Once a Wallflower, At Last His Love (Scandalous Seasons #6)(86)

He froze, his gaze locked upon her flushed skin, pink from his attention as she once more sucked him into her web of deception. His jaw tightened as he remembered just what she’d wanted of him.

She stared at him through thick, sooty lashes. “Sebastian?”

“Everything before this might have been a lie, Hermione, but this is real.” He moved his gaze over her face, both loving her and hating her all at the same time. “This is the most honest, real thing between us.” He inserted a knee between her thighs and settled himself between her legs. Sweat dotted his brow as he positioned himself against her center. Ah, he’d longed for this moment and hated he still craved her as he did. His shaft leapt in anticipation as he brushed the soft curls.

She dusted her knuckles along his jaw. “Not everything was a lie.” His heart filled with a desperate desire to believe the lies on her lips. “Part of it,” she whispered, shattering the fledgling hope he still carried. “But never how I felt about you, and—”

He’d not ruin this moment with the lies between them. “Hermione?” He reached between them and his fingers found her nub, eager and wet for him. She gasped.

“Yes, Sebastian?” she asked on a pleading moan.

With each breathless exhalation or word uttered, she drew him deeper and deeper into her snare. “Stop talking.”

She arched her hips in a primitive dance. “Th-that is h-horribly r-rude of you.” She let forth a keening cry.

“Stop talking, please,” he said hoarsely. For he feared if she didn’t, he’d never shake free of her hold. He rocked against the entrance of her womanhood and a groan rumbled up from his chest. His shaft throbbed with an exquisite ache at the scorching heat of her.

“V-very w-well,” she said, the most cooperative she’d been in the entire ten days he’d known her.

He stilled, running his gaze over her heated, arching body. Had it been but ten days? In ten days she’d upended his world, robbed him of his heart… A hiss escaped him under the weight of that revelation. Ah, God, he still loved her. Loved the woman he’d imagined her to be and now he merely made love to an empty shell of a dream he’d once carried in his heart.

“Sebastian?” The question emerged halting and tentative when Hermione was never anything but unabashedly bold.

He shook his head, concentrating on the pleasure he now knew in her arms, more pleasure than he’d ever known with any other woman. Reality could intrude its ugly head when their hearts no longer raced in time to the same frantic rhythm. For now, he knew nothing more than a hungering to claim her—at least in this primitive way of man. Sebastian slid himself inside her with an excruciating slowness. With a moan, her legs fell open, as she widened herself to his exploration. He paused when his shaft reached the thin barrier that marked her innocence. Beads of moisture formed on his brow from the exertion of holding back when all he wanted to do was thrust hard and fast into her hot, wet center.

Her lids fluttered open. “Make love to me.” She caressed his cheek. “I love you, Sebastian,” she whispered.

Her words, even as they were a lie, filled him with a hungering to claim her in every way. There would be time enough for reality later.

“Forgive me,” he groaned and with a flex of his hips, he thrust inside, shattering the thin barrier that had divided them. A spasm of pain contorted her face. Her cry was a silent one and all the more agonizing for it. He stroked his palms along the edge of her jaw. “Forgive me,” he repeated, the effort of not moving freely and laying full and total claim to her body the greatest chore he’d ever been tasked.

She scrunched up her mouth. “Th-this r-really isn’t a-any longer all th-that pleas…” Her words ended on a hiss as he began to slowly move inside her.

He claimed her lips in a quick kiss. “Isn’t all that what, love?” he asked, pumping his shaft in deep, languid strokes.

“Oh, dear, this is q-quite…” She arched her hips and met his increasing rhythm. The most delicious duel of two lovers. She flung her arms wide and grappled with the coverlet, fisting the fabric. Sebastian groaned, increasing his speed. Thrusting deeper. Harder. Faster. Then she stiffened. Her body trembled and her scream echoed off the walls as she slipped over the precipice. “I love you.”

Her words plunged him over the edge and he joined her amidst an explosion of white light. “Hermione,” he shouted, his voice hoarse, and then he collapsed atop her, spent, his heart racing.

She trailed her fingers up and down his back in a slow, soothing movement that forced his eyes closed.

He rolled off her and took in the gentle sheen of sweat that set her skin aglow. The pleased little smile upon her lips. His gut clenched as he acknowledged that for her betrayal…he still wanted her. Wanted to believe her words of love, wanted more than just the pleasure of her body. He closed his eyes.

What a bloody fool, I am.

A moment ago, he’d imagined there was no greater chore he’d undertaken than tempering his desire when all he’d wanted to do was thrust hard and fast inside his wife’s tight heat. He spared one more glance for his new bride. He’d been wrong. About so much where she was concerned.

Sebastian swung a leg over the edge of the bed and the mattress dipped with the shift of his weight. With swift, jerky moments, he stood and collected his garments. He pulled on first his shirt and then swiped his breeches off the floor. All the while he dressed, his wife studied him. Hermione caught his gaze and then quickly drew the sheet up, covering her naked body from his attention. She followed his every movement with wide eyes. He frowned and reached for his boots. It was a veritable sin to conceal such beauty. He pulled on the one.