The Rogue’s Christmas Gift (Wicked Widows League #24)

Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

I t was difficult for Kitty to pretend that Harrison hadn’t changed the trajectory of her heart and mind. Lying beside him in the countess’s suite of rooms, enclosed in his embrace, their naked bodies exhausted from their second bout of lovemaking—it all was strangely comfortable.

Safe.

Kitty kept trying to tell herself that it didn’t matter, that it was only sex, a means for her to forget the injustice that had occurred earlier. Her magnificent Pleasure House was no longer hers, it hadn’t mattered that it was she who had rallied after Jacques’s untimely demise to make sure she did not lose her home or business. She had been the one who had tirelessly groomed and toiled with workers building the image and reputation of Pleasure House.

None of it had mattered at the end. All Pierre had to do was invent a ludicrous tale of loaning Jacques the funds and he was able to take everything that she had built in a single day.

Damn it all to hell.

Closing her eyes, she snuggled close to Harrison, deciding not to think about her predicament or the fact that she had just made love to the father of her child. A child he still was not aware ever existed. No matter how briefly Christopher was a part of this world, Harrison had a right to know that he’d had a son.

For years, she had struggled with herself, believing that it was her lot in life to feel such devastation. The last thing Kitty wanted was for Harrison to experience it as well. As the years went by, she’d convinced herself that perhaps it was better if he didn’t know about Christopher. Harrison was the most amenable person, happy and pleasant no matter the situation—until she broke his heart.

“Remember our last Christmas together?” Harrison asked.

His smooth voice cascaded over her spent body, making Kitty forget the dilemma raging on in her mind.

A giggle bubbled out of her, and she couldn’t really remember the last time she’d made such a sound. How odd that she’d spent so many years being Madame Delcour, caring for everyone, that she’d forgotten what it felt like to be Katherine Smith.

She hadn’t been that young girl in such a long time, but being with Harrison made her remember that she’d quite enjoyed who she’d been before everything fell apart.

“How could I forget? Our parents were gloriously foxed, and my sister was away with the Fosters.” A sharp pang punctured her abdomen at the mention of her sister, Daphne.

She hadn’t seen her younger sister in eight years. There was a four-year age difference between them. Often Daphne would insist on following Kitty everywhere, so enamored with her older sister. Once Kitty had been ruined, she’d received one letter from her sister stating that she was no longer allowed to correspond with her.

Before her uncle moved to Italy with his wife, he’d informed Kitty that her sister had married a farmer in Nottingham.

“I convinced Cook to make us a picnic. My God, I still dream about her cottage pie,” he said wistfully, tightening his grip around Kitty’s waist. “We disappeared to the barn, where we fed each other, and made love until early in the morning.”

Kitty closed her eyes, willing the tears not to fall. She remembered the night with perfect clarity. It was the night that Christopher was conceived.

Kitty had come to that conclusion after months of retrospect, replaying every intimate encounter between her and Harrison over and over in her head. Before that fateful night it had been months earlier since they’d lain together.

Swallowing, Kitty centered herself before she spoke. “I see you didn’t decorate for Christmas.”

Like her, he’d loved that time of year. Every momentous day would be celebrated, their favorite day being Christmas.

“No, I wasn’t feeling the spirit,” he whispered, nuzzling at her ear.

She shivered, her nipples hardening, sex aching in need. After not being intimate with anyone for years, Kitty suddenly felt ravenous.

Being intimate with Jacques was a necessity after they married. He was an accomplished lover and Kitty wanted more than anything to fall in love with the man who had chosen to save her from ruin. However, his appetite would never be satisfied with just one lover for the rest of his life. Although she was young, Kitty had never been a fool. She was well aware of disease and sickness. She would not willingly risk herself or unborn child for Jacques or anyone.

“Because of me?” she asked, turning around in his arms.

Kitty was aware that her refusing his latest marriage proposal had severed them permanently.

He shook his head. “I couldn’t decorate this year. I haven’t decorated in years.” His fingers wrapped around the back of her neck.

“Why?” Kat whispered needing to hear the truth.

She had learned long ago that he hadn’t abandoned her when she needed him most. It was difficult hearing it from his mother out in the open on Bond Street.

The woman had actually boasted about how wise her husband had been to lock his son up and keep them away from each other. It had worked beautifully. Kitty, in her desperation and despair, followed the wisdom of her uncle and accepted his friend’s hand.

Jacques would receive a beautiful wife from an excellent family, one who would run his business while he gallivanted around with different women. It was an ideal arrangement for everyone, but that one decision altered Kitty’s life forever.

