Undone by His Kiss

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Undone by His Kiss Page 23

by Anabelle Bryant


  But she was no fool.

  And too, he held her hips, refusing to allow her to exclude him, the low tenor of his chuckle vibrating against her skin with tremulous sensitivity.

  “It’s just a kiss,” he whispered, before licking and stroking her with infinite finesse. She wriggled with incredible pleasure, her climax cresting fast, without warning, to wash over her in waves of indescribable delectation that left her light-headed and sated beyond her wildest imaginings.

  He returned to her side, smiling, the audacious scoundrel, and as she viewed him from lowered lids, she couldn’t help but return his grin. “Did you invent that as well?”

  “Not I.” He held back a laugh. “I’m a mere investor.”

  She waited another minute, willing her heart to calm to a manageable rhythm. “May I kiss you like that?” She’d screwed up her courage, though in truth she wished to offer him the same gratification he’d shown her.

  His eyes flickered with wicked delight though he remained silent. Too silent. For a heartbeat she wondered if she’d somehow offended him. His expression read as a man who struggled with internal indecision. She’d ease his pain.

  Without a word she slid from the mattress, her fingertips gliding over his ribs to rest on his hipbones as she sank to the floor beside the bed, the plush bedside carpet soft beneath her knees.

  “What are you about, Miss Shaw?” He fairly choked the words, his jaw clenched.

  “Equality for all, Mr. St. David.” She spared no more time on conversation.

  With tentative ambition, she wrapped her fingers around his cock, hard and hot, soft and velvety to the touch. He drew a sharp breath inward and shifted. Her other palm rested at his hip, where his muscles tensed as he adjusted his stance, the slightest nudge forward, as if a silent plea of surrender and shameless entreaty. A secret smile curled her mouth as she rested him against her lips. Dare she take him in her mouth? He gasped a low guttural sound that could only be construed as approval despite he couldn’t read her thoughts.

  She licked the length of him in timid exploration and his hands came to her shoulders, to steady or secure, really didn’t matter. Pleased with his reaction to the gentle stroke of her tongue, she pursed her lips around the tip of his hard strength, the slick velvet of his arousal emboldening her experiment in search of new discovery; and so she opened her lips and shyly tempered the pace of one caress. Should she draw forward? Suck lightly? How enthralling to hold the pressure of her hand around his thickness, the caress of her tongue against his potent desire, the delight of knowing she offered him return pleasure.

  The room grew silent. She could hear nothing other than her heartbeat, his breathing, the simmer of the fire in the hearth, the passage of time nonexistent, the extent of their love play purely genius. Lost in the beauty of their intimacy, she skated her teeth against him, soothing the path with a determined rub from her tongue as she withdrew. He uttered a curse, then another, all at once rigid and yet she swore he trembled beneath the pressure of her palm.

  “Enough.” He groaned the words and forced back a step. “I need to make you mine.”

  She blinked with his admittance, her eyes finding his. “I’m already yours.”

  “Not like this, Miss Shaw, I assure you.” He grasped her below the elbows, lifting her with gentle determination and placed her on the bed before he moved to cage her in, his long, muscled legs astride hers, the first touch of his cock, hot and hard against her sex.

  “Then do what you will. You have my heart. Take all of me.” She tossed him a saucy smile.

  “That, my love, is an investment I can’t refuse.”

  He settled between her legs, his head bowed, a stray lock of hair across his forehead as if he begged for patience or some other emotion she couldn’t fathom. Feeling quite the opposite, she wriggled her hips, angling so he settled nicely against her warmth, and wrapped her legs around his thighs to lock him into place.

  “I’m trying to be gentle.” The words sounded as if he ground them through his teeth.

  “And I, indulgent, although I’m quite anxious whenever you’re ready to proceed.” She punctuated her confession with a shift of her hips. Again his erection brushed against her sex, but this time Jasper shot his attention to her face where he matched eyes and drove into her with temperate finesse, her slick passage more than prepared to accept him.

  She had no words for the blissful state of Jasper inside her, buried deep in her heart and sheathed within her body; the sense of fulfillment rare and precious, unable to be defined.

