Goddess of the Hunt (The Wanton Dairymaid Trilogy #1)(95)

She swallowed and glared up at him. Ever so slightly, she leaned into his body. The firm swell of her br**sts brushed against his chest. “I did.One kiss.”

“One kiss.”

He grasped her face in his hands, angled it back, and brought his mouth down on hers. Hard. She squirmed against him, but he held her close, tangling his fingers in that tightly coiled hair. Her lips were pressed together, and he ran his tongue over them in a desperate plea.Open to me , he willed.Take me in .

Then suddenly, her hands shot under his coat and slid up his back, pulling him tight against her soft, supple body. Her lips parted to release a breathy moan.

It was all the invitation he needed. He thrust his tongue in her mouth and drank in that moan. Drank deeply, tasting her essence—golden and cool and sweet and wild, like ripe pears and honey. His mouth moved over hers again and again, and she welcomed his tongue with her own.

She moved closer. Wriggling into his coat, flattening her br**sts against his chest, tilting her hips against his. He worked one hand between their bodies to knead her breast. She sighed against his mouth. Her hands moved to his shoulders, cleaving his wet coat from his body and tugging it down. Without breaking the kiss, he let his hands fall to his sides, and she yanked the coat from his arms.

One kiss. One kiss that would never end. Not if he could help it. He cupped her face in his hands and held her mouth firmly against his as they sank down together. Down to their knees, then down to the carpet.

Then she was under him. So yielding and sweet, his body ached with desire. Her fingers worked beneath his shirt, burning trails of fire over the chilled flesh of his back. And words tumbled through his mind, so many words he longed to say.Beautiful andlovely anddear andheart andplease . Andwe andus andours . Andhelp me andhold me andtake me in . Anddon’t let me go andnever andnever andnever ever leave .

But he couldn’t say them. He couldn’t risk breaking this kiss. This one kiss that was everything. He pulled up her skirts in a rustle of silk and cambric, fumbling through the layers of petticoats and finding the slit in her drawers. She was hot and wet and clasping around his fingers, and the words changed tohurry andwant andneed andoh God andnow .

He tore open his breeches and slid into her, and she whimpered against his mouth. He withdrew and thrust again. She bit down on his lip. He stayed in her, grinding slowly against her. Then she threw her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to his tongue. And she wrapped her legs around his hips and opened herself to him.

He lost himself in her mouth and her arms and her legs and her tight, wet embrace. Again and again and again. He felt her arching and tensing and convulsing around him, and when she cried out against his mouth, he took it all in. Tasted her pleasure. Felt it surge through him, send him over the edge intoyes andyes andbliss andheaven andthank you andalways andmine .

He kissed her gently now, savoring the sweetness of her tongue. The smooth, plump curve of her lower lip. The corners of her mouth, which tasted curiously of salt.

Salt and bitterness. Like tears.

Jeremy broke the kiss and raised up on his elbows. She was shaking against him and covering her face, but she couldn’t hide the truth.

Lucy was crying.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Lucy couldn’t stop the tears.

She tried. She fought them with every ounce of her will, but she couldn’t stop them. It was too much. Too many emotions battled inside her—relief, frustration, desire, anger, joy—churning in that dark confusion of her mind. And then in one bright moment, they were all swept away in a wave of exquisite pleasure. Followed by that flood, that same strange, powerful deluge she’d experienced the first time they’d made love. A roaring tide of emotion that surged from her heart and swept through her body—and this time, it overflowed.

Oh, and they were terrible, the tears. So wet and messy. So helpless and weak. No dainty, ladylike tears, these. No slow, trickling drops of emotion punctuated by a delicate sniff. Lucy’s eyes spilled buckets, and her nose ran. Her shoulders shook, and her chest heaved. She pressed her hands to her face, to no avail. There were eight years’ worth of tears inside her, and she’d been strong enough to store them away one sniffle at a time. But damming all of them at once—impossible.

“Lucy.” His voice sounded muffled, far away. “My God, Lucy. What is it?”

Even if she knew what to tell him, she couldn’t have managed to speak. She could scarcely catch her breath. Sobs racked her body, and hot tears spilled through her fingers, channeling down to her ears. He withdrew from her gently and rolled away, and she cried even harder, bereft of his warmth and strength. Feeling empty and hollow and cold. She curled away from him onto her side, hugging her knees to her chest.

“Don’t cry, Lucy. I can’t bear it.” His anguished whisper tore at her heart. Strong fingers smoothed her hair, but she shrank from his touch. And she hated herself for pulling away, but she couldn’t help it. She was too exposed, too raw, and even the most tender caress rasped against her skin. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’ll do anything. Don’t cry.”

He’d do anything, he said. But he’d already done too much. He’d made her love him so completely, the love would not be contained. He’d breached every last one of her defenses, and now there was nothing left to keep him out. Nothing left to hold back the tears.

And these tears, they were everything Lucy had tried so hard, for so long to avoid. Vulnerability. Helplessness. She couldn’t stop herself from crying any more than she could keep herself from loving him—and what he did, with the tears or the love, was completely beyond her control. She was down on the floor, curled into a ball, sobbing into her hands. Defenseless and weak and utterly at his mercy.