The Matter of a Marquess - Jess Michaels Page 0,38
fists against his chest, clinging to the fabric of his jacket for purchase in the stormy seas of desire.
He grunted and one of his hands that had been cupping her back moved lower. He traced a path down her spine with the back of his fingers, and she shivered with the feather-light touch. His hand came around to cup her hip, heavy against the curve that had been made for him to grip. He did so and tugged her even closer.
“Please,” she whispered against his mouth.
He groaned again, his fingers digging harder against her. They staggered together, hitting the bookshelf with a thud. He leaned there, caging her in and deepened the kiss even further.
Memory hadn’t been enough. She recognized that in this moment. Memory had been sweet and gentle, an inexperienced boy with a shy girl all wrapped up in love and hope and plans that never came to fruition. It had been a desire of something they didn’t yet fully understand.
Nine years had changed them both. Now he kissed her with purpose, with passion, with a decade of life that had made him a man. And she returned that kiss with the perfect knowledge of what could happen next. What she wanted to happen to next.
It was all inevitable, perhaps.
He leaned up closer, pressing her harder into the shelf. She felt the hardness of his cock against her belly and keened softly as she ground against him out of instinct. He swore into her mouth, a sound that resonated through her entire being. He broke their lips, but remained pressed to her, hard against soft as he looked down into her eyes, her soul, all the way through her.
“Aurora,” he panted.
She managed to extract her hand from where it was wedged between them and lifted her fingers to his lips. “Please don’t tell me you can’t or you won’t or we shouldn’t,” she whispered, far braver than she felt as she stripped herself down in front of him emotionally. She wanted to do it physically. She needed it.
“All those things are true, though,” he said, but he leaned in, bypassing her hand as he brushed the tip of his nose along the side of hers, his warm breath tickling her lips.
“If all those things are true, then why aren’t you stepping away?” she asked, dragging her fingers down his harsh jawline.
“Because I can’t,” he admitted with a sad smile. “I could never resist you.”
She would argue that point, but not right now. Not in this moment when she was so close to getting what she needed.
“Then don’t resist me.” A blush turned her cheeks to fire. Just because she knew what she wanted didn’t mean she was accustomed to the request she was about to make. It felt like lead in her throat. “I’m—I’m offering myself to you.”
His eyes went wide. “You mean—”
“Yes!” she said. “And I see those protests back in your eyes. Some kind of gentlemanly refusal you think you should make, but I’m a widow, Nicholas. You can’t ruin me. I don’t have a guardian who will rush in and call you out. My father is dead, my brother doesn’t treat me like a child. I know what I want. So take me upstairs to your bedchamber, and let’s stop pretending that what we wanted all those years ago doesn’t still hang between us, made worse by the fact that we can each imagine just how good it will be.”
For a moment she thought he might refuse. There was a flicker of concern on his face, a cataloguing of all the reasons why this would be a very bad idea. So she decided to tip the scales in her favor, however unfair it might be. She lifted up on her tiptoes and brushed her lips to his once more.
“Please, Nicholas,” she whispered. “Please give me what I’ve dreamt, imagined, fantasized about for so long.”
His jaw flexed, his pupils dilated, and then, without a word, he caught her hand and tugged her toward the door, toward his room, toward the future that had been stolen from them so many years ago.
Chapter 10
Nicholas opened the door to his chamber, and before he even guided her inside, his mouth was back on Aurora’s. He couldn’t help it. It was as he’d always feared, really. Once he started touching her, he was never going to stop, and everything that needed to be said and confronted was forgotten. Delayed? Forgiven like a fool?