His hand stilled on her cheek. His breath suspended. “And what about a respectable marriage? A family?”
“I will leave those for another day.”
“But—”
“If ever I find someone who I want more than you, then he shall have to take all of me. Including my past.”
She could see the desire in his eyes. She felt the hunger in his body or perhaps that was the need pounding in her own. She drew her hand to his face, mirroring the way he held her. He pulled it to his lips and pressed kisses against her fingers.
“I am trying to honor you, Lilah. I am trying to think about the proper order of things—”
“For once, Aaron, trust me to think about my needs. Trust me to know that you are worth it.” And with that she stretched up on her toes and pressed her mouth to his. She felt his iron control crumble with every second they touched. Soon his mouth opened, his body seemed to swell around her, and suddenly she was lifted into the air.
He carried her straight up the stairs to his bedroom. And finally, gloriously, she got exactly what she wanted.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Aaron didn’t knowthe exact moment when he decided to marry Lilah. The idea had been growing on him for a while now. Every night when he left her side to sleep alone in his club had him staring into the darkness thinking about his choices. Had he indeed closed off his heart out of fear? Had his daily struggle tonotrepeat his father’s mistakes turned him hard and mean? He didn’t think so. At least not yet because whenever he looked at Lilah, everything in him softened. It felt like his pulverized heart sought comfort in her, and the rest of him wanted to comfort her.
He was dazzled by her, and so for good or for ill, he would marry her. He’d been trying to determine the best way to ask for her hand when she turned it all around on him. It befuddled his mind, and so he lost the proper order of things and saw, as usual, only her and what she wanted. He swooped her up in his arms and carried her upstairs. She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him while he was maneuvering his way down the hall to his bed. He had French letters there. Whatever happened between them tonight, he would protect her from pregnancy. He could do that much at least. Until after the vows were spoken.
He’d barely made it through his bedroom door when she captured his face with her hands and drew him down for a kiss. She demanded in a way that made his blood surge. His arms tightened around her and if he could have made love to her while standing right there, he would have. But even he had limits. He stumbled forward, grateful when his legs knocked against the edge of the bed. He broke the kiss and was gratified to hear how she gulped in breaths. He, too, was struggling. The scent of her made his head spin and yet he pressed his nose against the curve of her neck and inhaled her deep into his lungs.
“I can think of nothing but you. Day and night, I dream of you.”
She lifted her chin such that they were eye to eye. “Are you turning poetic, my lord?”
“No,” he said with complete honestly. “I’m stating a fact. You’ve consumed me.”
She smiled, her expression mischievous. “Not yet, I haven’t.” She abruptly nipped the edge of his jaw. He felt the scrape of her teeth against his evening beard, and the hunger inside him surged to a maddening degree.
It took all his concentration to lower her gently onto his bed while she nibbled across his chin until she could claim his mouth again. Then she was gloriously settled, and he could finally use his hands for more than supporting her weight. He let them trail over her body, spanning the narrowness of her waist, cupping the wonder of her breasts, and then—most specifically—to the buttons that held her gown together. She was equally enthusiastic with the buttons of his waistcoat.
Very soon their hands were tangled together as they tugged and pushed at each other’s clothing. She began to giggle as she tried to push off his jacket and waistcoat at the same moment. It didn’t work, especially as he was just then trying to release the ties of her stays without removing her dress first. His chuckle came next as he tried to fondle her breasts that were somehow smashed between the sides of her dress and the press of whalebone.
“Good God,” he huffed. “I want to tear this thing off you—”
“But I haven’t the strength,” she finished for him.
He had the strength, but not the willingness to destroy something of hers. He rocked back on his heels, forcing himself to stop touching her long enough to strip out of his clothing. She did the same, sitting up as she pushed aside her gown and unbound the ties of her stays. Then while he was pulling off his linen shirt, she wriggled out of her dress while he watched her breasts sway beneath her shift.
“Stop,” he rasped.
She looked up. “What?”
He helped her toss aside her dress, but then he touched her face. Her skin was flushed rosy and her lips were a moist temptation, but he held back from tasting them. Instead, he let his hands flow upward into her hair, pulling out the pins one by one until her hair tumbled down her shoulders and back.
He felt her sigh as a shudder of relief flowed through her body. He pressed his fingers to her temple and then along her scalp as she arched into his touch.
“That feels so good,” she murmured.
She looked good as her head dropped back into his supporting hands and her neck stretched out in beautiful display. He’d always thought a woman’s neck as sensuous. Smooth skin, delicate arch, and the way she moved it told him if she was stressed or anxious or relaxing into something more. And she was definitely relaxing into his embrace.
“Don’t stop,” she murmured.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
She opened her eyes in a slow flutter. “I have wanted you since I first saw you as Lord Ares, but I don’t think I fell in love with you until we went to the Lyon’s Den.”