Chapter 13
Lily had forgotten what it was like to kiss her husband.
More accurately, she’d never allowed herself to revisit the memory of his lips. How he sipped from her mouth like he was tasting the sweetest nectar, how he explored with his tongue and left her breathless and wanting.
But now he followed her lead and welcomed the sweet caress of her lips against his for a moment before pulling back to meet her gaze, the question clear in the arch of his brow.
She knew what the kiss meant to him, to them. But there had never been a question, not for her. She had no choice but to love him forever. She’d tried to hate him, yet despite wanting to cast out her love for him like a priest would a demonic spirit, she never succeeded.
And she no longer wanted to.
But fear clung to the edges of that love, and her eyes fell shut with her shuddering exhale.
He cupped her chin, lifting her gaze to match his. “You’re afraid.”
“I’m not afraid,” she lied.
“You’ve never backed down from me, but you are now.” He brushed his lips over her cheek, her temple. “What’s frightening you?”
She didn’t answer, instead catching his mouth with hers, nipping at his lower lip before she slanted her lips across his and turned the kiss greedy.
Philip growled low in his throat. “Don’t try to distract me. I need you to talk to me,” he grumbled against her mouth. “Tell me what you want.”
I want you to stay forever. He could promise this, but the only evidence she possessed was his leaving her, forgetting her for eight years.
And as much as he’d changed since the night he left, her stubborn pride wouldn’t allow her to give in the final degree.
She could enjoy his body, let him enjoy hers, but keep herself safe.
He could only hurt the parts of her she allowed him to see.
Lily slid off the counter, her breasts pressing against his chest as she unbuttoned his trousers and slid her hand down the solid length within. Her lips curled into a satisfied smile when he grunted, his cock throbbing in her hand. “I want to make you come. I want you to make me come.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed, but he shook his head even as his hips rocked against her palm. “That’s not what this is, and you know it. I’m not going to make you come and walk away.”
Her chest lurched as though her heart were tossing itself towards him. Or perhaps the foolish organ was making a desperate flight for safety.
She wrapped her free hand around the braces holding up his open trousers and pulled him against her, his turgid cock trapped between their bodies.
The ache between her thighs intensified as he kissed her.
How quickly she could lose herself in this, in him, in the fire burning so brightly between them.
The door to the china room swung open without warning, and Philip pulled her tight against his chest as Timothy burst in.
“Did you find the bandages yet? James burned—” He cut off with a gulp, and she peered around Philip’s side to see him in the doorway staring, wide-eyed. “Shite, my apologies. You’ve been gone long enough, so I should have guessed—”
“Please go, Timothy,” Philip barked. Lily almost chuckled at the pained restraint in Philip’s tone, and at the fear that flashed over Timothy’s features.
“Of course, yes.” He hesitated. “But James…”
She twisted sufficiently to reach the salve on the counter beside her, capping and tossing it into his hands.
Timothy caught the tin and saluted the pair with a wink. “Shall I assume you’re not returning for a second round of snapdragon?”
“Good assumption,” Philip growled. “Now go.”
Timothy’s laughter echoed behind him as the door snapped shut.
But Philip had it open a moment later, pulling her along as he headed towards the servant stairs. She jogged alongside him, her knees weak beneath her skirts from unrealized desire and a bubbling sensation she recognized as joy. “Where are we going?”
“To our room.”
To our bed remained unspoken, but it danced in the air between them and sent molten lust surging through her bones as they rushed down the narrow hallways to the back of the house.
He surged up the stairs, only slowing at the landing when she cried out, her legs tangled in her skirts.
“Fuck,” he hissed, grasping her waist and spinning her so her back pressed against the wall.
“I can’t wait with you.” He pulled at the fabric around her ankles, lifting and gathering it in his hand.
He was kissing her again, with hungry nips and pulls at her lips, and she gave as well as she received, driving her fingers into his hair and holding him close.
Scratching his scalp as he rasped his teeth along the tendon between her neck and shoulder.
She felt his choked inhale when he had lifted her skirts high, his hands finding the exposed skin above her stockings. “Christ, wife.” His breath escaped on a moan against her collarbone where he’d pulled the neck of her shirtwaist open. “Where are your drawers?”
“In our room.” Her voice caught on the our.
He must have heard it, because he curled his hands behind her thighs to pull her flush against him and slanted his mouth over hers again. “I won’t make it to our room.”
His arousal pulsed between them, and she shifted, seeking some of the friction she needed, would surely perish without it.
“Neither will I.” She scrambled to open the tented fabric of his trousers and released the buttons of his union suit.
His cock fell free of his undergarments, heavy and long in her hand, and she hesitated.
“The last time I touched you like this, you were gone by morning.”
He curled his hand around the nape of her neck, pulled her close as he kissed her soundly. “You know that’s not why I left.”
