Chapter 7 #2
“Maddie, please,” John said, his voice hoarse, holding up his hands in a show of surrender. “What you heard—”
“What I heard,” she cut in, her voice trembling with rage, “was you boasting about your conquests like some . . . some rutting stag. Is that what really matters to you? How you’ve bedded your way across the Continent?
How you boast of your conquests like trophies to be displayed while telling me you were trying to overcome the pain?
Or perhaps you believe women are nothing more than vessels for your pleasure? ”
He ran his hands down his face, quickly sobering. “It wasn’t—I didn’t—” He exhaled sharply, deciding honesty was the best course. “I was trying to provoke Ashworth.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Provoke Louis? Why? To demonstrate your prowess as a libertine?” She laughed, the sound brittle and harsh in the quiet library. “How utterly childish.”
“I know.” John stepped closer, thankful she didn’t step away. “I know it was childish. I was—” He swallowed hard, his pride making the words stick in his throat. “Well . . . I was jealous.”
“Jealous?” Maddie’s voice rose, then she glanced at the door and lowered it again. “You have no right to jealousy, John. You forfeited that right five years ago when you walked away. And when you took to warming other women’s beds.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” His voice cracked with emotion. The spirits made his words flow more freely than they should. “I see you with him—smiling, laughing. Knowing that his hands have been on you . . . knowing that you might marry him.”
He noticed the hesitation in her eyes, and John felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest, knowing that he might have pushed her into the man’s arms.
“My considerations are none of your concern,” she said finally, her voice steady despite the way her chest heaved. “And they certainly don’t justify your vulgar display.”
“No,” he admitted, dropping his gaze. “Nothing justifies that. I’m sorry. For a great many things.”
A silence stretched between them, besides the soft crackling of the dying fire and their uneven breathing.
When Maddie spoke again, her voice had lost some of its edge, replaced by what sounded like hurt.
“I heard what you said . . .” She stepped closer, eyes piercing in the moonlight.
“Was I just another conquest to you, John? Was I a story you told to men during your travels? About the young, naive girl who willingly gave herself to you?”
The question hit him like a physical blow. He moved toward her, forcing himself not to touch her. “No,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “God, Maddie, no. Never that.”
“Then what was I?” She searched his face, demanding truth.
John swallowed hard, willing her to believe what he would say next. “Everything,” he whispered. “You were everything.”
Maddie’s breath caught, but her expression remained guarded. “Yet not enough to stay for.”
“It wasn’t about you not being enough.” John’s voice broke as he moved closer, needing her to understand. “I was the one who wasn’t enough. Wasn’t strong enough to cope. And I will spend every single day for the rest of my life proving how much I love you. That I will never leave you again.”
“It’s too late,” she whispered, but she didn’t step away when his hand raised to cup her cheek.
“Is it?” His thumb traced the curve of her lower lip, and he felt her shiver beneath his touch. The moonlight caught in her eyes, turning them from gray to silver. “Tell me you feel nothing when I touch you, and I’ll walk away right now.”
Her breath caught again. “I hate you,” she said, but there was no conviction in the words.
“I know.” His other hand found her waist, drawing her closer. “I hate me too, most days.”
And then they crashed together, her fingers digging into his hair, while his mouth claimed hers with desperate hunger.
The kiss was violent, punishing—teeth clashing, tongues battling for dominance.
He backed her against the nearest wall, pinning her with his body, feeling her arch against him.
The heat of her pressed against him ignited something primal in his blood, a need to reclaim what had once been his.
“This changes nothing,” she gasped as his lips moved to her throat, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin there, marking her as his.
“Tell me to stop.” His hands worked the tiny buttons of her evening gown, fingers trembling with urgency.
But she didn’t tell him to stop. Instead, her fingers fumbled with his waistcoat, shoving it from his shoulders with equal desperation. “I still hate you,” she said, even as she pulled his cravat away from his neck and tossed it to the floor.
“You can hate me tomorrow.” He yanked her bodice down, exposing the creamy swells of her breasts to his hungry gaze. The pink of her nipples hardened in the cool air, beckoning him. “But tell me you need me right now.”
“John,” she moaned. He sucked her tightly budded nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak while his hand cupped her other breast, thumb teasing its twin to hardness.
He pulled back and blew a breath of air on her other nipple, watching her shiver in response. “I didn’t hear you say the words.”
She pushed her body against his, gripping his head and pulling his mouth to her nipple. “God, I fucking need you.”
When he lifted her, her legs wrapped instinctively around his waist, and then his lips crashed to hers again as he carried her to the settee near the fire. The weight of her in his arms and the scent of her skin made his head spin more than any wine.
“God, I’ve dreamed of this for so long,” he groaned as he laid her back, his body covering hers, the evidence of his desire pressing hard against her thigh.
She didn’t respond, but her hands clutched at his back, pulling his shirt over his head and then tossing it behind him. Her nails raked lightly down his chest, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
“You’re still the most beautiful woman who’s ever lived,” he murmured, hands skimming over her body. “So fucking perfect.”
Her response was to reach between them, fingers working at his falls. “Less talking,” she commanded.
He shifted away from her reach, so he was on his knees and pushed her legs farther apart, exposing her nest of curls to him.
Unable to wait, he lowered his head, needing to taste her.
His tongue trailed her seam, finding it already wet and swollen with need.
The sweet taste of her arousal was headier than any spirit, and he groaned against her flesh.