  He paused and she found a slight smile, aware he worried for her comfort and benefit, so she reached up, touching his jaw with her fingers, assuring she wanted what he wanted, their goals one and the same.

  He withdrew a measure, beginning a rhythm that stoked their passion and emboldened her response. She arched her body to meet his thrusts, holding tight to his biceps, the flex of his muscles beneath her hands proving his restraint, igniting her desire to learn every part of him, to explore his masculinity the same way he’d discovered every inch of her. Another stroke. Another. Harder. Jasper leaned in, his dark lashes bowed as he captured her mouth in a soul-searing kiss and with a growl of pleasure, spilled into her at last.

  “Jasper?” Her questions whispered against his shoulder. “What happens now?”

  They remained cuddled beneath the sheets spent from lovemaking, the likes of which he’d never experienced; the emotional and physical perfectly tuned, alive in the thrum of his pulse. He smiled; her inquiry the conduit to a plethora of interpretations. He shifted to his side, one hand propped under his ear, anxious to understand her concerns as easily as her words. “Do you wonder of the creative ideas springing to mind or are you curious of how quickly I will obtain a special license?”

  Her eyes flared before she answered. “Your brother is an earl.” The words held an unsettling note of distress. “Our intimacy…” She hesitated, her cheeks gaining a fetching shade of pink. “Has changed me irrevocably, but cannot lead any further.” She took a deep breath. “Your brother is a highly regarded member of the noble rank.”

  How dare she invite his brother into their moment? How disappointing that she still worried about societal pressures. “This I know well as Dash is fond of reminding me.” He swept a stray wave of hair behind her ear. “He tromps over my goals using his title as an excuse. I can hear him in my sleep. I’m the sixth Earl of Dashwood.” He did his best impression in hope of producing a smile on Emily’s face, but the tactic failed, her expression more troubled than before.

  “Surely he would disapprove of my…”

  She paused, confusion producing an adorable scowl. He smoothed his fingertip over her brows. “Your beauty? Not to worry there. His new bride is quite pretty and Wilhelmina will embrace you. I have no doubt.” When she remained silent he pushed on. “Your clever wit? Generous spirit? Rare intellect?” He touched the tip of her nose. “Even Dash must be aware I could only love a woman who captivates my mind as much as my heart.”

  “I meant to suggest my background.” Her expression softened. “I am a by-blow. A bastard daughter. A child born on the wrong side of the blanket. No one of importance. And as we’ve recently discovered, I’m also related in a reproachful manner to Kellaway’s scandal.”

  He scowled in wonder if her pause indicated she’d run out of disparaging descriptions. “Stop. None of what you mentioned matters to me.”

  But she continued. “Your brother cares greatly of his reputation. I’m quite certain all of it would matter to him.”

  She glanced toward the window across the room and Jasper watched her every emotion, his heart thumping a heavy beat. He’d never cowered under his brother’s disapproval and he wouldn’t begin now. “You’re not marrying my brother.”

  “Nor am I marrying you.”

  Her faint admittance caught him by surprise. He hadn’t a chance to recover when she wriggled from his side, his hand lashing out to catch hers.

  She
tugged to free herself. “It’s complicated.”

  He released her and sat up, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Nothing we can’t resolve.”

  She nodded her head in the negative. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this.”

  Each word seemed to draw her further into herself, away from the bond they’d formed, yet only a handful of minutes had passed. “Do what?” So much depended on her answer.

  “I told you, it’s complicated. There’s more to this decision.”

  Her voice grew stronger and she moved closer to her side of the mattress. Regrets? Already? Did she mean to leave because of this? Or was she supplying further evidence of why she believed they wouldn’t suit? “You haven’t given me reason to doubt you. If anything, your confession strengthens my affection.” He reached across to gently turn her chin so she looked him in the eye. “We all have our burdens.”

  She didn’t appear convinced although she stopped her motion to escape.

  “I never anticipated any of this.” The genuine tone of bewilderment in her voice amused him.

