Chapter 22 #3
Morgan went still. Then he pulled back to look at her, his expression full of wonder.
He kissed her again, deep and thorough and full of promise. And as they drifted to sleep in each other’s arms, Eliza felt something she hadn’t felt in so long she’d almost forgotten what it was.
Hope.
Not just for survival, but for happiness. For a future built on truth and trust and love. For a life that was, finally, truly hers.
“I want to show you something,” Morgan said one evening after dinner.
They were in his chambers, or their chambers now. Eliza had taken to sleeping in his bed every night, the connecting door between their rooms standing perpetually open. Eliza looked up from the book she’d been reading, curled up in the chair by the fireplace.
“Show me what?”
Morgan’s expression was somewhere between nervous and mischievous. “Do you remember what you told me? About finding my… collection?”
Heat flooded Eliza’s face. “Oh. That.”
“Yes. That.” He stood, offering her his hand. “I promised you’d see it again under different circumstances. And I think, if you’re interested, tonight might be the right time. What do you say, wife?”
Eliza’s heart began to race. She set her book aside and took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet.
“I’m interested.”
“You’re sure? We don’t have to…”
“Morgan.” She pressed a finger to his lips. “I’m sure. I want to… explore. With you.”
His eyes darkened with desire. “Then come with me.”
He led her to the wardrobe, the same one she’d accidentally discovered weeks ago.
With a slight pressure on the hidden panel, it swung open, revealing the closet beyond.
Eliza stepped inside, her eyes adjusting to the dim light.
The space was larger than she remembered, lined with shelves holding an assortment of items that made her blush even as curiosity sparked like wildfire within her.
Silk scarves in jewel tones. Soft leather restraints with velvet lining. Bottles of oil that caught the candlelight. And other things, things she didn’t have names for but could imagine uses for.
“I know it might seem… intense,” Morgan said, watching her carefully. “But I want you to know that everything here is about pleasure. About trust. Nothing is meant to cause pain, only enhanced sensation. And we only use what you’re comfortable with.”
“All right,” Eliza said as she turned to face him. “What did you have in mind?”
Morgan reached past her, selecting one of the silk scarves. It was a deep emerald green that rivaled his eyes, soft as a whisper. “This. Just this. If you’ll let me.”
“What would you do with it?” she asked as her eyes grew wide.
“Blindfold you.” His voice had dropped to that low, rough tone that made her stomach flip. “I want to heighten your other senses. Make every touch, every kiss, more intense. But only if you trust me.”
Eliza’s breath came faster. The idea both terrified and thrilled her. “I trust you.”
Morgan’s smile was slow, sensual. “Then come back to bed, darling. Let me show you what pleasure can be when you can’t see it coming.”
He undressed her slowly, reverently, as he always did. Each piece of clothing removed with care, with appreciation. When she was bare before him, he guided her to sit on the edge of the bed.
“Lie back,” he murmured. “Get comfortable.”
She did, her heart pounding with anticipation.
Morgan stood before her, still fully clothed, holding the green silk scarf. “Last chance to change your mind.”
“I don’t want to change my mind. I want this. I want you.”
“Good girl.” He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her lips. “If anything becomes too much, if you want to stop for any reason, just say red. Can you remember that?”
“Red.”
“Perfect.” He straightened, and gently, so gently, he placed the scarf over her eyes, tying it loosely at the back of her head. “Can you see anything?”
“No. Just darkness.”
“Good. Now just feel, darling. Just feel.”
The loss of sight made every other sense sharper.
She heard the rustle of fabric as Morgan removed his shirt.
Felt the dip of the mattress as he joined her on the bed.
Then his hands were on her, and she gasped at the touch of skin on skin.
Delicate as a feather. Without sight, every touch was magnified.
His fingers trailing down her arm raised goosebumps across her entire body.
His lips pressing against the hollow of her throat made her arch off the bed.
“That’s it,” Morgan murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “Just feel. Don’t think. Just feel. Forget yourself.”
He mapped her body with his hands and mouth, taking his time. When his mouth closed over her breast, Eliza cried out, her hands flying to his hair.
“So responsive,” he praised. “I love how your body responds to me.”
He continued his exploration, moving lower. His hands parted her thighs gently, and then his mouth was on her center, and Eliza couldn’t hold back the moan that tore from her throat as he sucked on her nub.
“Morgan! Oh God!”
“Let me hear you,” he encouraged between strokes of his tongue. “Don’t hold back. I want to hear every sound, feel every shudder. I want to lap up every drop of you.”
He worked her with his mouth and fingers until she was writhing beneath him, desperate for release. But every time she got close, he’d slow down, drawing out the pleasure until she was begging.
“Please,” she gasped. “Please, Morgan, I need… Ah!”
“What do you need, darling? Tell me.”
“You. I need you. I need you inside me.”
