Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Follow me.”
Rachel did not have to be told twice as she followed him out to the west wing of the house. There was a nervousness to his step that was palpable. He was walking too fast for her, and she was having trouble keeping up.
But it was enough that he had even agreed to show her. So she did not complain. Instead, she picked up her step.
They reached the end of the corridor, where there were stairs that led up to the attic door.
“Do you really wish to see?” Simon asked her, stopping in front of the stairs.
“Of course, yes,” Rachel nodded furiously. “Please do not go back on your word now.”
“I am not planning to,” Simon replied. “But I am only asking you one final time.”
Rachel felt her heart beat louder in her chest. What was in there that made Simon so hesitant?
“I am certain,” she nodded. “But it is not me that needs to make up my mind. Do you wish for me to see?”
She watched him wrestle with his own emotions, and then added.
“Do you trust me enough to?”
Her words seemed to work, as he nodded and began to lead her up the stairs.
“Follow me now,” he said again as he began to unlock the door. The door opened with a click, and he pushed it open.
The moment had arrived. When Rachel followed him inside, she was immediately hit by the scent of old wood and dust. It appeared that no one had been inside here for a long time.
Simon lit up some candles so that they were able to see.
The room was larger than Rachel had imagined. It had an odd stillness to it, as though time had stopped entirely.
“You can look around,” Simon said in a low voice. He was watching her.
She felt her heart flutter. He trusted her enough to let her do this.
Immediately, she noticed that there were many paintings in the room. Some were stacked against the walls, some framed, others leaning against old trunks. All of them had the same man and woman on them.
“Are these…” Rachel felt her throat tighten at the realization. “Are these your parents?”
“You were able to tell quite easily,” Simon nodded.
His voice was composed, but Rachel could tell that he was restraining himself from showing emotion.
“Is this why you…”
“I want you to look around first,” he stopped her mid-sentence. “Now that you are here, I would like you to.”
She nodded, respecting his wishes.
The room felt as though it had been preserved in a certain moment in time. She moved toward the center of the room, her eyes scanning the heavy trunks lined up against the far wall. Their lids were closed but not locked.
“This is…” she sighed, composing herself. “Is this all their belongings?”
“Yes,” Simon nodded. “I have kept everything here.”
“And that is why you do not let anyone ever come in here?” she went on.
It was starting to make sense to her why he had been so secretive and protective about this space.
“You seem to have figured everything out,” Simon replied.
“Am I the first person you have allowed to come up here?” Rachel swallowed the lump forming in her throat.
He nodded.
“And what about yourself?” she asked. ‘Do you come here often?”
He let out a quiet exhale.
“Only when I have to remind myself that they were real.”
It was such a simple statement, but it nearly broke her heart. For the first time, she saw the grief that Simon carried with him all these years.
Slowly, she stepped closer. “Why show me?”
Rachel wondered if she had gone too far with her questioning. Would he even answer? He had already revealed something so deeply personal to him. It was possible that he would not be willing to reveal anything more.
“Because you asked,” he replied after a moment of pondering.
It was a simple answer, and one that Rachel suspected was not conveying all the truth.
She took another step toward him, her hand reaching out once more. This time, he didn’t stop her. Her fingers rested lightly on his wrist before trailing up his forearm, settling against his chest.
“You didn’t have to hide this from me,” she whispered.
“It is my sorrow to carry.” His voice came out hoarse. “Why bring another into it?”
Rachel lifted her other hand to cup his cheek, her touch gentle but firm. “No, Simon. You don’t have to do this alone.”
She didn’t give him time to push her away again. Instead, she leaned in, pressing her lips softly against his. It was the only thing that she could think to do in that moment—for she could not stand how heartbroken Simon looked. She wanted it all to go away—the pain and the grief.
But no words would suffice, so instead, she poured all she had into the kiss.
Simon didn’t move at first, as if caught off guard, but then his hands came to rest at her waist, his grip hesitant but present.
“Rachel…”
“No more talking,” she whispered against his lips. “Please.”
And then, she kissed him again.
This time, he didn’t hesitate. A low sound rumbled from his throat as he pulled her flush against his body, his hands splaying over her back, as though desperate to hold on.
Rachel gasped into his mouth as he took control, the kiss turning fierce and all-consuming. It was a kiss of surrender, of a man finally letting himself have what he wanted, even if only for a fleeting moment.
His hands roamed, fingers pressing into the curve of her waist, then sliding up to cradle the back of her neck. It made her moan in pleasure, and Simon pulled back at the sound, his breathing uneven.
“What do you want?” His eyes were dark, searching hers, his thumb brushing over her lower lip as though debating whether to cross a line he couldn’t come back from.
“I—I…” Rachel found herself unable to formulate full sentences. Rachel knew she had already made her choice. She reached for him again, pulling him back down to her. “I want you.”
Simon groaned, his restraint snapping as he lifted her in one swift motion. Rachel let out a startled breath, arms looping around his neck as he carried her effortlessly, his lips never leaving hers.
“Your chambers,” he growled in her ear, and she felt as though she was going to burst from the anticipation.
He walked them back, and Rachel could feel his heart pounding against her own as they crossed the threshold into her room. The door clicked shut behind them. And then, there was no more distance left to keep.
Rachel barely had time to catch her breath before she felt the solid press of Simon’s body against hers. He set her down at the edge of the bed, his grip firm as his fingers traced the line of her jaw, then down the length of her throat.
