Chapter 22 #2
While trying to peer into Eric’s soul, she realized that his eye was healing, and by God, his irises were a beautiful warm shade—just like Mister Brown Eyes. What a fool she’d been about so many things.
“My mother was a prostitute, and as I am sure you can guess, Chesterhill was one of her lovers.”
Every one of her instincts told her he was being sincere. “Was?” she asked, fearing his answer.
“She was murdered when I was a child.”
That was precisely what Juliet was afraid he would say. She’d been whining nonstop about her mother while in his presence—utterly insensitive since Eric no longer had a mother. Shame was fast becoming her middle name.
“Auntie, she is the madam of the house, not my blood aunt, continued to raise and protect me after my mother died. All the ladies here are like family to me, as is the staff who takes care of us. Ladies come and go over the years, but every one of them has had a place in my heart. They are not evil or immoral, Juliet. They are trying to survive in a cruel world. I need you to know that I have never bedded any of them.”
Juliet wholeheartedly, without a doubt, believed him. “I made such horrible assumptions when I discovered you here.” She swallowed her tears. “I’m so very sorry about your mother.”
“As am I. I became so obsessed with finding the devil who took her from me that I donned a disguise and went in search of him.” Eric’s eyes clouded over as if he were staring into the past. “My only clue is that he was missing fingers. I remember his hands and voice as if it all happened yesterday.”
Picturing Eric as a heartbroken child was more than Juliet could bear. The tears she held at bay trickled. She reached behind herself to grab her coat, using the sleeve to pat her eyes dry.
“I knew my truth would steal your joy,” he softly said.
She tried to blink away her tears, but they continued to drip. “Please, tell me, Eric. I need to know everything about you.”
Nodding, he continued. “Unfortunately, I encountered every type of criminal roaming the streets, but not the monster who consumes my nightmares.” He shrugged. “Mayhap, he died years ago. That’s what my friend Flynn thinks. In which case, I’ve allowed vengeance to destroy me for no reason.”
“No.” Juliet frantically nodded. “Knight Roamer came from your anger and heartbreak over injustice, and he protects people who can’t protect themselves. He is a hero, and he is part of you.”
“I’ve never thought of it like that.” His lips curved briefly, as if he might break into a smile.
Hopefully, her sincere compliment eased some of his pain.
“I had no idea that I’d end up a folk hero to the working class, and a villain to the aristocracy. I just wanted justice for my mother.”
“There is nothing villainous about you.” She held his gaze, willing him to believe her. “Powerful men are afraid of you because you hold them accountable. Standing up to them when they intimidate so many others into submission is what makes you the people’s hero.”
Sighing, he rested his head on her lap. “I swear, I never meant to lie to you. My world has been gloomy for so long, and then you came along with your golden smile. I simply didn’t want to inflict my darkness on you. Can you ever forgive me?”
“Oh, Eric, of course.” She combed her fingers through his soft, dark waves. “Can you ever forgive me for not believing in you?”
Tilting his head, he looked up from her lap. “I could never be angry with you.”
After the drama, they could use some levity. Luckily, Juliet knew just the thing to lighten the mood.
“Would you like to know my truth?” she asked with a taunting smile.
He blinked and his brow furrowed.
“’Tis nothing too serious.” However, it was most indecent.
“Go on,” he said.
Panicking, her mouth went dry. What had made her think she could divulge her desires?
Be fearless like Eric, her inner voice demanded.
Undoubtedly, her hero deserved an intrepid woman who could speak her mind. She must do her best to match his courage.
“I want to make love to you, Eric Stone. I want you so much that my body has ached every minute of every day since Knight Roamer picked me up off those cold cobblestones.” She ran her finger over the shell of his ear until gooseflesh broke out on his neck, and he shivered.
“The book. The bathtub. Downstairs, when I walked into the brothel. Since meeting you, all of it arouses me,” she said.
He bolted upright, regarding her with wide eyes.
“Even now, while you were innocently resting your head on my lap, my body ached for you.” She lowered her voice, confessing what she hoped would spur him into action. “Still aches for you.”
“Bloody hell,” he said in a guttural rasp that rumbled deep in her belly.
Rising onto his knees, he used his thumbs to dry the last of her tears. She rubbed her cheek against his hand like a kitten begging for scratches.
Smiling, he leaned toward her, then trailed tiny kisses across her mouth. On her sigh, he nudged his tongue between her parted lips. She shifted on the cushion, edging closer to him, but failing to assuage the ache consuming her.
Without breaking from their kisses, he hoisted her onto her feet.
While their tongues danced and tangled, he rubbed her back, kneading muscles tired from her long day.
Cool air blew across her upper back, signifying that he’d unfastened the hook and eye closure.