Maddie arched beneath him, a primal sound escaping her throat as his tongue circled her pearl.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging almost painfully as he devoured her.
John groaned against her heat, gripping her hips to hold her in place while he worshipped her.
Each flick of his tongue was an act of possession, a wordless claim that transcended their bitter history.
He didn’t relent, sucking and licking her pearl and then plunging his tongue deep inside of her cunt, as if he were a starving man. How had he ever allowed himself to leave her? To miss having her like this, spread before him as his own personal feast, for five long years?
Pulling back, he slid a finger inside of her, making her back arch off the settee. Her slick heat clenched around his digit, drawing him deeper.
“John,” she breathed, and his name on her lips made him all the more ravenous.
“I know what you like,” he growled, adding a second finger, curling them just so to stroke against that spot inside her that made her gasp. “Even now, I still know your body better than anyone ever will.”
She writhed beneath him, hands gripping his head in place when he resumed licking her sensitive nub, his fingers working in tandem with his tongue. When he knew she was close from the way her thighs trembled against his cheeks and the way her breathing shortened to desperate pants, he pulled back.
“John,” she gasped, her voice a broken plea. “I need—”
“Tell me,” he commanded, lifting his head to meet her gaze, eyelids heavy with desire. “Tell me what you need, Maddie.”
“You,” she whispered, the single word containing years of longing. Her hands reached for him, urgent and demanding. “Inside me. Now.”
He needed no further invitation. Rising to his feet, he shed his remaining garments with frantic haste, his manhood jutting proudly toward her. Maddie’s gaze traveled down his body, and the wicked grin on her face made his cock jump.
He lowered himself onto her, bracing his weight on his forearms as he positioned himself at her entrance. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the world around them ceased to exist. There was no past, no future—only this moment of perfect connection.
“Maddie,” he breathed, her name a prayer on his lips as he pushed inside her with one powerful thrust.
She gasped at the sensation. Their bodies fused together, seemingly remembering each other despite the years they’d spent apart. John stilled, overwhelmed by the tight heat enveloping him, by the perfection of being joined with her again. She fit him like a glove, her body welcoming him home.
“Fuck,” he gasped, struggling to hold still, wanting to savor the moment. Especially if this was the last chance he’d ever get. “I’ve been lost without you, Maddie. So goddamned lost. It was you I needed the entire time.”
She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper, her heels digging into the small of his back. “Please,” she commanded, urging him to move as her nails bit crescents into his shoulders.
His hips withdrew almost completely before driving forward again, setting a punishing rhythm that felt better than anything he’d ever felt before.
With every thrust, he took her harder, more desperately than the last. He held her in place, entering her as deep as he could.
“Yes,” she moaned, tilting her head back, exposing the elegant line of her throat where he had marked her earlier. “Like that. Don’t stop.”
John would never stop if he had his way.
Not when she felt this good around him, not when her body was responding to his as if they’d never been apart.
He lowered his head, capturing her lips with his, kissing her as if it was the air he needed to breathe while his hips continued their relentless pace.
“John,” she gasped, rocking harder against him, meeting him thrust for thrust.
“Let go,” he growled against her mouth, feeling his own release building, coiling tighter each time he buried himself deep inside of her. “Come for me, Maddie.”
Her cunt clenched around him, her body going rigid beneath him as her climax overtook her. She shook and moaned into their kiss, her nails scoring his back as waves of pleasure consumed her. After one last thrust, he pulled out of her with a hoarse cry, releasing in a pool on her stomach.
John’s chest heaved as he collapsed beside her on the narrow settee, their limbs tangled together in the aftermath of passion. For several minutes, neither spoke, the only sound in the library their ragged breathing.
He found his handkerchief from the pile of clothes on the floor, using it to wipe away the evidence of his release from her stomach. When he finished cleaning her, his fingers lingered on the smooth skin of her abdomen, tracing idle patterns there.
“Maddie,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I meant what I said. I’ve been lost without you. And I know I have no right to ask, but please—give me another chance. Let me prove to you I’ve learned from my mistakes. That I can work every day to be the man you deserve.”
She sat up abruptly, pushing him away as she reached for her discarded clothing. Her movements were jerky, uncoordinated, as if she couldn’t bear to remain in his presence a moment longer.
“Maddie—” he pleaded, reaching for her.
“No.”
The word sliced through his heart as she pulled her bodice up, fumbling with the buttons, her fingers trembling.
“I also meant what I said. This changes nothing, John. Nothing.”
He watched her, the afterglow of their passion disappearing. “How can you say that? After what just happened between us—”
“What happened was a mistake,” she cut sharply. “A momentary weakness. Nothing more.”
John reached for her, but she backed away from him.
“Maddie, please. You can’t tell me you didn’t feel it too.”
“Feel what?” She laughed wildly, eyes glassy with unshed tears. “Lust? Regret? Of course I felt those things.”
He flinched as if she’d struck him. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“What did you mean, then?” Her voice rose slightly. “That five years of pain and torment can be erased with one passionate encounter? That your abandonment means nothing now that you’ve had me again?”
John rose from the settee, not bothering to hide his nakedness while she continued to dress.
“I meant that there’s still something between us, Maddie. Something real. Something worth fighting for.”
She turned away from him, her shoulders trembling slightly. “You had your chance to fight for us five years ago. You chose to leave.”
She darted out of the library without another word, leaving him naked and alone. Taking with her the final shred of hope that he might know what it was to be with the woman he loved.