Someone to Watch Over Me (Bow Street Runners #1)(51)

There was pressure against the tender opening of her body, causing a slight burn of discomfort. Stiffening in reaction, Vivien felt the weight of his body settle a little harder over hers, and the blunt force increased. Before she could protest or wriggle away, he made a sound low in his throat and pushed forward in a strong thrust. Vivien's breath stopped as she experienced a kind of pain she had never felt before--she was certain of it. No woman could feel it and not remember. Her hands spasmed against his chest, and she tried to push him away, but he pushed again. Suddenly he was inside her, his massive length buried deep and hard.

Through a shimmer of bewildered tears, she caught a glimpse of his stunned face. "Vivien, be still," he said harshly, but she struggled and twisted, pinned helplessly beneath him.

Astonished by the tightness of the flesh that surrounded him, her obvious pain, and the inevitable conclusion his brain was reaching, Grant moved automatically to subdue her, and prevent her further discomfort.

"You're hurting me," she gasped.

Holding her tightly, he murmured soothing words against her ear, that he loved her, he would take care of her, he would take the pain away if she would let him. Gradually she relaxed and clung to him, her nails digging into the tough muscles of his back. Still joined with her, he slid his hand down her body. His thumb eased into the damp patch of red hair, coming to rest lightly on the sensitive peak hidden amid the fiery curls. He circled it slowly, teasing a response from her trembling body.

Moaning, she lifted her h*ps into the caress, and he knew that her discomfort was fading. He continued to tease and stroke her, and at the same time, he moved inside her with a deep, gentle nudge. Vivien cried out, her body instinctively tilting to receive him, her hands working restlessly over his back. He began a slow rhythm, adjusting himself to please her, his entire being focused on the delight of thrusting within her. She cl**axed with startling swiftness, her body clenching tight around him, her limbs quaking with surprise. As he held himself inside her, Grant experienced a release more powerful than anything he had experienced in his life. He groaned and buried his face against the curve of her shoulder, his groin pumping, his pulse hammering, his body flooded with luxury.

In the heavy silence that followed, Grant withdrew from Vivien carefully and found a tell-tale sign that defied all logic. Perplexed, remorseful, furious at himself, Grant faced a fact he would never have believed without physical proof.

She was--or had been until this moment--a virgin.

Staring into Vivien's dazed face, Grant shook his head incredulously. She fumbled for the sheet and pulled it over herself, returning his gaze with a mixture of confusion and suspense. He rested his hand on the shape of her hip, and though she flinched, she did not push him away.

"Why did it hurt like that?" she asked scratchily.

He did not answer immediately, his mind occupied with a slew of questions. "Because you were a virgin," he finally said.

"But...I couldn't have been. I...I'm Vivien Duvall...am I not? You told me..." She stopped speaking, staring up at him with amazement.

"Christ," he muttered to himself, trying to understand how he could have made an error of such magnitude. "You can't be Vivien."

"What if I am? What if you and everyone else was wrong about me? What if--"

"There is no chance in hell that Vivien Duvall could be a virgin," he said, staring at her as if he had never seen her before. "It's impossible. Physically you're an exact match...but you're not Vivien."

"But how could I could resemble her exactly unless she and I were somehow related...perhaps even..." She fell silent as another thought occurred to her.

"A twin?" he finished for her, his face grim. "Given your physical appearance, that's entirely likely. Though no one even hinted at the possibility that Vivien had a sister, much less an identical twin."

"Are you certain I'm not Vivien?" she asked in a stricken whisper. "The things you said about me...the men I slept with...the things in that diary...That wasn't me?"

"That wasn't you," he said quietly.

She shocked him by bursting into tears, her hands jerking up to her face, glittering rivulets leaking out from between her fingers. Grant hauled her into his arms, crushing her against his bare chest. The feel of her tears on his skin caused him to ache with painful remorse. He cursed and did his best to comfort her.

"I'm sorry for this damned mess," he muttered. "I can't give you back your innocence. I've hurt you unforgivably."

"No, no," she sobbed against his shoulder. "I-I'm not c-crying about that. I'm just s-so relieved that I'm not Vivien, and yet..." She tried to hold back another sob, but it broke free with renewed force. "I thought I knew who I was, a-and there was some comfort in that, even if I couldn't remember anything. And now..." She sniffled and choked on a fresh onslaught of tears. "Who am I? I can't stand not knowing any longer. I feel so..." Her sobs made further speech impossible.

Grant held her as she cried, feeling guiltier and more remorseful with each second that passed. "I'll find out," he said gruffly. "I swear I will. Dammit...don't cry anymore. Please."

Stroking the wild mass of her hair, he wondered who the hell she was, and how she had come to be in Vivien's place. And why had no one been searching for her? Somewhere there must be a family, friends, someone who was worried by her absence. It was even possible she had been betrothed. Someone with her youth and beauty would not be unspoken-for. The thought rattled him even more.