She pressed a kiss to the center of his chest. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
He sat up, shirt rustling as he pulled it over his head. “So are you,” he whispered in return.
Beth scrambled from her nightgown and sat on the bed, waiting for Oliver to come back to her. When he did, they kissed each other as if they had all the time in the world. Slow, languorous kisses that sent chills racing everywhere. Beth ran her fingers over Oliver’s chest and arms, down his legs as far as she could reach, and back up. In the quiet of night, Oliver’s groan sounded very loud and needy.
His fingers threaded through her hair as they kissed, holding her to him. When she touched his length and stroked, he hissed against her lips. Beth kept her pressure light, teasing Oliver to greater heights of passion as she’d discovered he liked. His lips moved to her throat
, his hand to her breast, kneading her flesh and arousing a fever in her that would burn forever. She rose to her knees as she kissed his neck, his jaw, and finally his lips again. Their tongues tangled in an intimate dance, but she was determined to take charge tonight.
He shifted until he sat propped against the bedhead while Beth arranged herself above him, knees positioned on either side of his hips. Before she could grasp his length again, he pulled her against him and held her tightly. His skin burned.
“Elizabeth,” he growled quietly against her neck, hot breath scorching her skin. His teeth nipped and teased, heightening her desire. “My angel. My…” His words cut off abruptly as she brushed against him. “I need you.”
Beth held his mouth to her neck, fingers threaded through his hair, enjoying his passion and accepting that her love for him would never fade. “I’m here, Ollie. I’ve always been here.”
He lifted her suddenly and then lowered her onto his hard length. Instead of moving, Beth remained still. A sudden chill raced down her spine as she imagined a lifetime ahead without him inside her. She might go mad from wishing and imagining.
At Oliver’s prompting, Beth rose, sliding him from her body, and then fell again, bringing him deeper and dragging a groan from his lips. She quickly covered his mouth with her hand, eyes darting toward the door to her son’s bedchamber and then back. She lowered her hand as he pressed a kiss to her fingers.
In the faint light from the fire, she saw that he was smiling up at her. The expression was one Beth had longed to see all the days of her life. She set one hand to his chest, one to his shoulder, and rode him, letting her body have him the way she craved. She’d never been this demanding before, but Oliver appeared aroused by her boldness. His hands fluttered over her body, fingers brushing her peaked nipples before he squeezed them. He shifted to take one into his mouth, suckling firmly as she shuddered and moved on him.
Tension coiled up her spine as she brought Oliver deep into herself. The way he made her feel was incredible and when his fingers slipped between them she bit off a choked cry. Oliver’s hand pressed to her mouth gently, cutting off her moans for mercy. He teased her while she rode him, heightening her desires tenfold. His mouth returned to her breast and Beth held him there, threading her fingers into his gray locks so he could not leave her.
Beth bit her lip on the demand that almost followed that thought. She wanted to have this with him forever, even if it had to remain their secret. Sweat broke out over her body. Her release remained maddeningly out of reach. Oliver’s lips left her breast and he faced her. Beth continued to move but she couldn’t come. She just couldn’t let go of the moment and begin to lose him.
His head pressed to hers, his fingers stroked her clit with more gentleness, concentrating on drawing small circuits with his fingertips. His mouth hovered beside hers as she panted. “Let go, my angel. Let me hear and feel you be happy in my arms.”
His mouth sealed to hers as gooseflesh rose over her skin. Her body tensed, clamping around Oliver, and she sobbed against his mouth helplessly. He kept her close, smoothing her skin and playing with her long hair. When she relaxed, he rolled her onto the bed and withdrew from her body.
When he fell onto the other side, panting hard and making no attempt to find his own pleasure, she leaned into him.
He caught her hand again and raised it to his lips. His breath was a fast pant against her skin. “You are,” he mumbled as he kissed her knuckles, “the most breathtaking woman I have ever known or should ever want to make love to.”
Beth smiled at his compliment. They were so rare that she believed he meant every word. It didn’t prove that he might finally love her, but it was as close a confession that she was special to him as she might ever get.
When Beth ran her eyes over the lean flesh revealed by the flickering firelight, her daring grew. She reached out to touch him. He was still hard. Still unfulfilled. She tightened her grip about him and stroked. It didn’t take long before his muffled groans filled the room and his release splattered over his chest.
He rose to use the washbasin and returned quickly, pulling Beth back firmly against his chest and wrapping her tightly in his arms. She smiled as contentment washed over her. One last night. One last embrace. One last confession. She closed her eyes to memorize the moment. Oliver sighed and his arms grew heavy.
“I love you, Oliver,” she whispered softly, daring to believe he might want to know how much she cared.
Beth waited for a response. He didn’t move. His breathing was even and deep as if he was already asleep in her bed. She eased out from under his arm to look at him. Oliver stirred, legs moving restlessly, and then grew still.
Beth lay back against the pillows as disappointment filled her. She’d finally dredged up the courage to reveal her deepest affections and Oliver wasn’t even awake to hear. She angrily wiped at the tears pooling in her eyes and thumped the mattress with her fist.
Oliver sat up. “What is it, my love?”
Beth’s throat tightened at the endearment he used. “It’s nothing.”
“Good.” He pulled her back into his arms and instead of being angry anymore, Beth smiled. He might have missed her declaration of love but, sleepily said or not, she hadn’t missed his. Oliver always spoke true of his heart.
Chapter Twenty-Three
THE DAY OF OLIVER’S departure dawned clear and bright and he was glad to be going. Restlessness had seized him from the moment he’d woken in Elizabeth’s rumpled bed some hours ago as the first of dawn had lighted the horizon. At first he’d watched her sleep, counting her breaths and the little sounds she made as she moved. Most often though she had been so still and content that he feared waking her at any moment.
Impulsively, he’d pressed a kiss to her hair, her shoulder, and the upper swell of her perfect breast as he considered whether he could make love to her one more time before leaving. But he came to his senses quickly—the boy and a great many others in the house were early risers. He didn’t want to be caught and embarrass Elizabeth. So he had crept out of her bed before she’d awakened, closing the door on a chapter of his life that would always remain a mystery but very dear to him.
It was time to go. Oliver threw one last book into his satchel and fastened the buckles. “This is the last.”