Lady Sophia's Lover (Bow Street Runners #2)(87)

“No.”

“Then when are you going to trust me?”

“I do trust you,” she said hoarsely. “But the fear of losing you was more than I could bear.”

“The only way you could lose me is by lying to me again.”

She blinked, and her heart drummed furiously in her chest. Something in his words implied… “Is it too late?” she managed to ask. “Have I already lost you?”

Ross looked grim, his mouth twisting. “I’m here,” he pointed out sardonically.

Her lips shook until she could hardly form words. “If you still want me, I-I promise never to lie to you again.”

“That would be a pleasant change,” he told her Curtly.

“And… I will keep no secrets from you.”

“Also a good idea.”

Wild hope flooded her as she realized that he was willing to give her another chance. Furious, but willing. And there could only be one reason that he would put himself at such risk.

Carefully she approached her husband, the room darkening as the buildings and spires of London fractured the falling sunlight. She put her hands on his chest, gently covering the violent thud of his heart. He stiffened but did not pull away. “Thank you, Ross,” she whispered.

“For what?” he returned, stone-faced.

“For loving me.” She felt his heart lurch at the words, and she realized that until this moment, Ross had not acknowledged his feelings for her, even to himself. He had not wanted to put a name to the emotion. Holding his stare, she saw the blaze of resentment in his eyes… and the smoldering need he could not conceal.

She could think of only one way to dispel his anger, to reassure him and soothe his aggravated pride.

Sophia’s sapphire eyes were grave as she reached up to Ross’s neck, her fingers working at the knot of his cravat. She concentrated on the task as if it were of momentous importance. The knot loosened, and she drew the length of dark, warm silk from his throat. Ross’s body was as rigid as carved marble, his thoughts in a welter. Surely she did not think that a romp in bed would solve anything. But the deliberateness of her actions indicated that she was trying to demonstrate something.

She undressed him slowly, removing his coat, waistcoat, and shirt, then kneeling to unbuckle his shoes. “Sophia,” he said tersely.

“Let me,” she whispered. Standing, she brushed her fingertips over the matted curls on his chest. Her fingers delved lightly into the black hair, sifted through it, stroked the hot skin beneath. Her thumbs found his ni**les, circled delicately, bringing them to hard points. Leaning closer, she flicked her tongue over the dark circle until the nipple was slick and sensitive. He could not restrain a primitive grunt as her hand slid to the stiff bulge of his erection, tracing it slowly.

She glanced at his face then. “Are you sorry for loving me?” she whispered.

“No,” he said gruffly. Somehow he managed to hold still as her slim fingers dipped inside the waist of his trousers.

“I want you to know something,” Sophia said. The first button popped free, revealing the swollen head of his sex. Her fingers stole to the next button. “I am more in your power, Ross, than you could ever be in mine. I love you.” A quiver ran through him at the words. “I love you,” she repeated deliberately, plucking at the fourth button.

She continued down the row until his trousers were wide open and his erection was unhindered. Grasping him carefully in both hands, she stroked up and down the hard shaft. She wet her finger in her mouth, then stroked a moist circle around the taut purple crown. The muscles of his thighs stiffened, and he breathed in harsh pants as passion ignited and roared through his body. Sophia’s head lowered until it hovered just above the rearing length of him. “Enough,” Ross choked. “Christ, I can’t—”

“Tell me what to do,” she said, the words blowing against him.

Whatever sanity Ross had left promptly burned to cinders. He gasped out instructions, his hands trembling as he clasped her head. “Use your tongue on the tip… yes… now take as much as you can in your… oh, God…”

Sophia’s fervor more than made up for her lack of experience. She did things that Eleanor would never have tried, tugging at his aching flesh, her velvety tongue swirling and lapping. Ross sank to his knees and pulled at her clothes, tearing them, and she gave a breathless laugh at his roughness. His mouth caught greedily at hers, while she wriggled to help him strip the shredded gown down her legs.

A primal sound of satisfaction escaped him when Sophia’s na**d body was finally revealed. He lifted her to the bed, pausing only to remove his trousers before he joined her. Eagerly she slid between his legs and took his sex into her mouth once more, resisting his efforts to bring her face up to his. Groaning repeatedly, he surrendered to her ministrations, his fingers tangling in the long locks of her hair. However, he was not satisfied for long—he wanted more, he craved the taste of her. Impatiently he seized her hips, maneuvering her until she was positioned at his mouth. He buried his face amid the intimate curls, his hands gripping her thighs as she jerked with surprise.

He searched her with his tongue, licking deeply into the seam of moist folds. Avidly he hunted for the tiny engorged peak where her pleasure was concentrated. Finding it, he nibbled, stroked, darted his tongue at it, as he felt her stiffen in approaching cl**ax. He backed off, gentling, while she moaned pleadingly around his cock. Twice more he brought her to the edge, making her suffer, tormenting until she responded with desperate tugs of her mouth.