Once Upon a Marquess (The Worth Saga 1)

Years from now, he wouldn’t brush her nose with his. He wouldn’t cup her face in his hand with that sweet tenderness. She wouldn’t feel her breath coming faster, wouldn’t feel her heart leap as his fingers brushed the edge of her bodice.

She wouldn’t feel the sweetness of his touch, wouldn’t taste the inevitability of their separation on his lips. She wouldn’t know the cycle of his breath.

In the years to come, she’d have only her memories. So she’d make those memories as robust as she could.

For now, she kissed him. She opened to him. He was like a radiant sun, spilling light in her life.

“You’ll see, Judith,” he murmured against her lips. “This is as it should be—you and I. We should never have given up on us.”

She couldn’t let him see her cry. He would stop kissing her, and she didn’t want him to stop. She leaned her head down, untucking the ends of his cravat.

“Judith. What are you doing?”

“What I wish,” she said. “Have you any objections?”

She let her hand slide down the linen of his shirt.

“None.” His eyes fluttered shut. “Absolutely none.”

“And this?” Her fingers reached the band of his trousers. Found the button holding it in place.

“Oh, God. Judith. I should say no.”

She halted.

“I won’t. I keep thinking of that night in the orchard. How much I would give to go back and do more, to never have to know these past years.”

“But then I wouldn’t know me,” Judith said. “I would not know what I was capable of doing. I wouldn’t trade me for anything.”

“I wouldn’t trade you, either. And I’ll have to convince you to keep me around.” He said this with a smile, as if it were a foregone conclusion that he had already won her over.

She undid a button. Her heart hurt. No; she wasn’t doing this just because she wanted to know what she would be missing. She wanted him to change her mind; she needed him to change her mind. God, if anyone could change the world with a kiss, it would be Christian.

“How do you think to convince me?”

He lifted her onto the sofa in her attic. “Here’s one idea.”

His hands slid her legs open, and he nestled between her thighs and licked her. He touched her so perfectly, so sweetly, she could have cried.

She did. “Oh, God.”

“Now you can see for yourself,” he said indistinctly, his tongue working against her. “What you have missed. How terrible it is. How impossible to endure.”

His hands pressed her thighs wider, opening her up. His fingers slid inside her. God, that felt so good, there, just right. His tongue continued, and then, there was a pressure, a growing pressure.

As if all she’d wanted from him was building up inside her.

“Oh,” she repeated. “Oh, God.”

He didn’t let up. He simply continued at the same leisurely pace. Nibbling her sensitive skin. Brushing his lips against her intimately, tasting her response with his tongue, until she wasn’t sure of anything—not him, not her own name—not a single thing except the inevitability of this moment. He brought her higher, until her breath stopped working. Until her muscles all tensed at once, and she burst into little sparks of pleasure.

This. This. This was what she hadn’t known, the pressure of his body against hers, the way he seemed to coax every last ounce of pleasure from her. The way he lifted his head in triumph with her last gasp, that self-satisfied silly grin on his face. The gentle caress of his hand on her hip.

He was hard again, almost impossibly so. She could feel his cock through layers of fabric, a heavy, solid weight against her thigh. He slid up her body to kiss her, and when she did she could taste herself on his tongue.

Her fingers found the button of his trousers again, circling round one. Undoing the first, then another. His hands undid the laces of her gown. For a brief moment, it felt as if she were drowning in fabric as he pulled her gown over her head.

Then he freed her.

His jacket was next, then her corset. They stripped each other bare, until his skin was warm against hers. Until his body pressed against hers, and he took her lips hungrily.

She could feel his member pressing against her, sliding as he cupped her face in his hands once more and kissed her deeply.

“We’d better stop,” he said softly. “We had better stop now, if we intend to leave anything for later.”

There could be no later. Judith shut her eyes. “No. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

His hands gripped her waist. “Judith. God. I want you so badly.”

She looked up into his eyes. “I want you, too. I have always wanted you.”

He bent his head and took her nipple in his mouth. She found herself gasping; she’d not known she could feel more pleasure after what had transpired.

But she could. His hand traced her hips. Very slowly, he notched his penis to the cleft between her legs. And, oh, God. There was even more. A stretching. A fullness. A togetherness. She was on the verge of tears.

He cupped her face with his hand.

“Sweetheart, is that…acceptable?”

“Yes.” She set her hands on his hips. “It’s very acceptable. It’s utterly lovely. I don’t want to stop accepting it.”

He grinned. “Well. Then.”

Her hands slid up his ribs to his chest, and he exhaled. He filled her; his body pressed against hers. This was what the wedding ceremony called two becoming one. In a sense, they were one. His body joined with hers. His mouth found hers. His breath escaped him and she inhaled it, turning Christian into Judith.

And yet she couldn’t give all of herself to him. If anything had ever kept them apart, it was that—that they could never quite give each other everything.

Even as she opened herself to him, even as he tasted her, kissing her mouth, her nipples, even as his hands gripped her hips and his breath came faster—even then, they were two separate people.

Separate needs.

Separate families.

“There,” he said. “There. I almost have you.”

And he did. He’d found that spot with his fingers, one that had her gasping and hoping, hoping, hoping that this wasn’t the end. Her second orgasm blazed up, so hot that it might have burned everything away. He made a noise deep in his throat and thrust hard against her, again, and then again.

And then it was done. For long minutes, they didn’t speak.

His chest heaved. A faint sheen of sweat covered his skin. She held him, not wanting to let go. Not yet.

But she couldn’t stop time, even if she’d wanted to do so. He pulled away eventually, and there was nothing between them, nothing at all. Nothing except the farewells they had not yet said.

Chapter Twenty-Four

After the shooting pleasure, after the little aftershocks had faded, after he’d pulled out and found a cloth and cleaned her up, Christian started to realize that not all was as it should be.

Judith wasn’t talking to him

He tried to take her in his arms, but there was something in her eyes when he did, something that was both sad and joyous all at once.

“I’m glad we did this,” she said.

So was he. And yet.

“Glad is such a tepid word.” He reached for her fingers. “I’m not glad¸ Judith.” Her palm lay passively against his. She didn’t precisely resist when he pulled her close. She just didn’t…participate.

What had felt so perfectly right mere minutes before now seemed subtly wrong. He could smell her. He could feel her skin bare against his. He belonged here, like this, with her.

So why did it not feel as if she belonged here with him?

Her eyes were open, staring at the ceiling.

“I’m a little overwhelmed,” he said again.

“As am I.” Her voice was low, and once again, it felt as if there were an unspoken and yet whispered after her words.

He waited, hoping he

was imagining it.

She inhaled. “I don’t know how I can walk away from this.”

He’d not been imagining that she was pulling away. “Don’t.” His hands closed around her. “Don’t. Stay forever, Judith.”

Her fingers flexed, her hands dug into his arm. Her grip wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it held him in place.

“I’m sorry,” she said instead. “I’m so, so sorry.”

That was when he understood that she hadn’t taken him to her bed to say yes to his proposal. She hadn’t even kissed him thinking that yes was a possibility. She’d done it to say farewell.

His throat felt tight; his lungs seemed to hurt. “Why?”

Don’t, he wanted to say. Don’t go. Whatever it is, don’t go.

She drew her knees close, wrapping her arms around them when she could have been wrapping herself around him. She didn’t look at him. “There is something I believe about marriage,” she finally said. “When you take a vow, you promise to honor and obey and—”

“You know it won’t be like that between us,” he said swiftly. “Whatever it is you think, we can fix it.”