  “Nor I.” He drew her closer, against the shelter of his chest and securely tucked where she couldn’t scamper free. Perhaps reassurance of his commitment was all she required to feel at ease. “But never would I deny serendipity.”

  “It’s not that simple.” She twisted to face him, her eyes clouded with sadness.

  “It’s not that complicated.” He cradled her face with his palm and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I love you. We’ll be married…endeavor a beautiful little family.” She stiffened beneath him.

  “I have to leave.” Panic laced the statement.

  Her frantic insistence to gain freedom from his grasp resulted in a twisted tangle of the sheets, until freed, she skittered about his bedchamber to gather her clothes. She donned her chemise and underclothes while he left the bed and grabbed his trousers. Did she mean to dress and leave? She couldn’t possibly think to do such a thing. Objections ignited his brain, though he struggled to choose the correct response. “Wait.” He settled for the one word.

  She turned to him, the glisten of fresh tears in her eyes.

  “You can’t deny what we shared. I know your heart. I know you care for me.” He wanted to boldly insist that she loved him. She had said the words, hadn’t she? He was all at once unsure, afraid to suggest what she might deny. Had he become so lost in their lovemaking that he’d imagined her heart’s confession, hopeful she experienced the same connection? Hadn’t she confessed her heart as honestly as he’d revealed his?

  “I do care for you, Jasper.” A degree of fight left her and her shoulders softened. A wayward tear coursed down her cheek. “That’s why this is so difficult.”

  He pulled her into his embrace, resting his chin on the top of her head, her cheek against his chest. “Nothing we can’t sort out between us.” He held her tighter.

  “I never meant to make this choice.”

  She paused and he waited, his heart pounding in his chest at what she might say next.

  “You have my heart, Jasper, but I can’t marry you.”

  “What does that mean?” He couldn’t fathom a resolution to her confession.

  “It means I care very deeply for you.” She shook her head slowly as if to correct herself. “I love you. I want to be with you, but I can’t marry you.”

  “You’re not making sense.” He loosened his hold and tipped her chin so she matched his eyes. “I work with facts. I compare risk and benefit. I reason with logic and rational thought and everything you’re saying to me now is a contradiction. Am I misunderstanding?”

  She stayed silent for several excruciating breaths, her expression unreadable.

  “I do want to be with you, Jasper.” Her eyes glistened with tears. “I can’t marry you though.”

  “Are you suggesting you’d become my mistress?” He released her and walked a few feet away, tense with anger and bombarded by a plethora of conflicted emotions. After what she’d just stated concerning her birth, she couldn’t be accepting of the same path.

  Stunned by his question, her eyes grew wide as if coming to an awesome realization, comprehension of all they’d experienced, the words they’d exchanged, taking root and settling. “No.” Her word expressed resolute finality. “I can’t be with you like this. I didn’t mean for this to happen, and now it has and I don’t know what I feel or what to do. Everything is different. It’s all changed.” Tears coursed down her cheeks and she wiped them away with haste. “I thought I understood, but now I’m scared that I’m like my mother and I’ve spent so long, so many years, protecting myself from becoming her. Now, in one night, with one decision, I’ve altered everything. Bound to a man by emotion but unable to have him in my life.”

  He took a step toward her but she held her hand up to ward him off.

  “Don’t.” She wiped her cheeks again. “There’s nothing for you to solve here. Nothing to say. I need to think, away from you.” She gathered her gown from the floor and attempted to reassemble herself, and he quickly came to her aid though he didn’t utter a word. And when she collected all her belongings and stood in the doorframe about to leave, she glanced over her shoulder as if soaking in his image, before she hurried down the stairs and away, leaving him altered in the very worst way.

  The words were there on her tongue, waiting to be said.

  My mother’s mind is no longer right. I worry whenever I leave her for long periods of time. Her disposition is unpredictable and her emotions erratic. She’s a shadow of herself since my father left. Sometimes for weeks, she lives in an alternate world, where love hasn’t hurt her or injured her pride. Then all of a sudden, she rejoins life as if nothing ever happened. Except I know. I notice and watch and wait for any sign of inconsistency to reveal she’s having another lapse of sound mindedness. I will forever care for her of course, but the future may not be easy. As much as I love you, Jasper, I could never bring the shame of illegitimacy to your doorstep, never mind the embarrassment of my mother’s declining health. I wish it could be different, but while I strive for independence, a piece of me will always be tied to the past.

