An Heiress to Remember (The Gilded Age Girls Club #3) - Maya Rodale Page 0,59
I’d be suffering the same fate as the other low-ranking stores. Shopgirls in revolt. Customers fleeing and protesting at the entrance.”
“You’re welcome,” she said with a laugh.
“Let me thank you personally.”
“Yes, please. Especially if we move to that large bed over there.”
He didn’t need to look to know that she was referring to a massive four-poster bed topped with a feather mattress and mounds of pillows, all of which were made up in the finest, softest linens with silk-lined cashmere blankets. He’d been acutely aware.
“You did say that next time we should be in a bed,” she said softly. The words next time from Beatrice’s lips made him feel things.
“As you wish.”
And then before he knew it, they were trying to kiss and walk and undress and tumbling down on the bed, a tangle of bare skin and fabric and wanting.
His shirt was gone, lost somewhere on the floor. Her dress was a heap on the floor, her corset, too. Dalton lowered himself over her, sinking into the pleasure of her body beneath his and whispered, “I missed you, Bea,” before he could remind himself that they were just lovers by night, that she had broken his heart once, that he was supposed to be . . .
He couldn’t remember what he was supposed to be.
Because Beatrice was wrapping her arms around him, stealing kisses from his lips, and murmuring, “Touch me, Wes, it’s been so damned long. We have a lot of lost time to make up for.”
So they did.
His mouth on hers. His hands upon her full breasts. Her fingers threading through his hair. His mouth pressing kisses along her neck, the hollow of her throat and lower still. She lay upon the mattress, her hair spilling across the pillows, arching up to him, offering herself to him. His mouth closing around the dusky centers of her breasts. Her low moan of pleasure.
They were a tangle of limbs and kisses and bedding. Touching all the soft parts of her, tasting her bare skin, exploring what made her sigh. Remembering and rediscovering all the things they once knew about each other. Beatrice still laughed nervously when his hot trail of kisses on her belly went lower and lower still. And then she wasn’t laughing but her breath was shallow and quick and wanting.
“Let me please you, Bea,” he said quietly, hovering slightly above her and desperately wanting nothing more than to make her forget all that submitting and enduring and to chase away the cold she’d told him about. And she said yes.
She sighed, “Yes,” as her soft thighs opened to him.
Dalton felt another, sharper pang in his chest as she lay herself bare to him. She was making herself vulnerable. That word again. Trusting that he was going to be worth it. Forgiving. This was a second chance and he wasn’t going to waste it.
She moaned when his lips touched the delicate skin of her inner thighs before moving slowly to the soft folds of her sex. He breathed her in and teased her, gentle at first, before he found the rhythm of his mouth and tongue that had her breathing hard and fast. She threaded her fingers through his hair, guiding him. He lost himself in the moment, aware of nothing but the exquisite taste of her and the sound of her breathing and how she was writhing now, moaning and demanding more because she was closer and closer to the brink.
He didn’t stop. No, he intensified everything until he felt the climax rocket through her.
When she cried out in pleasure, the sound echoed through all six stories of this marble palace.
In an instant he realized he had done it all for her.
Not for revenge.
But to be worthy.
And that took his breath away.
“Hold me,” she said. He did, sinking into the soft, warm haven of her arms. His cock was hard and throbbing and feeling how she was wet and ready for him. Her lips claimed his for a deep kiss and he felt her hands press him closer to her.
He wanted to be inside her. Be one with her. Surrender to this driving need to connect.
But not even Beatrice in his arms and eager for him could make him forget where they were—a store, for God’s sake, where thousands of people passed through every day. He couldn’t forget that they weren’t just rivals or just lovers. Once upon a time, he thought she’d been the love of his life.