For an hour, Damian watched her sleeping—just as enchanted as he was that magical night in the lodging-house. Then he drifted off into a peaceful slumber. The first he’d known in years.
* * *
Scarlett lay in Wycliff’s bed propped up on one elbow, the rumpled sheets wrapped around her legs as she watched her lovable rogue sleeping. She’d lost count of the times she had gazed upon him intently while he was oblivious to her lustful scrutiny.
But lust was not the only emotion she felt when in Damian Wycliff’s company.
Since the first time they parted, she had loved him a little.
Since reuniting, that beautiful seed of hope had sprouted roots.
Every day the sapling stretched towards the sun, optimistic yet still so fragile.
She placed her hand lightly on his chest. Touching him always brought comfort. Having him deep inside her body was akin to experiencing heaven on earth. Not once had her nightmares returned to haunt her. Not once had visions of Steele’s cruelty interrupted the beauty of the moment.
Where would it all end?
She had no notion.
But her experiences had taught her that life was just as delicate as the first buds of spring.
Wycliff stirred beside her. He stretched his body, his hand edging beneath the sheets to reposition his manhood. Her own sex pulsed at the thought of climbing on top of him and riding him as she had done last night. A frisson of doubt over his feelings for her prevented her from acting.
Oh, her body begged her to reconsider.
Still naked, she turned on her side to face the window. If Wycliff wanted to make love to her again, he would have to make his intentions clear. Excitement tickled her stomach when he stretched, sighed and exhaled a pleasurable hum.
Silence filled the room though she grew intensely aware of his breathing.
Remaining in the same position, she shuffled a little so he would know she was not deep in slumber. Her ploy worked, for he rolled onto his side behind her, pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder, pressed his erection against her buttocks.
She resisted the temptation to arch her back. She would have Wycliff work a little harder to seduce her. When he placed his warm hand on her hip, she released a small sigh. After all, he needed to know she was not opposed to joining with him again.
“Scarlett?” he whispered. “Are you awake?”
“Hmm,” came her drowsy reply.
The wicked hand on her hip ventured slowly north to cup her breast. The first brush of his finger over her nipple almost sent her shooting off the bed. Instead, she wiggled her hips against his erection, inviting him to slip between the gap in her thighs.
“You minx.” The huskiness of his voice conveyed the depth of his need. “You want me to make love to you, is that it?”
She arched her back in response, and he pushed into her body to fill her full.
Heaven.
The brief thought that he had not sought a French letter, that the scars on her back were so glaringly visible, left her mind the moment he withdrew to thrust inside her again. She could spend every morning like this—close to him, loving him.
This slow, sensual mating didn’t feel like the joining of bodies. It felt more like the joining of souls. She might have laughed at her own naivety—for women often confused lust with something more sentimental—but then Wycliff pressed his lips to the scars on her back, told her she was beautiful, and she fought the urge to cry.
Damian Wycliff did, indeed, have fingers that worked the devil’s magic. It took naught but his expert strokes to break her into a million sparkling pieces. A whimper escaped her when he withdrew suddenly, and she felt the hot, wet evidence of his climax on her buttocks.
He climbed out of bed almost immediately, yet she would have liked him to remain inside her even when soft and unable to perform.
“Don’t think that washing me now reduces your debt,” she teased when he returned with a cloth and spent far too long wiping her buttocks. “It doesn’t count when it is to our mutual advantage.”
“Then I suspect it will take me years to work off what I owe.”
If only she could believe that were true. “Years? You rarely remain in one place for longer than a few months. You must repay the debt before your next trip to France.”