind lifted her hand from his and laid back on the mattress. Her breaths came in rapid succession as she waited with anticipation.
She nearly choked on a breath at the first lap of his tongue. He wrapped his arms around her thighs to hold her in place and proceeded to stoke flames of icy-hot pleasure low in her belly with teasing, unhurried strokes. Every so often, he’d adjust the pattern or the pace of his movements as if to study her reactions. Once, Rosalind whined in protest when he drew back, only to cry out moments later when his hot mouth returned to suck at her most sensitive spot.
When she knew she was close, she scrambled for something to hold on to and wound up with fistfuls of bedsheets in hand. As her pleasure peaked, Rosalind’s body bowed, and her thighs clenched around him. Breathy whimpers escaped her lips as she rode the waves of her climax.
Once her body relaxed and she came back to her senses, Rosalind dared a glance at Jonathan who looked back at her with a self-satisfied grin. To her mortification, his mouth glistened with what she knew to be evidence of her release. Unconsciously, she touched a hand to her mouth.
Jonathan pushed himself off the bed and picked up a nearby washcloth. “Nothing to fret over,” he said assuredly as he patted his mouth dry.
When he didn’t return to the bed right away, Rosalind asked, “Is something wrong? ”
“I don’t have the ring with me,” he admitted. “Nor do I have anything else…”
Rosalind recalled the brass ring he slipped onto his little finger the evening of her birthday. Looking at his hands now, she saw only his signet ring and the thin gold band she’d first noticed on their journey into Ashwind.
“Oh, I see.”
There was no hiding the dismay in her voice. She wasn’t ready for it to end, not yet. It was selfish of her to feel this way. He’d given her so much already, and she still wanted more. To see him thoroughly undone and to be the reason for —that was what she truly yearned for. And perhaps it was her own greed now deceiving her, but she didn’t think he was ready for it to end either.
“I do believe it’s possible with a bit of finesse,” Rosalind pointed out tentatively. She knew of such cases, having read her fair share of rather explicit stories over the years. “And if you’ve taken care in the past,” she added hastily.
“It is,” said Jonathan slowly. “And I have, but I’m very aware that it’s a lot to ask of you to grant me so much of your trust over so few words.”
“I trusted you earlier,” she reminded him.
A smile tugged at his lips. “That you did.”
Rosalind maneuvered off the bed and approached him. She placed her hand over his heart and lifted her gaze to meet his. “And I trust you now.”
Jonathan threw the washcloth he’d been holding onto the bed and leaned in to capture her lips with his. Then, the pair shed their remaining clothes and fell back into the sheets.
Jonathan reached between her legs and Rosalind gasped into his mouth as he slid one finger into her, and then another. He kissed and nipped at her neck while he teased the spot that made her breath hitch. If he kept it up, it wouldn’t be long before she climaxed for a second time, leaving her utterly spent.
She could chase such bliss anytime, but this moment wouldn't last forever and she wanted nothing more than to experience it with him. Boldly, she trailed a hand down his chest and stomach to take hold of him gently but firmly. “Please,” she murmured against his ear, not caring how desperate she sounded.
Jonathan let out a ragged breath. "Anything for you," he uttered softly as he heeded her plea. He settled into position and held her gaze as he slowly pushed into her. Like their first night together, his every move was measured to give her time to adjust to the feel of him. Soon, Rosalind felt the tension in her muscles ease and her body relax. Her grip on his shoulders loosened and she lifted her head to bring her lips to his.
Gradually, Jonathan hastened his rhythm. Rosalind moved her hips in time with his and wrapped her legs around him, intensifying the dizzying friction between them. Their kisses grew more ardent and erratic as their breaths quickened. One of Jonathan’s hands skimmed across her breast and down her side. Moments later, Rosalind felt his arm hook under her knee and spread her legs wider apart. At this angle, he pressed deeper into her, eliciting shuddered breaths from the both of them.
Jonathan’s breaths quickly grew ragged. He leaned down to press a shaky kiss to her lips, then withdrew himself from her and sought out the washcloth from earlier. She watched his face as pleasure overwhelmed him and before he could catch his breath, she lifted her head up to steal another kiss.
After freshening up, Jonathan pulled Rosalind back into bed. “You’ve already been here a while and no one’s noticed. What’s a little longer?”
Rosalind woke up sometime later to the sound of steady breaths and the rise and fall of Jonathan’s chest. There she remained for several minutes more, allowing herself to savor the feeling and commit it to memory. When it came time to leave, she reluctantly extricated herself from his warm embrace and slid out of bed as noiselessly as possible. She crept over to the window to confirm it wasn’t yet dawn and set about gathering the things she needed.
Unable to resist, Rosalind looked back once more at Jonathan, who continued to sleep soundly, before slipping out of the room.