Secluded with the Rogue

Chapter 13

Thirteen

B elle pressed her knuckles to her lips to contain the gasps of pleasure coming from her mouth, but it was no use. Her arms fell bonelessly to her sides, her head lolling helplessly into his pillow. Calvin knelt between her thighs, his mouth and tongue feasting on her in ways she’d never known possible.

She was no stranger to the delicious pressure building inside her. Her fingers had found this spot before, had brought her to the edge and over, but never like this. She felt splayed open and worshipped, vulnerable and powerful.

He could do anything at all, and she would let him, would beg him not to stop. But all he wanted was to bring her pleasure. To devour her until she could no longer think, no longer feel the soft pillow or the woolen blanket or the cool air against her bared limbs because nothing else existed but his tongue and his fingers and the building, building pressure. Yes, right there, exactly like that, she was going to?—

She fractured into a thousand pieces, her muscles convulsing, her legs trapping him to her, then falling limp to his shoulders. She should be sated. She was sated. But her body was greedy and wanted more, wanted him . She wanted everything. Even if all they could have was one last stolen moment.

Especially because all they had was tonight.

She could count their remaining hours on her fingertips. It was not enough, but it would have to be. She would make it so. Tomorrow he would pursue his dreams and she would return to obedience and duty, but in this precise moment they still had each other, and she was far from ready to let him go.

She reached for him to pull him to her, but he would not be rushed. He pressed lazy, openmouthed kisses to the crease of her thigh, to the curve of her hip, to the dip at her waist, to the valley between her breasts, to the peak of her nipple.

Only when she could feel the pressure rising within her once more did she realize his hand was between her legs, teasing her with sensual promises the same way his mouth and teeth and tongue did to her breasts and nipples. She wanted more. She wanted it all.

When she could feel herself rising close to the crest again, she tugged him to her. “Calvin— I want?—”

He needed no explanation. His eyes glowed in the moonlight; his body hotter than any fire. He eased himself from her just long enough to cast his trousers off the edge of the bed and then he was back, hotter than before, harder, bigger. He positioned himself at her entrance, the hard, pulsing length of him rubbing where his fingers and tongue had been, making the same wicked promise.

She was through with promises. She wanted action; she wanted life. She wanted it to be him .

His mouth was hot on hers, but he broke the kiss long enough to say, “Are you certain?”

Her heart clanged as she nodded.

That was sweet of him, to ask. He thought her a worldly widow, and nonetheless wanted to be sure she?—

He drove inside with one long thrust and Belle could not keep her cry of pain and surprise trapped inside her throat.

He froze at once, his face filled with alarm. “Am I... Are you...”

“I’m fine,” she managed, and it was almost true. Already the initial pain was a dull ache, leaving her instead with a not unpleasant sensation of fullness and promise. “It’s just... It’s been a while since...”

A long while like never , but she didn’t want him to stop now. She didn’t want to explain herself, didn’t want the guilt, the recriminations, the weight of who she was supposed to be and what sort of man she was and was not supposed to want.

She didn’t want any regrets at all, because for her there would not be any. There was no one else she would rather lie with, no one else worth saving herself for. All other men would have to live up to him , not the other way round. And she would forever find them lacking. No one could ever replace Calvin.

He began to move, slowly, carefully, eyes open and fixed on hers.

He need not worry. The only ache left now was the one he’d built with his mouth and fingers. A swirling, rising, pressure that stoked higher with every stroke. Her hips found the rhythm, and she wrapped her legs about him to meet him again and again, intermingling deep and slow with fast and hungry. Their kisses were just as ravenous.

Oh, how were they ever meant to limit themselves to just one night? She wanted all his nights, all his days, in his bedchamber and out. She wanted to breathe in the same air, feel the same sun on her skin, share the same meals. She wanted to wake up every morning in his arms and return to bed every night just like this, their bodies joined together, their hands and mouths insatiable for each other.

There didn’t exist a number of nights that could ever be enough. No quantity of days or months or years could extinguish the impression he had made in her heart, a mold that only he could fit.

Here came the crest again—this time, he would ride it with her. She gripped him close, their kisses punctuated by gasps as her muscles contracted around him. At the last pulse, he jerked his hips from hers as his seed spilled hot against her thigh.

He rolled onto his back, taking her with him, away from the wet proof of their lovemaking and into his warm, solid embrace. He held her close, his breathing as labored as hers, his heartbeat just as thunderous.

He pressed a kiss to her hair, then lay his cheek against the spot he’d kissed and cradled her close. She had never felt so precious, so cherished. She did not trust herself to speak, lest she say words that must forever remain unspoken.

