Secluded with the Rogue

Chapter 12

Twelve

C alvin tried not to think about the sunset’s bittersweet beauty. He adored these moments snuggled on the sofa with Belle in his arms, but the setting of the sun also signaled her imminent departure. Soon she would set down her barely touched glass of wine, they would kiss one last time, and then he’d unbutton her gown and say good-bye.

She wouldn’t need him in the morning. She might not be here in the morning. A footman had brought him the good news hours ago along with a hot bath: The snow had stopped. The roads were clear. Calvin and the other guests were trapped no more.

Huzzah.

It wasn’t that Calvin wished to avoid his trip to Cressmouth. He’d been waiting for an opportunity like this his entire life. Working toward it night and day, whilst he ate, in his sleep. He had tried so hard and so long. He had let nothing stand in his way. Success was close enough to taste.

So was Belle. He had tasted her lips countless times as the sun dipped behind the endless sea of snow-capped evergreens. He could not stop kissing her, no matter how he tried. Perhaps for a few seconds, a long moment, and then he would turn to her or she would turn to him or they would turn to each other at the same time, hungry for something far more filling than a candlelit dinner could provide.

She looked at him now and the familiar flutter tickled somewhere deep in his chest. He would never be used to the curve of her eyelashes, the rosy blush of cheeks kissed by the setting sun. He wished he could paint, so that he could capture her just like this; mussed and thoroughly kissed, and a mere heartbeat away from the next kiss.

They barely managed to set down their wine glasses on this surface or that before their mouths and bodies crashed together and they were back in each other’s arms. What allure could a sunset offer when he had Belle to hold? He adored her softness, her sweetness, although tonight her kisses were different. They had not been hesitant with one another since their first embrace, but these kisses were hungrier than before, naked, incendiary. This was no kiss good-bye. These were kisses that started a fire and stoked the flames higher.

She pulled her mouth from his but just barely, her lush lower lip brushing against his as she said, “I’m leaving in the morning. This is our last evening together. I want… I want to make it count.”

Ah. So, it was a kiss good-bye. But they would not be stopping there.

He slid his fingers deeper into her hair, kissed her until they both gasped for air. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want everything.” Her hot gaze did not waver from his. “I want you . Just for tonight.”

“Then you will have me.”

He scooped her into his arms to carry her into the bedchamber. For a second, he could not bear to allow her out of his embrace, if only to tumble to the center of his bed. How many times had he dreamt of having her exactly there? How was he supposed to walk away forever? How could one night ever be enough?

“Let me undress you,” he said gruffly, setting her beside the bed rather than on top of it.

She peered up at him with a half-smile. “One last time?”

“No.” He tried not to question why the words one last time chafed so much. “For the first time.”

He had unbuttoned her a dozen times, and buttoned her just as many. But for as familiar as the tips of his fingers were with the nape of her neck, the soft curve of her spine, unbuttoning was all that they had allowed themselves.

Until tonight.

His body tightened in anticipation as he freed each ivory pearl from its silken slit. This time, when he reached the final button, she would stay right here in his bed. He would uncover every inch of her soft flesh, thread by thread, and take her until they both came undone.

He lowered his mouth to her freshly exposed shoulder, pressing his lips to the hollow above her collarbone as he let the delicate gown slide down her curves to the floor in a whisper of fallen silk.

She did not try to catch the material as it fell, and instead turned to face him, the pulse at her neck fluttering.

She wore no stays, and he was glad of it. Her plump breasts were right there, nipples puckering invitingly beneath the gossamer linen of her chemise. He plundered her mouth as he cupped her breasts, enjoying their soft weight as he teased her pert nipples until she fumbled at his neckcloth, as if eager to do to him everything he was doing to her.

He let her rip off his cravat, his jacket, his waistcoat. Any other moment, he would have treated each item gingerly, keeping his bespoke clothing and her expensive gown carefully folded and safe on some wardrobe shelf far from the bed.

Tonight, he didn’t care if each seam ripped asunder. He would resew every stitch in the morning if he had to, or better yet, they’d spend the dawn naked, limbs tangled together beneath the sheets. Who needed clothes when they had a bed and a woman like Belle to share it?

No, not a woman like Belle. There was no one else he wanted in his arms. No one else he wanted in his life. A few stolen hours could never be enough. He would prove it to her kiss by kiss, lick by lick, stroke by stroke.

He yanked off his favorite cambric shirt, flinging it to a far corner. There was too much material still between them. He slid the soft linen of her shift up her thighs, over the curve of her hips, her waist, her breasts, and over her head. He tossed the flimsy chemise to the floor and lifted Belle up and into the center of the bed.

She was so beautiful, part of him could not bear to cover up her delectable body with his. So, he did not. He lay on his side beside her and dipped his mouth to her nipple.

With his hand, he explored the rest of her, not resting until his fingers slid to cup her slick heat. Her legs tensed about him for a brief second until his fingertip began a lazy pattern that soon had her hips bucking against his hand in quest for more.

Of course he would give it to her. He alternated teasing circles with shallow dips inside. She gripped his hair, clutching him tight to her bosom as if he could ever wish to be anywhere else. This was just the beginning.

Tonight was only the beginning.

He could not possibly be expected to walk away from...

Love.

The realization hit him as her breath quickened, and her body strained into his hand. He was in love, damn it all. And not in a position to give her more than the one night she asked for... yet.

He slid his hand from between her legs and she whimpered.

“Calvin...”

“Here I am.” He lowered himself until his tongue could take over for his hand. He needed to taste her, to feel her thighs tremble about him.

What if they could have this every night and every day? They needn’t wait until Fit for a Duke was delivered to every breakfast table in England.

As soon as his presentation was over and the duke’s investment safely transferred, Calvin could offer Belle a secure future in addition to passionate nights. He could not tell her his plans yet—only once his company was on solid footing would he have the means to sway her from one night of pleasure to all the rest of the nights; a lifetime of pleasure.

He would make himself a catch worthy of her. Then there would be no more need for good-byes.