A Secret Surrender - Darcy Burke Page 0,80

father’s approval and support before then.

She would also have six or eight weeks of Harry.

The past week—the times she’d shared with Harry—had been a dream. But it couldn’t continue, as much as she wanted it to. She wanted more riding lessons. She wanted to read his treatise about the trial of Sir Thomas Overbury. She wanted to spend time with his oversized, boisterous family and feel as though she were a part of something more than herself. But none of that was to be.

As soon as the Season was over, she would leave London. She had to. She couldn’t afford to stay. Part of her screamed to end things now, that the longer their affair went on, the harder it would be to say goodbye.

Finishing her wine, she stood and bade Beatrix good night before going up to her chamber. The moment she opened the door, she knew something was amiss.

Harry stepped out from behind the curtain hanging around the window. “Oh good, it’s you.”

A line of cold sweat beaded along the back of her neck. Had he overheard her and Beatrix’s discussion? “Good heavens, Harry. I see you’re better at stealing into places than you are at spying in gardens.”

He came toward her, his lips curving into a smile. “I was particularly motivated this evening. I couldn’t wait to toss a pebble at the window.”

Relief coursed through her. No, he couldn’t have heard anything. He kissed her, a now-familiar touch of his lips followed by the sweep of his tongue and the answering sway of her body as she melted into him. The suppressed emotions from her meeting with Rafe caught up to her. Feelings swelled inside her: sadness, anticipation, regret…lust.

Being with Harry made her forget better than anything else in her life had so far. With him, she didn’t have to think about what to do next. There was no planning, no worrying, no concern at all. She could just…be.

Eager to lose herself, she pushed his coat off and steered him toward the bed. He began to pluck the pins from her hair. “Did you lock the door?” he asked against her mouth.

“Damn,” she breathed before turning and setting the lock.

She removed her shoes with haste and strode toward him.

“In a hurry?” Harry asked with a smile.

“Don’t talk.” She cupped his face and kissed him with ardent need, as if he were what she needed to survive. Not whatever she had planned for tomorrow or next week. Just him. Now. This.

He finished pulling her hair down, letting the pins fall to the floor. Stroking his hands through her locks, he kissed her again and again, their lips parting and meeting between sighs and darker sounds of need.

She pulled his cravat away and hurriedly unbuttoned his waistcoat. Grasping the hem of his shirt, she pushed it up, exposing the hard plane of his abdomen and chest. He tossed the garment to the floor as she put her mouth on him, her lips and tongue moving over his nipples and up to the hollow of his throat.

He clasped her head, moaning as she stroked her hand over the ridge of his cock straining against his breeches. He abruptly turned her and furiously unlaced her gown, pushing it down over her hips as soon as it was loose enough. Her petticoat followed, then he attacked the laces of her corset. That garment joined the others at her feet, leaving her clad in just her chemise and stockings.

His hands moved over hips, pulling her back against him so that she felt his erection against the top of her backside and the small of her back. He skimmed his palms up her front and cupped her breasts through the chemise.

“No talking?” he whispered against her ear before kissing along her neck.

Sensation and need throttled her. “I can’t,” she managed between gasps.

“Then let me. What do you want, Selina? My hands here?” He tugged on her nipples. It wasn’t enough. She pulled the chemise up, and he helped take it over her head before throwing it away.

He put his hands on her again, cupping and squeezing, then pinching. “Better?”

She cast her head back into the crook of his shoulder, closing her eyes. One of his hands moved down over her belly, then pressed over her mound. Arching into his palm, she moaned softly, her legs parting.

He slipped a finger into her folds. “Better still? Do you want to come like this?” He speared into her, filling her so she cried out. She pumped her