She heard him groan, felt him shift positions. Then he was there, at her entrance, and he pushed inside in one smooth stroke that made them both gasp.
“Look at you,” Morgan murmured, though she couldn’t see him looking. “So beautiful like this. So open to me. So trusting.”
He began to move, his strokes slow and deep, just as she liked. He was hitting places inside her that made stars burst behind her closed eyes, as if he was made for her. Eliza wrapped her legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts, chasing the pleasure that was building impossibly higher.
“Touch yourself,” Morgan commanded, his voice rough. “I want to feel you come apart around me.”
Eliza’s hand moved between their bodies, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves he had just savored.
The added sensation combined with Morgan’s thrusts was too much, too intense.
She shattered then, her body clenching around him.
Morgan followed moments later with a groan, his release pulsing inside her, hot and hard.
They collapsed together, breathing ragged.
Morgan carefully removed the blindfold, and Eliza blinked up at him, her vision adjusting to the candlelight.
“That was… Well, that was…” she struggled for words. “I didn’t know it could be like that. Every time you show me more and more.”
“We’re just getting started, darling.” Morgan kissed her softly. “There’s so much more I want to show you. But slowly. We have all the time in the world.”
He gathered her close, and they lay tangled together, sated and content.
“Thank you,” Eliza whispered. “For being patient with me. For making me feel safe enough to explore.”
“Always,” Morgan promised. “I’ll always make sure you feel safe. That’s my promise to you.”
The nightmare woke Eliza sometime past midnight. She sat up with a gasp, her heart racing, the images still vivid behind her closed eyelids.
Abigail falling. Whitfield’s cold smile. My parents’ indifferent faces.
“Eliza?” Morgan’s voice was thick with sleep. He sat up beside her, his hand finding hers in the darkness. “What’s wrong, darling?”
“Just a dream. I’m so sorry I woke you.”
“Don’t apologize.” He pulled her close, and she went willingly, pressing her face against his chest. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“It was about Abigail.”
“Oh dear.”
“About the night she died.”
Morgan was quiet for a moment, just holding her.
“Tell me more of what happened. That night. Tell me every detail you can recall. Let me help you.”
“She told me he’d threatened her,” Eliza said, her voice breaking. “Said that if she didn’t give him an heir soon, he’d make her regret it. And then… then she said she needed to go find him, to try to calm him down before his mood got worse. That was the last time I saw her alive.”
“God, Eliza.”
“I should have stopped her. I should have done something!”
“No.” Morgan’s voice was firm. “This wasn’t your fault. None of this was your fault.”
They lay in silence for a while, Morgan’s hand stroking her hair.
“Can I tell you something?” Morgan said finally. “Something I’ve never told anyone.”
Eliza pulled back to look at him. “Of course.”
Morgan took a breath. “You mentioned Cecilia. That night when I was drunk.”
“You don’t have to…”
“I want to.” His jaw tightened. “I was in love with her. Or I thought I was, at least. We courted for nearly two years. I was planning to propose, had the ring commissioned, had even spoken to her father…”
“Morgan, I’m so sorry. That must have been so painful.”
“I was devastated. Humiliated. Everyone knew I’d been planning to propose, at a party no less. The gossip was brutal.” He laughed bitterly. “For months afterward, I couldn’t figure out what I’d done wrong. Why I hadn’t been enough.”
“You are enough,” Eliza said fiercely. “More than enough.”
“I know that now. Or at least, I’m starting to believe it.” He cupped her face in his hands. “Do you know why she left me? I found out later, through Ambrose. She said I was too cautious. Too careful. That she wanted passion and grand gestures and romance, and all I offered was… steadiness.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Maybe. But it made me doubt myself for years. Made me think that perhaps I wasn’t capable of the kind of love people write poems about. That I was too practical, too controlled.”
“And now?” Eliza asked softly.
“Now I know she was wrong.” Morgan’s eyes were intense on hers. “Because what I feel for you. It’s not careful or controlled. It’s wild and terrifying and all-consuming. You’ve undone me, Eliza. Completely.”
Tears spilled down Eliza’s cheeks. “You’ve undone me too.”
“Good.” He kissed her, deep and thorough. “I want us to undo each other. To be vulnerable and messy and real.”
They made love then, slow and tender, a reaffirmation of everything they’d confessed.
And afterward, as they lay wrapped in each other’s arms, Eliza felt something shift inside her chest. For so long, she’d been running.
From her parents. From Whitfield. From her own fear and pain.
But here, with Morgan, she didn’t need to run anymore. She was home.
“Morgan?” she said sleepily, just as she was starting to drift asleep.
“Mmm?”
“Thank you. For trusting me with your story. With your heart.”
“Thank you for trusting me with yours.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Now sleep, darling. We have all the time in the world to share our secrets.”