Nor did she give up easily. She parted her lips, and he responded instinctively.
He’d give her this kiss. Finch had instructed him to keep her happy—not to upset her. Who was he to deny her anything?
Her mouth tasted sweet, reminding him of candy, and her lips were soft—and plump. And more talented than he’d have imagined with her limited experience.
When her slender arms curled around his neck, the image of a seemingly innocent spider weaving her web flashed through his mind. Because she felt like silk beneath his hands, luring him into her trap.
And succeeding.
Fire and confusion swept through him. Fire, because his blood flowed hot with desire. Confusion, because his body was taunting him. This was Tabetha! The woman who’d made herself the bane of his existence these past weeks.
The woman who’d scoffed his very existence as beneath her notice—who’d only ever valued gentlemen of rank.
And yet the desire that came to life had him wondering if he’d wanted her all along—just like this—warm, willing.
In bed, beneath him, surrounding him.
This was everything a kiss should be—hot, demanding, searching, fulfilling one promise even as another unfolded. And now his racing heart matched the throbbing in his cock. A tortured groan rumbled through the room. The groan came from him.
“Rock,” she pleaded. “Rock.”
Rock!
He tore his mouth away from hers, gasping. She believed she was kissing her loving husband—Rock Chester. It was all a lie. He was her husband, yes, but the rest of it was make-believe.
He couldn’t do this. She is not herself.
He was the only person who could anchor her to the world she’d forgotten. She depended on him. She trusted him.
But most of what he’d told her had been lies.
He struggled to catch his breath at the same time she tucked her face against his shoulder.
“I knew it would be good but it’s even better than I thought. I’m so glad I’m your wife.” She tilted her head back and gazed at him again, raw emotion showing in her eyes. “That felt like a first kiss—our second first kiss.”
Her fingertips danced along his jaw, stroking his beard, exploring, claiming an intimacy that shouldn’t exist between them.
Stone needed to slow her down and yet he rationalized that she wanted him, they were legally married, and perhaps…
She deserved this.
For as long as he’d known her, she’d dismissed any man who didn’t hold a title. She’d mocked him for being his father’s spare.
So why did she claim that her heart recognized him? Had she been attracted to him before, or was this supposed affection the only way her brain could cope with her loss of memory?
It had to be. The real Lady Tabetha never would have been so openly demonstrative.
Not to him, anyhow.
She trailed a gentle hand to the bare skin of his chest. He was only half-dressed, and she wore nothing but a night rail.
A thin and silky night rail.
Sitting together like this, it was almost as though they really were husband and wife.
“What was it like? The first time you kissed me before?”
I’m going to go to hell for this.
He’d always suspected she could be sweet like this, alluring and seductive. He’d just never imagined he’d be on the receiving end of it.
But how was he supposed to answer such a question?
“You set me on fire,” he admitted. “I knew I had to have you.”
Amazing that in this he was at least being partially honest. He cleared his throat. He was growing surprisingly partial to having her in his arms.
She held his gaze, her pupils growing larger, her breaths shorter.
Warning bells sounded, likely his conscience.
“And now you can,” she said.
Stone tucked her head below his chin, stroking her disheveled hair.
No way in hell was any of this going to end well. Unless she never regained her memory, that was. He froze at the thought. Such a scenario posed altogether different complications.
He was not Rock Chester, nor was she Mrs. Tabetha Chester. At some point in time over the next fifty or so years, she would no doubt discover these facts.
And then it wouldn’t matter that she was, in fact, Mrs. Spencer. She wouldn’t care that they were legally married.
But this… holding her. Kissing her. Her wanting him to make love to her… None of this was real.
She was grasping at a fantasy. Once she realized the true nature of their relationship, she’d no doubt hate him more than ever. She would regret moments like this, and damn his eyes, she