She didn’t mind in the least. In fact, she moved her shoulders about, assisting him as he slid the fabric down her body. The dress dropped to the ground.
As she stepped over her discarded clothing, his gaze seared her bared flesh. Growling, he lunged, clasping her in his arms and kissing a path to her ear, where he gently nibbled, then nuzzled.
“I haven’t forgotten that we have plans for tonight,” he said, his breathy words tickling her cheek.
Neither had she. But after the disorienting day, would he recall his decadent promise to lick her pearl, drink her desire, and feast on her quim?
“And I’m famished.” He growled again.
Assuming that he wasn’t referencing food, her cunny dampened so thoroughly that she feared her feminine juices dripped between her inner thighs. If so, hopefully, he would lick them clean.
Unfortunately, that thought only added to her messy problem.
“Sit,” he demanded.
Without hesitation, she dropped her bare bum onto the chair.
Her body heating, she watched as he sat on the edge of the bed and removed his boots.
He wiggled his long toes in the carpeting as she gawked as if she’d never seen anything quite so fascinating.
Although perhaps, in her sheltered life, she hadn’t.
Standing, he shucked his layers until his powerful physique stood before her in just his shirt and trousers. He held her gaze as he slowly undid each button. Sliding out of the linen, he swirled it over his head, then tossed it aside.
A ray of moonlight caught in the dips and swells of his pectorals, which she was certain he was purposely flexing.
Goodness. He was also contracting his biceps.
Her gaze landed on his fascinating sculpted forearms, and she swallowed hard.
If he was putting on a show for her, it deserved an enthusiastic ovation.
In lieu of clapping, she smiled and fluttered her lashes.
Her shy, sweet Eric seemed to have been replaced by the more confident Knight Roamer, because he stalked toward her, a predatory gleam in his eyes.
He dropped to his knees again, and they stared into each other’s eyes. The air between them seemed to crackle with invisible lightning bolts.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
“Yes.” Although she was both terrified and thrilled about what she hoped came next, she trusted him with her life.
Placing a hand on each of her thighs, he spread them wide. “Relax, Sunshine,” he commanded.
She was trying to, but how did one relax when a man was licking his lips as he stared at her cunny?
Fitting his broad shoulders between her thighs, he leaned close and inhaled her secret scent. “Mmm,” he moaned.
There went her attempt at relaxation. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, she tried to close her thighs.
“No,” he said, pressing her legs in place. Staring into her eyes as if he were trying to calm a tetchy snake, he combed his fingers through her intimate curls. The sensation was akin to having an itch scratched. His seduction worked, and every one of her muscles turned to mush.
He slid a fingertip along her seam before parting her folds. The air cooled her delicate insides.
“So wet,” he said as he gently slid his finger inside her.
She was probably leaving a puddle on his chair, but she wasn’t sure she cared since it felt like he was drawing artistic pictures on her quivering walls. Attempting to ground herself, she rested her feet on his upper back.
“Exquisite,” he said as his breath blew across her cunny. His finger found her pearl and stroked, setting her afloat in a whirling tempest of tingles.
“Oh,” she whimpered. Her hips bucked.
His chuckle sent a vibrating wave to her core.
Aching for more, she undulated, trying to force him to fill the emptiness deep inside her.
Seeming to understand her needs, his hair tickled her thighs, and then his warm, velvety tongue entered her.
Throwing her forearm over her forehead, she collapsed against the back of the chair and closed her eyes.
He continued to devour her, licking, suckling, and nibbling as if she were a delicious delicacy. His nose occasionally grazed her clitoris, and shivers of delight traveled up and down her spine.
With each long, leisurely lick, his tongue came closer to her throbbing pearl.
She threaded her fingers through his hair and held his face to her cunny, trying to force his tongue to travel where she needed it most. Once again, he grasped her needs.
While his tongue made love to her precious jewel, the tornado within her continued to brew.
“Oh, yes.” She dug her heels into his back.
He parted her folds, planting a kiss where the eye of the cyclone whirled. She slid her hips forward, rocking her cunny against his mouth and digging her fingernails into his scalp. If she didn’t control her wantonness, she would suffocate the poor man.
First, one finger joined his tongue. Then another. She was full, and it was glorious.
Her pelvic muscles contracted, then tightened. Her inner whirlwind wound into a ball so tight that she gasped from equal parts pleasure and pain. And then the ball exploded into golden particles that careened outward.
“Eric,” she cried, as rhapsodic bliss washed over her.
The shiny sparks hovered before changing direction to join her corporal body.
By the time she steadied her erratic breathing, Eric stood over her, brushing wayward strands of hair from her eyes.
“I love you, Juliet Coldpepper, my radiant sun,” he whispered.
“And I love you, Eric Stone, my gallant hero,” she whispered back.