Chapter 11
JOHN
The grandfather clock in the library's corner chimed midnight, each toll unsettling John’s nerves even more.
He paced the length of the room willing his stomach to calm, the fire in the hearth doing nothing to warm the chill of uncertainty that gripped him.
It had been three hours since he’d handed Maddie his journal—three hours of torturous waiting, each minute stretching into eternity.
Outside, snow fell in thick, silent flakes, blanketing the estate grounds in pristine white.
The Christmas Eve sky was a canvas of midnight blue and silver stars, and John imagined the couple from his story.
It didn’t ease his fear that Maddie might not appear.
He ran his hand through his hair for the hundredth time, disheveling the dark waves, and stopped before the fireplace, bracing one arm against the mantel as embers sparked and danced.
Would she come to him? He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t.
His thoughts were a vicious cycle of hope and dread, memories of their passionate encounter in this very room. Maybe she’d read his journal, and it had only confirmed that she was better off without him and his troubles.
Doubt gnawed at him—he should never have given her the journal. He should have found the courage to say the words aloud instead of hiding behind ink and paper. And now it might be too late.
The door to the library opened with a soft click that pierced the silence like a gunshot.
John spun around, holding his breath. Maddie stood in the doorway, still dressed in the sapphire blue gown she’d worn to dinner.
Moonlight from the window behind him cast her in silver light, giving her an almost ethereal quality.
Her lips were slightly parted, her chest rising and falling with quickened breath.
She’d come to him. Despite everything, she’d come.
For a moment, neither of them moved. The air between them seemed charged with intensity, with all the words they’d never said and the years they’d lost. Then she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her.
His throat constricted with emotion. “Maddie,” he said, her name rough in his mouth, tasting of longing and fear. “I wasn’t sure you’d—”
She crossed the room with swift, determined steps, her eyes still not leaving his. Before he could finish his sentence, she was there, wrapping her arms around him with a force that nearly knocked him backward.
“I still love you,” she said against his chest, her voice muffled but clear. “God help me. I never stopped.”
His arms wrapped around her instinctively, holding her tight against him as if she might disappear if he loosened his grip. His body recognized hers immediately, responding with a fierce surge of love and possession that overwhelmed him.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered into her hair, breathing her in. “I never did.”
She pulled back just enough to look up at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Don’t you dare say that,” she said fiercely, her hands coming up to frame his face. “I read your journal. Every word. And I understand now why you left and what you were dealing with.”
“I lost control,” he admitted, one hand coming up to cup her cheek. “I was afraid of what I would become. That you would realize you had attached yourself to a sinking ship.”
“You should have let me decide that for myself.” There was a tinge of anger in her voice. “We lost five years, John. Five years we can never get back.”
“I know that now.” He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip, feeling her slight intake of breath. “I’ve spent years working to resolve everything I thought needed to change about myself before I could come back to you. But the entire time, the only thing that could make me whole . . . was you.”
She leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his. The question hung unspoken between them—what now?
With deliberate movement, he sank to one knee before her, still holding her hand in his. Her eyes widened, a smirk playing on her lips.
“Madeline Dawson,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt, “I have loved you since the moment I saw you all those years ago. I have loved you through separation and silence, through my own foolish pride and fear. I will love you until my last breath and beyond.” He swallowed hard, emotion threatening to choke him.
“I’m asking . . . begging, for the chance to spend the rest of my life proving that to you. Will you marry me?”
For one terrible moment, she was silent, and doubt clawed at his insides. Then a tear slipped down her cheek, followed by another, and she tugged at his hand, pulling him to his feet.
“Yes,” she whispered, and then louder, “Yes, John. I’ll marry you.”
Relief crashed through him, followed immediately by a surge of desire so powerful it made his knees weak.
He pulled her against him and kissed her, pouring years of longing into the press of his lips against hers.
She responded with equal fervor, her mouth parting, her tongue sliding against his in a dance of rediscovered passion.
