Lady Alexandra's Lover (Sex and the Season 3)

He trembled. “Alexandra,” he said again.

“I love you, Evan,” she said, and sank her mouth onto his hardness.

“Ah, God…” His body stiffened.

His cock was warm against her tongue, the skin soft as velvet. He tasted of salt and cinnamon, with a touch of musk. Delicious. His low moans wafted to her ears, and she wanted more than anything to give him this. Though her nipples were tight and her loins aching, she only wanted his pleasure. Her own was unimportant, inconsequential.

She twirled her tongue around his cockhead, sucking and licking, his soft groans fueling her desire to please him. When his shaft was nicely lubricated, she grasped the base and moved her fist up and down along with her lips, finding his rhythm.

He jerked his hips and let out a small cry.

She pulled her mouth away. “No, my love. Don’t move. Your thigh can’t take it. Let me do the work. Please. I want to do this for you.”

He closed his eyes, and a tear squeezed out from one. Ally’s lips trembled as she descended onto his cock once again. Emotion overwhelmed her—love, tenderness, soul-wrenching desire to give him everything. She sucked him slowly, gripping him and moving with him, loving him in the most intimate way she could.

When the tiny convulsions started at the base of his cock, she took him deep, to the back of her throat, drinking in his seed as though it were the nectar of life.

“Alexandra…my God.”

She let his cock drop from her mouth and slid forward, kissing him, letting him taste his own essence on her tongue. He responded, sweetly returning her kiss, moaning into her mouth, grasping her upper arms.

Until he pushed her away, breaking the suction of their mouths with a loud smack.

“Damn it! I cannot!” He turned away from her.

She cupped his cheeks and forced his gaze back to her. “I love you, Evan, my dearest Evan. Please don’t turn me away.”

“Without trust, we have nothing.”

“I swear to you, I had nothing to do with your business printing the paper.” Tears streaked down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Alexandra.” Evan cleared his throat, his own tears pooling in his beautiful eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

Ally turned, her body nearly immobile. Sadness clogged her throat. She willed her muscles to move and left the bedchamber, closing the door quietly behind her.

She should be angry at Evan for not believing her, and she was, but she hadn’t proven herself the most trustworthy during the past weeks. Damn it! How could she have been so ignorant?

Who could be behind this?

Whoever it was would not cost her true love. She would find a way out of this mess.

* * *

After a good cry, she swallowed back her tears and raced downstairs to the first story of the townhome and into the office. No help. Most of Evan’s important papers would be in his office on the estate in Wiltshire. She had to get back there, but how? It would be easy enough to escape Evan, he being bedridden for the next few days, but the earl and her mother were due to come through London first before going home to the estate. And what of Sophie? Sophie would not let Ally out of her sight right now.

And she was tired of running. She had run off to London twice now and hadn’t gotten what she wanted either time. But she had found something so much more wonderful. She had fallen in love with Evan, and she would not let him go without a fight.

She riffled through the papers on the desk. If Evan owned a printing business, perhaps he owned other businesses. She knew precious little about the man she loved. She had thought he was a second son with nothing to his name. She should have known better. Evan was much smarter than that. He would have seen to his own financial well-being, just as she had tried to. Evan and Ally were cut from the same cloth. She warmed at the thought.

As much as she enjoyed it, Ally would no longer write for The Ruby. She couldn’t risk anyone she loved paying for her actions. Evan had been right. She had not used good judgment.

She sighed. Nothing on the desk. She would have to check the drawers and the cabinets. She would find something, even if it took her all day.

After nearly an hour of investigating, she stumbled upon the address of a printing house in London. Printing houses of the same name were located in both Bath and Edinburgh. She scribbled the London address on a piece of parchment and headed to the parlor to tell Sophie she would be leaving on an errand.

Before she left the office, she caught a glimpse of a corner of parchment sticking out from under the desk blotter. Curious, she removed it. She dropped her mouth open. It was a poem, written in Evan’s hand.

Her hair the color of roasted chestnuts, silky against my fingers,