Chapter 14 #2
“Can you show me what that is so that I understand what I’m giving up?
” she breathed. “I thought I could resist this. I thought I could just not know and that somehow that would make it better. Easier even. But I think that’s not the case.
I think I need to know what the alternative is to me running off and living alone for the rest of my days. ”
“And if this is terrible,” he said, gesturing between them, “you will flee to Italy and leave me heartbroken and alone?”
She tsked. “I do not think you could ever be heartbroken and alone. You are too beloved by the ladies.”
He was still for a moment before he whispered, “One can be beloved by a crowd and be completely and totally alone.”
She sucked in a soft breath. “Is that how you feel?”
He nodded.
“That’s how I feel too,” she whispered.
He blinked, rather astonished. “Why?” he said.
“Because no one understands what it’s like to be me.”
“And no one understands what it’s like to be me,” he replied.
“Then perhaps, the very best thing is—”
And then he kissed her.
Ernestine had always been a practical person.
She did not need the touch of others, nor did she actually desire it. As a matter fact, she had spent most of her life separate from other people, aside from her friends and her cousins.
And even with them, there’d been something inside of her which had kept her distant.
She’d never even longed for the touch of a man.
Now? It was really only one person’s touch she longed for. She desired Victor’s. Oh, she knew that he was skilled, but this felt different.
Even she knew that he seemed possessed by her, as if she was a potion he longed to quaff, to drink down, to consume. She wanted to be consumed by him, touched by him, adored by him. It was the wildest thought, the wildest compulsion, but she couldn’t stop it.
With his arms wrapped around her body, pulling her close to his hard frame, she did not resist. No, she gave in. She longed to, because she did not know when she’d ever have this chance again.
Likely never, because she planned to go away and live the life of a recluse. Here was her one chance, her one opportunity to know the touch of a man like Victor’s. How could she say no to that, especially when he was gazing upon her as if she was the center of all things?
She, Ernestine Foxley, the center of his universe?
Indeed, he looked at her as if the sun was the dimmest thing in the world and she was the brightest.
So when his mouth took hers with a kiss, she allowed herself to be swept up in the fire. Their mouths tangled. At first, she had no idea how to respond.
After all, this was entirely beyond her.
She wasn’t even particularly interested in passion in books.
She was far more interested in histories, and there was not a great deal of description of kisses in histories.
But now, dear God in heaven, she was interested!
She was still for a moment, but then it was as if some part of her suddenly turned on.
He had found some button within her she had not known existed?
And his caresses? For lack of a better way to put it, they pushed said button.
She softened against him, her mouth parting, her lips savoring the touch of his. When his tongue slid into her mouth and caressed hers, she felt her body arch, her legs go limp, and it was only his embrace that held her upright against him.
Her breasts strained against her gown, and being pressed to his frame made her body dance with need.
Oh, how she wished to see and feel his hard chest. It was if he knew exactly what she wanted, because he backed her into the tree, the hard bark rough against her back.
She let out a momentary cry, and he relented ever so slightly, but he was trapped so entirely in his own passion that he did not think.
Think? What was thinking for in moments such as this? Surely, thinking should be abandoned. And so she did everything she could to get rid of the part of her brain which usually ruled her every action and made commentary about everything she did.
His hands went to her spencer. He quickly unbuttoned it, and then he kissed down the line of her throat, tilting her head so that he could worship that curve.
He then kissed down her sternum and, much to her shock, he freed her breasts from the tight cut of her gown, pulling her bodice down ever so slightly.
He let out a groan of pleasure.
That sound did something inexplicable to her. She loved it.
Ernestine held on to him tightly, stunned that she was allowing such a thing. But she thrilled at the madness of it.
He took her pink nipples, one by one, into his mouth. His mouth teased them, sucking on them, and she let out a groan of pleasure for the ache between her legs suddenly felt unbearable.
Feverishly, she pulled at his coat.
He whipped it off and threw it to the ground, and her fingers fumbled at the buttons of his waistcoat. This was all happening fast, like a madcap dream, but if it was a dream, surely anything she wished could happen.
He helped with the buttons of his waistcoat and he yanked his shirt over his head, letting it fall to the ground.
Her hands slipped along his hard muscles, learning the curves, the sinews, the valleys, the mountains of him.
Good Lord, he was perfection, and then he took her mouth again in a wicked kiss as he grabbed ahold of her gown and pressed her up against the tree.
She had nowhere to go, nor did she wish to.
He grabbed her skirt and slid it upward, exposing her stockinged calves and then her bare thighs.
She let out a shudder of amazement before he dropped to his knees before her.
He parted her legs ever so slightly, and then he began to kiss her below as he had her lips.
She grabbed onto his shoulders, her legs nearly giving out, but he held her up.
“What are you doing?” she asked, barely able to speak.
“Showing you exactly what you deserve,” he growled.
And then he teased and kissed so relentlessly, so perfectly, that she pitched over into a bliss so intense that she feared she would never find herself again.
When she was done, her legs trembled and she stared at him with awe.
Slowly, he stood and gazed down into her eyes. She could have sworn that with that single look, he had laid claim to her. With that one look, she knew that she was in trouble because she could never belong to anyone. Not even him.