A Taste of Desire(121)

Amelia advanced closer, her gaze locked with his, willing him to show the barest hint of softening, anything to indicate he still cared—if only a little. He only stiffened, his jaw tight, drawing himself up to his full height.

“I couldn’t marry Lord Clayborough. I can’t marry any other man. Do you know why? Because I’m in love with you,” she said quickly before her courage deserted her altogether. She halted in front of him, her head tipped to meet his gaze. “I love you, Thomas.”


For a moment Thomas said nothing, did nothing, just stood fighting to control his emotions. She looked so beautiful, so vulnerable. He yearned to pull her into his arms. How he’d missed the taste and feel of her. He missed her indefatigable passion. But she’d let him walk away that night. Hadn’t tried to stop him. He’d made a fool of himself over a woman once before, and damn if he’d do it again.

“Is that what you wanted to say?” He made his voice cold. “If so, you’ve wasted both our time.”

“So what you felt for me is gone? In a month’s time, it is gone?” her words emerged choked, raw with emotion.

The pain he’d buried inside him since he’d left exploded. Gone? What he wouldn’t give that it was so. Unable to articulate his response, he inclined his head in a curt nod.

The light in her eyes went out like a snuffed candle. She turned her back to him, her arms wrapped tightly about her slender torso. He thought she was collecting herself, controlling her emotions, until her shoulders began to heave. Pitiful and desperate sobs shook her body as she stuffed fisted hands to her eyes. He knew what those tears had cost her. The last vestiges of seven years of control. She’d shed them only for him. Because she loved him, wanted him. Only him.

Thomas thought his head would burst and the ache in his heart would never subside. Watching her was more than any man could bear, never mind a man who loved her to his very soul.

“I love you, Thomas.” She sobbed it. She chanted it. The sweet melody of the sound echoed throughout the room.

He couldn’t stand anymore. Turning her around, he pulled her into his arms, absorbing her tears with his jacket.

“God, please don’t cry, Amelia. Do you want to cripple me?” he asked, his voice hoarse with emotion.

Her response was to wrap her arms tightly around his neck, and pull his mouth to hers in a desperate kiss. He tasted her tears and tasted the sweetness of her lips, neither able to savor, their need frightening in its intensity. Tongues met, teeth clashed, hands grappled for the other.

His hands sought her hips and then moved to cup her buttocks, pulling her hard against his throbbing erection. He could think of nothing else but laying her out on the rug and losing himself in her slick warmth, taking her again and again.

Releasing her mouth, his lips trailed her cheek to feather the back of her ear. Amelia let out a whimper. “I want you now,” he said on a groan. “Let’s go upstairs.”

Passion-drugged, glassy eyes stared up at him. “But the ball—”

He cut her off with a hard kiss. “I don’t care about the ball. I’ve had to survive almost one month without you. Tonight, I’m going to make love to you until I’ve had my fill—at least for tonight.” He would never get enough of her.

Without another word, he whisked her up to his chambers.

In short order he had them out of their clothes, black wool, lavender silk, and white muslin littering the floor. They came together in a burst of passion, desperate for the feel of their naked flesh in fiery contact. He kissed her deeply, plunging into her helplessly, his control long gone. She met every delectable stroke as her thighs encircled his hips. When Thomas felt the exquisite pressure of her contractions pulsing around him, he thrust into her one final time. Then he let himself go. His own peak catapulted him into unspeakable, unfathomable pleasure before he finally shuddered in completion. Limp and spent, he rested atop her, the brunt of his weight at her side, while he remained snug inside her.

* * *



Amelia never wanted to move from this position. Turning slightly on her side, she pulled him closer, her arms tight around his sweaty torso. “Does this mean you forgive me?”

Thomas made a sound between a groan and a laugh. “For that, I’d forgive you almost anything.” His eyes grew serious as he gazed at her. “Will you marry me?”

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Amelia could only manage a nod as tears began to stream down her face.