His hands roamed her back, and the kiss deepened, grew more desperate, as if they were trying to reclaim all the moments they’d lost.
“Not here again,” she giggled against his mouth, even as her hands clutched at his shoulders. “My chamber.”
He pulled back just enough to see her face—cheeks flushed, lips swollen from his kisses, eyes dark with the same hunger that also consumed him.
She took his hand and led him toward the door. The journey to her chamber seemed endless, and he could barely restrain himself from pushing her against the wall and taking her there in the hallway.
Finally, they reached her door. As soon as it closed behind them, John pressed Maddie against it, his mouth landing on hers in a bruising kiss. His hands found the buttons of her gown, making quick work of them. The sapphire silk pooled at her feet, leaving her in just her stays and chemise.
“We’re marrying as soon as possible,” he growled against her neck as he tugged at her stays. The need to claim her, to make her irrevocably his, overwhelmed everything.
“We better,” she challenged, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled his mouth back to hers.
He made quick work of her remaining garments, and pulled his own shirt off his body, so he stood before her with only his breeches on. His breath caught at the sight of her, his future bride, taking in the gentle curve of her breasts, the indent of her waist, the flare of her hips.
“Christ, look at you,” he breathed, running his hands down her sides before gripping her hips. “And you’re all mine.”
She reached for the fastening of his breeches, her fingers brushing against his erection through the fabric and sending ripples of pleasure through his body. “Too many clothes,” she murmured, and he groaned at her touch.
Naked and before he could catch his breath, she walked him backward toward the bed and pushed him down onto it.
She followed him onto the bed, crawling over him with a predatory grace that stole his breath. John reached for her, squeezing her breasts with both hands.
“You were so good to me last time,” she purred against his lips. “It’s my turn to take care of you.”
His cock throbbed from her words, and he grinned against her mouth. He reached up and removed the pins from her hair so it fell down around her shoulders.
“Do you remember what I showed you back then?” he asked, pushing her up, so she sat upright on top of him. “How we can pleasure each other at the same time?”
She fisted her hand around his cock in response, stroking him. “Mmm, I believe I do.”
Unable to wait, he gripped her hips and urged her to reposition herself. “Then get up here.”
Maddie positioned herself opposite of him, straddling his face and then laid down across his body, so her mouth was perfectly positioned at his cock.
She took him in her mouth without hesitation, and he groaned against her thigh before burying his face between her legs.
The dual sensation of her hot mouth around him while he tasted her sweetness was almost more than he could bear.
He licked and tasted every bit of her, circling her sensitive bud with his tongue as she moaned around his length.
Her hips rocked against his face as she worked him with her mouth, creating a rhythm between them that built and intensified with each passing moment.
John slid his hands up to grip her buttocks, holding her firmly against his mouth as he devoured her.
The taste of her, the feel of her mouth on him, the soft sounds she made . . . he’d never get enough.
“God, Maddie,” he gasped when she released him momentarily. “You’re perfect. So fucking good.”
She responded by taking him deeper, and he had to fight not to thrust up into her mouth. He redoubled his efforts, licking and sucking at her center with renewed passion, sliding two fingers inside her as his tongue worked her most sensitive spot.
He felt her thighs tremble around his head, her rhythm faltering as pleasure built within her.
Her moans around his cock grew more urgent, sending vibrations through him that threatened to shatter his control.
When he felt her tighten around his fingers, he curved them downward, finding the spot he knew would send her over the edge.
She came with a muffled cry, her body shuddering against his face as waves of pleasure washed through her. The sight and feel of her climax nearly undid him, but he wasn’t ready for this to end—not yet.
With a swift movement, John flipped them over and then shifted so he was positioned the same direction as her. Maddie lay beneath him, her hair spread around her, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Her eyes held his with an intensity that made his heart stutter.
“I want to be inside you,” he murmured, lowering his head to brush his lips against hers. “I need to feel you around me.”
“Yes,” she breathed, spreading her legs wider in invitation. “Please, John.”