Despite her very best efforts, she loved him, would always love him. That it was forbidden did not dampen her ardor. He was in her arms, inside her body, and still she longed for more. For forever.

She couldn’t keep him, of course she knew that. Her family would be apoplectic at the very idea. Her reputation! The family’s good name! Nor would she put Calvin through the hell the Nottingvale family would rain down upon him for daring to steal a kiss, much less her heart. It would be the end of Calvin’s dreams, not the beginning of a new life. The best thing she could do for him, for them both, was walk away and never look back.

But not until morning. She would not allow the fate of their births to steal a single extra moment.

She awoke in his arms, the pink light of dawn caressing them both.

His heartbeat was slow and steady, his muscular form warm and familiar. She wanted to wake him up and make love all over again, to carry the secret ache between her legs with her when she left, like a brand marking her as his.

But she was not his, and they were out of time.

Dawn meant Ursula would awaken at any moment, and hurry upstairs to help her mistress into her carriage dress for the journey ahead. Belle could not allow her maid to arrive and find the chamber empty. They had to leave without raising any eyebrows at all.

She slipped from Calvin’s arms and padded about the room as quietly as possible, retying her stockings, slipping on her chemise, struggling with the gown she’d worn in the hopes of dazzling him into bed.

“Come here.” His voice was gruff, indulgent.

She whirled to face him, her cheeks heating. How long had he been watching her? Was it possible he had not been sleeping at all, but just lying there, holding her to his chest in silence as the sun poked above the evergreens?

She presented him with her spine as she’d done every morning and every evening since her arrival, but this time on shaking legs. She could not be near him without wanting to kiss him, to press her body into his, to fall back onto the mattress and forget whatever it was the sunrise wished to demand of her.

When the last button slipped into place, she stepped away from him rather than into his embrace. It was time to say good-bye. The distance between them would soon be insurmountable.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “For everything.”

He frowned and rose from the edge of the bed. His lack of clothing did not make him look naked, but rather more powerful, more dangerous. Irresistible.

She would have to be strong.

“It’s morning,” she babbled. “I have to go.”

“Do you?” He was suddenly right before her, touching his thumb to her cheekbone.

She swallowed. “My maid will arrive soon. I must... I must go.”

“Will you be back for breakfast? You can bring Ursula.” His finger traced the outer shell of her ear. “I promise not to ravish you until the next time we’re alone.”

She took a deep breath. “There won’t be a next time. This is good-bye.”

“For now,” he agreed, and took her hands in his. “Belle?—”

She closed her eyes. “Don’t say it.”

“I’m not in a position to offer marriage?—”

She opened her eyes, sagging in relief.

“—but I will be soon,” he continued, his gaze earnest and unwavering. “Thanks to all your help, I know our presentation will be a success. Once we’ve secured the Duke of Nottingvale’s investment and endorsement, Fit for a Duke can provide?—”

“No,” she said. “I mean, yes. Fit for a Duke will be a smashing success and so will you. But I cannot be part?—”

“You won’t be part , Belle.” His eyes were fierce, but his thumbs tender against the backs of her trembling hands. “You’re everything. Once the company is stable, it won’t require much of my time. If you don’t like my cottage, I’ll be able to afford a bigger one, with a parlor dedicated exclusively to your art, or whatever it is that would please you most. I don’t just want to provide for you. I want us to?—”

It sounded lovely.

It was impossible.

“No. I...” She shook her head. “You don’t understand. It’s not just me, it’s...”

“Oh.” He cupped her cheek. “I’ve been insensitive. Forgive me. I’m not trying to replace your first husband, Belle. Your memories with him?—”

“Stop,” she choked out. This could not go on any longer.

He was proposing to a better version of herself than even existed. There was absolutely no reason at all for Mrs. Lépine not to leap into his arms with eager acceptance. He was everything she could want in a husband, first or second or otherwise.

But she was not Mrs. Lépine. She was the daughter of a duke, the sister of a duke, the despair of the current duchess of Nottingvale.

She would hurt Calvin more by keeping up the charade of being an independent widow who could make choices on her own without having to consider their impact on a centuries-long dynasty. Mrs. Lépine was free to say yes, which would make her no sting all the worse.

Belle was not free. She had never been free. And now she’d gone too far. It was past time to be honest with him. Once he knew the truth, he would no longer want her. She had a talent for disappointing the people she loved most.

“I know I am not the finest catch at the moment. But as soon as I can give you the life you deserve, I want to be the man who does it.” His thumb caressed her cheek. “Will you think about it?”

Belle would think about this moment for the rest of her life. She took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Calvin... there’s something you should know.”