  Yet she couldn’t form the words. Not when he believed her worth his love and attention, precious enough for a marriage proposal. He regarded her with the highest esteem.

  Not at all like her father. Willing to discard her without a backward glance or obligatory consideration other than a sum settled to meet the financial burden of their future.

  Jasper loved her. She saw it in his eyes as he leaned into her, and made her his in the most intimate of ways, more precious than words. Still, she couldn’t confide her mortification, the risk to his reputation outweighing the embarrassment to hers. She didn’t regret a minute they’d spent together. Instead she mourned what she wanted with all her heart, but rightfully couldn’t have.

  Snapping her focus to the present, she rushed down the street as far from the apartments as her slippers could carry her. Tears stung her eyes, the words a bitter taste in her mouth. She wanted to spit them out or swallow them away. To be rid of them once and for all, exhausted of guarding a secret that had no solution.

  A cool breeze stirred the leaves on the cobbles and she pushed further down the street, fighting the onslaught of emotion that warred against her. In the deepest corners of her heart she knew Jasper didn’t judge. That he wouldn’t exclude her or her mother. His character composed of goodness and exceptional benevolence.

  But what of reputation?

  Did it matter? He’d gone against his brother’s wishes and formed a business venture all his own. He’d openly confessed his feelings, suggested marriage, all the while knowing of her illegitimate birth. Wouldn’t he likewise understand about her mother? To the depths of her soul, she knew he would.

  So why had she run? Why had she pushed him away after experiencing the most wonderful life-changing afternoon? She stopped, almost tumbling off the curb with riveting force. What in all heavens wa
s she doing? Running scared? She was no coward. She was strong and independent. She made choices that suited her needs, not impinged on the needs of others.

  But her mother…

  No. This was her life to live. She wouldn’t allow her mother’s choices to dictate her future and destroy the love she held for Jasper.

  She’d made a terrible mistake. Fleeing from the most incredible man she’d ever known. A man who whispered I love you, Miss Shaw in her ear while he made sweet sensual love to her. A man whose caresses seared her soul, whose kisses bound her heart. A man who made her heart drum with one glance of his amazing green eyes.

  She shook her head, awestruck at her stupidity. Determined to reverse her course, she jetted into the street, anxious to apologize to Jasper for her ridiculous flight.

  Chapter 30

  He watched the scene occur as if he hung on a cloud, above the action, but too far away to intercede. Her bonnet, a spot of gold in the flow of pedestrian traffic, kept Emily within eyeshot, no matter he’d run through the London streets in complete dishabille, without waistcoat and cravat, his emotions as devastated as his assemble. He’d almost reached her when she came to an abrupt stop. He did so in kind, his chest heaving a ragged breath of relief. She turned. To make her way back to him? With hope she’d come to her senses.

  Again he spurred to motion, anxious to reclaim her within his arms and reassure her fears, but she bolted into the street without heed of the corner where a sleek phaeton whipped around the curb startling a mule attached to a coal-heaver’s cart at the center of the chaotic tangle of coaches and conveyances. She dodged the oncoming phaeton with efficient grace and maneuvered past the heaver’s cart. A pulse of reprieve settled his heart.

  But that calm was short lived.

  The coal worker, frantic to move his wagon and unable to grasp the mule’s reins, dropped his shovel to the pavement in a careless gesture and it landed in Emily’s path. The toe of her slipper caught on the iron handle as it clattered to the street without warning. His heart lurched, an unbidden warning wrenched from his throat as he vaulted to intercede, but he was too far. Too slow. And Emily crumbled to the street before he could catch her, the threatening thunder of London’s carriage traffic surrounding her prone form in the middle of the congested thoroughfare, no matter riders and drivers alike did their best to avoid the situation.

 

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