“I know, but I…” Logic supported his assertion, but her battered heart couldn’t forget years of thinking she’d been inadequate, her lack of experience driving him away.
He released her nape and took her hand, then wrapped it around the heated steel of his cock.
“Do you need further proof of how much I desire you?” He guided her palm down, stroking him firmly once, twice.
His voice was broken, strained when he spoke again.
“Your touch is enough to bring me to my knees.”
He thrust into the circle of her fingers and choked, his head falling back as the tendons in his throat worked. When he brought his eyes back to hers, his pupils had blown wide and devoured the midnight irises. “Spit on your hand, love. Get it wet.”
A wicked thrill rushed through her veins, electrifying her as she obeyed, slicking her palm before wrapping it around his length again. He bucked his hips and moaned, his forehead falling against hers. “So good, Lily. So good…”
He enjoyed her attention for only a moment before sliding a hand between them, gripping her mound with enough pressure to make her desperate, wild. She gasped and ground against the heel of his hand as his fingers teased the swollen outer lips. “Keep going,” she hissed. “Please, Philip, please—”
“Don’t beg, Lily,” he interrupted, his thick middle finger finding her core and pushing inside, just enough to drive her mad with wanting. “Demand what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”
“I want your cock.” The crude words tumbled from her lips, and his fingertips pressed into the soft flesh of her backside as he pulled one of her knees up, opening her wide. She dug her heel into his lower back. “I want to come with you.”
She gripped his erection, arching her hips forward until the flared tip rubbed against her mound. He hissed at the slick contact, his jaw flexing as his eyelids fluttered.
“I’ll give it to you,” he ground out, his eyes fixed on where he rutted slowly through her folds, the sensitive skin parting as he coated himself in her arousal. “But I won’t fuck you, not yet.”
Each time the flared head rubbed against her throbbing clitoris, pleasure sparked down her spine, and she dug her fingers into his biceps to hold herself steady. “Why not? Aren’t you my husband?”
She’d hoped the moniker would push him into giving her the release she chased, the one just outside her reach, but he shook his head.
“Not until I know you’ve forgiven me. Not until you believe I won’t leave you. That I never truly left you.”
Her mind caught the last phrase, illuminating the words in stark contrast to the erotic haze surrounding her.
But before she could question it, examine it as she needed, he began thrusting more earnestly.
Her climax reached from deep in her belly, coiling around the space where they were nearly joined, but not quite.
His hands held her hips in place, and she surrendered to the pleasure he was giving her, drowning in it, far past the point where she could save herself.
“You’re going to come on my cock, aren’t you?” He punctuated the question with a gentle bite to her earlobe, and her internal muscles clenched on nothing.
She moaned and nodded, unable to form words while facing down the wave of pleasure.
Her climax crested then crashed over her, pushing the air from her lungs in a soundless cry as she ground against his rigid length, his thrusts sending aftershocks of bliss dancing over her skin.
With a pained groan, he arched his hips away from her and stroked his shaft, squeezing as his release erupted.
His seed splattered against her mound, the slicked flesh of her upper thighs.
When the tension finally left his body, her husband curled forward and gathered her into his arms, burying his face in her neck, his lips pressed against her hammering pulse.
“I love you,” he whispered, the words causing fresh tears to burn behind her eyes.
But she wasn’t ready to return the sentiment, not when so much remained unclear, hurt chasing the pleasure away. “Why—why wouldn’t you come inside me?”
He leaned back and cupped her cheek. “You haven’t forgiven me yet. And I won’t start a family with you until you’re certain I’m never leaving.”
The statement struck like a blow to her abdomen, but she couldn’t deny the truth in it. “I’m afraid.” She hated the words, the weakness they implied. But when he looked at her, there was none of the dreaded pity, only regret.
His eyes flared, and he spoke with the conviction of a warrior charging into battle. “You’re mine, Lily Marshall, my countess, my queen. I only wish you believed I was yours, because I’ve known it from the moment we met.”
“You can’t prove you’ll stay.”
“I can’t.” His thumb stroked over her cheekbone, a gesture he’d made so many times when they’d been courting. “But I’m asking you to have faith in me.”
She wanted to run away and hide; she wanted to remain in his arms, half-naked and covered in his release in a cold staircase. She wanted to be the woman she was eight years ago, madly in love with her husband and unafraid of anything the world could throw her way, because he would be by her side.
“That’s what faith is, isn’t it?” she said.
His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
Something light bubbled up in her chest, as though the tether holding her fears in place finally snapped. “Faith isn’t going to church or reading scripture. It’s believing in something you can’t prove.” She cupped his cheeks and felt the dimple in his cheek. “I believe in you. I have faith in you.”
His breath escaped in a rush, and he kissed her reverently, desperately, like a man who’d been granted his greatest wish. “I believe in us, Lily. I have faith in us.”