The Wallflower Wager - Tessa Dare Page 0,57

doesn’t have to be me, but—” She broke off. “No. Forget that last. It does have to be me. I’m generous, but I’m not that generous. When it comes to this, I’m not willing to share.”

“Penny, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re on about.”

“I love you.” She exhaled in a huff. “There. Is that simple enough?”

Chapter Twenty

Simple?

Gabe stared at her. No, it wasn’t simple. It was incomprehensible.

“I love you,” she repeated.

“And what of it? You love everyone.”

“Not this way.” She reached for his hand and gave it a tender caress. “I love you.”

“Penny, stop.” Emotion held his throat in a vise. “You have to stop.”

“I don’t think I could if I tried. And I don’t want to try.” She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it.

Her gesture was wrong, so wrong. Gentlemen kissed ladies’ hands, not the reverse. And they most certainly didn’t do so in reeking, filthy slums.

His blood pounded at the door of his soul, and it would not be denied.

She kissed him first, bless her, moaning softly against his mouth, granting him permission to take control. He slid his hands to her backside and lifted, pushing her up against the brick wall.

“Here,” he rasped. “Now.”

“Yes.”

They raced for the same goal, her tugging at the buttons of his trousers, him hiking her skirts. By the time her touch skimmed the shaft of his cock, he was already primed and aching. When he slid two fingers into her wet heat, triumph surged through him.

Yes, she wanted this. She wanted him.

He withdrew his touch and brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean. God, she was sweet. And he was depraved, base.

She arched against him in a silent plea. He couldn’t wait another moment. Reaching between them, he took his cock in hand and guided it home.

She gasped as his first thrust sank deep. Her fingernails bit into the nape of his neck, making him wince with joy.

She came quickly, her inner muscles clenching into a slick fist. He thrust through every sharp, keening wave of her pleasure, shredding her frock to tatters against the brick wall. Sheathing himself to the crude, thick hilt. Faster, harder. Her soft, rhythmic sobs of passion mingled with his harsh, guttural sounds.

He was surely hurting her, and yet he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t even bring himself to slow down. If he paused for a single instant, the truth would catch up with him. He’d be forced to reckon with the fact that he was taking her in an alleyway like a whoring brute. And he’d be reminded, once again, that he didn’t deserve her—could never hope to deserve her.

So he galloped onward, desperate. Racing through that dark, lonely tunnel of yearning until he emerged into blinding light. The place where eternity was measured in heartbeats, and nothing mattered that wasn’t joy.

In the aftermath, he slumped against her, shuddering with the pleasure of release.

And then, as the pleasure ebbed, the inevitable shame and disgust crept in. He looked around them, wrinkling his nose at the reeking alleyway and the puddled God-knew-what at his feet. Bile rose in his throat. He forced himself to meet her eyes—those lovely blue eyes. Eyes shining with an emotion he called foolishness and she called love. Perhaps they were one and the same.

Whatever name it went by, that emotion had found its way inside him, stretching his ribs and carving out space in his chest. Settling in.

How had she done it? Of all people, he knew how to lock up his heart, shutter the windows, bar the doors. She’d wormed through a keyhole somehow, made herself at home.

Damn it, Gabe couldn’t let her stay. He knew how to force an eviction with a ruthless, cold-blooded strength. He’d allowed his willpower to slacken over recent weeks.

Now it was time to flex.

The danger was too great. Not to her reputation—her life was hers to do as she wished—but to her heart. Her lovely, shining soul. If he destroyed her trusting, generous nature, he wouldn’t know how to live with himself.

Gabe lifted her in his arms and carried her out of the labyrinth of the rookery. He wasn’t going to allow any further damage to her frocks. Not on his account.

When they reached the main thoroughfare, he waved for a hackney cab. “Mayfair,” he told the driver. “Bloom Square.”

He tucked Penny inside the cab, carefully settling her on the seat. She moved over to make room for him.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?”

“For this.” He slammed the door of the