“I want to take my time with you,” he murmured.
“But I do not want to wait for too long,” Rachel protested, but she moved her neck so that he had better access to it.
“Patience, sweetheart,” he murmured against her skin. “You do not get to tell me what to do.”
He was taking his time with her, in no rush at all.
“Should we get you out of these clothes first?” he asked. Rachel found herself growing self-conscious.
“I…”
“I want to see,” he said, moving his hands to slowly remove her dress. He tugged the fabric from her shoulders, exposing the skin beneath.
Rachel was pleased to hear the way that he gasped when he first saw her.
“I feel shy,” she told him.
“There is no need for you to be shy around me,” he said. “I am your husband. I am allowed to see you naked.”
His words felt so crass, but she did not mind them.
“You are beautiful.” He trailed little kisses over her exposed chest.
“Simon…”
His hands dipped even lower.
“Say my name again. In that little voice of yours.”
She could not respond at first as his fingers teased down her thigh. It was enough to drive her mad.
“Please,” she murmured, “Simon, please. I need you.”
She did not know what it was that she needed exactly, just that she wanted him. He was as close to her as possible. Simon smirked against her skin.
“I like it when you whimper like this,” he told her. “Beg for me.”
It was such a direct command, but Rachel felt obliged to obey. “Please, Simon. I—”
She tried to reach for him, but he was quick to pin her wrists at the top of her head using his free hand.
“Not yet, darling.”
“But you are torturing me.”
“Then maybe you deserve it.” Simon pressed a kiss to her hands and then went back to touching her.
It was so sexy how he said it.
She held her breath. His fingers trailed along the edge of her undergarments, teasing. Rachel trembled. He was touching her, but not fully.
“How long will you tease me like this?”
“Until you’re a mess,” he groaned. “I want to see you get desperate.”
That alone was enough to send her over the edge.
“Really?” Simon asked, seeming proud of himself. “Is that all it took?”
Rachel blushed, unsure of what had just happened but feeling incredible.
“There’s more in you left,” he observed, and then he put his mouth on her.
“Oh, God—” Rachel’s head fell back against the pillows as pleasure exploded across her body and mind.
Simon was incredible. Each stroke was perfect, and he was devouring her like a starved man. When she tried to wiggle out of his hold, he only gripped her harder.
“You taste so sweet,” he groaned. “You had been keeping this from me all this time?”
Rachel did not know what she could even say, just that she never wanted him to stop.
She was lost in him, and he knew it.
“I need—” she gasped, only to be cut off as Simon suddenly withdrew his mouth from hers. “Why did you…”
Simon kissed her before she could argue, his lips demanding as he pressed her into the bed.
“Don’t be so impatient,” he told her. “We have only started. I am not yet done with you.”
God. It sent a shiver down her spine. What else was there for him to do?
“You make me ache with want and desire. I need you—”
“You need me?” he growled in her ear. He tugged at his trousers, and they were off in a second.
That was when Rachel saw him for the first time. Her mouth formed the shape of an O.
It was… She was not sure if she could even fit it in her hands.
“Do you like your husband’s manhood?” he asked her, watching her closely. “Touch it, darling. It needs you.”
With shaking hands, she did. Her suspicion had been correct. It barely fit in her tiny hands. Seeing that made Simon’s eyes darken.
“God.” He pushed her back down on the bed. “I want to see you take it. Will you let me?”
She could only let out sounds of agreement. In this moment, she would let him do anything.
“Good,” he said and then positioned himself between her legs. “I will make it up to you. You will take me so well—I know it.”
Before Rachel could even comprehend what he meant, he thrust inside of her.
“Oh my God—” The moan that ripped out of her mouth was loud.
“Look at me,” he commanded. “You look so sweet, taking all of me.”
Sweet was not the word to describe it. Rachel was sweating, mouth open, and desperate.
She wanted more of him.
Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, Rachel thought she saw something fragile in his gaze.
Could it be love?
“Good girl.”
Hearing him moan like that made her lose her train of thought entirely, and then all she could think about was how to get him to do that again.
“Faster,” she said as though it was an instinct. “I want you to…”
“Demanding little duchess,” he said, but he gave her what she wanted.
His pace quickened, his movements more urgent. The bed frame creaked beneath them, and Rachel could barely think. Her fingers tangled in his hair, dragging him down for another kiss.
“You fit me like I was made for you.”
“I was,” she replied, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “I was—”
There was a small pause then, but when Simon resumed, he went even deeper than before.
His thrusts turned rough, and one of his hands yanked at her hair. She had never known pleasure like this—that pain could feel so good.
“You like it just like this,” he observed. “You want me to devour you.”
Rachel squeezed her eyes shut as she felt pleasure building between her legs. A cry escaped her lips as she came.
“You look so good,” he groaned. “A perfect little thing.”
Pleasure tore through her, her body arching into him as she cried out his name.
“Simon, Simon, Sim—”
Simon followed moments later, his grip tightening as he lost himself in her.
For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing until Simon pulled out of her and lay by her side.
“Simon—”
He had already turned onto his back, his body tense, his gaze fixed on the ceiling.
“Stay,” she whispered, barely audible. “Please. Don’t leave me here alone tonight.”
She knew the pattern by now—the way he would pull away, distancing himself. But tonight, she wasn’t sure if she could endure it again.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. He was still fighting himself, she could see it, but finally, he exhaled sharply, as if giving in.
“I’ll stay.”