Green eyes darkened and his brow furrowed in thought as it did when he turned deathly serious. “Because every time I lose you, a piece of me dies and I’m unable to enjoy anything that was a part of us.” He pressed his head to her forehead, his warm breath cascading over her lips.

She allowed the tears to fall. His words penetrated a locked portion of her heart. “Harrison, you didn’t lose me. I’m right here.” The words choked out of her, her fingers caressing his cheek.

“F-for how long, Kat?” The pain in his voice broke her heart.

Did it not matter that she was there now, in his arms of her own volition?

His words splashed over Kitty like he’d thrown her into the Thames.

Kitty wasn’t purposely being cruel. She had her reasons for rejecting his proposal.

Society would never accept her—she was Madame Kitty Delcour, after all. If she married, everything that was hers would belong to him—not that she did not trust Harrison implicitly.

Kitty’s independence, her memory of Christopher, it was all she had left in the world, and she couldn’t help but to cling to it with her bare hands.

“I can’t abandon Pleasure House.” She released him, sitting up in the bed.

It didn’t matter that she was completely naked. The only thing that mattered was that she protected the people who depended on her. No matter how much it would cost her to leave him and the mirage they had created.

Harrison sat up, dragging her to him. “I would never ask you to abandon your life’s work.” His large hands cupped her face gently. “If I demanded that of you, I know which answer you would choose. I don’t want you by default. Choose me because you want to be with me as your equal in all things and you would be my equal as you have always been.”

“Harrison,” she shook her head, tears falling freely. “You don’t know me anymore. I’m no longer the girl you fell in love with.” She looked away, afraid if she stared into his eyes, she would see Christopher staring back at her. “I have secrets.”

He turned her to face him gently. The fire blazing in his eyes matching the red of his hair. “I don’t give a damn about your secrets. Give them to me and I’ll carry them as my own.” The tears in his eyes threatened to free her completely from a prison of her own making. “I love you, Kat, and I’ll love you until the day I die.” The kiss he placed on her lips was soft, and she wanted more. “Whether or not you marry me.”

Unable to speak, she kissed him again, bringing his body over hers as she settled against the elaborate array of pillows.

He loved her? Still? After all this time?

Renewed hope filled her. It was difficult for Kitty to believe that Harrison still had feelings for her after the horrid way she’d behaved.

But this was Harrison, and he’d been nothing but honest with her since the moment they’d met.

His hands roamed her body, lighting a fire everywhere his skin touched. Scraping her nails down his back, she silently urged him to take her.

Forgetting everything but that moment with him, Kitty welcomed him into the alcove of her thighs. His tongue trailing down her chest, teasing around her painfully erect nipple.

Kitty arched up, offering herself to him in the one way that she could fully be his.

She couldn’t offer forever or promise him her hand as his countess, but her body and her heart was his now for as long as he’d have her.

Lips trailed down her body, his tongue dipping and teasing her navel as fingers teased the sensitive lips of her sex.

Kitty and Harrison had never dared such acts when they were younger. Each encounter had been a rushed, stolen moment filled with a passion she’d never experienced before nor after, until that very night.

The first kiss to her sensitive bundle of nerves shocked Kitty so much that her leg jerked, nearly hitting him in the head. The second kiss had her moaning wantonly, her fingers gripping the curly strands of his red hair that felt like silk against her skin.

Two long, thick fingers entered her, his tongue pleasuring her. Kitty’s body sank into the soft sheets as his fingers thrusted in and out, his mouth never leaving her aching mound.

Pulling him closer, she swiveled her hips, crying out from the delicious sensation that danced over her.

“Yes, Harrison! That’s it, I’m nearly there, more, give me more,” she demanded of him, feeling nothing so sensational in all her years.

Harrison added a third finger, filling her up. Kitty’s back arched off the bed, her hips thrusting up repeatedly as she chased oblivion.

She needed it—no—Kitty wanted it.

Wanted him.

For years, all she’d cared about was the welfare of others. Kitty drowned herself in the running of Pleasure House, ignoring her own needs and happiness. No more, this moment belonged to her alone, and she would not relinquish it for anyone.

Bracing her left foot on the bed, she began rigorously fucking herself on his tongue.

There were many tales of pleasure when one owned gentlemen’s club and there wasn’t anything that Kitty had not heard. What she lacked in experience, Kitty had in knowledge.

Harrison raised one of Kitty’s legs over his shoulder, opening her up more. Her core pulsed, her toes flexing as she sank deeper into the mattress, squeezing her eyes shut, her mouth opening on a loud cry.

His mouth and fingers never stopped as she rode out each wave, clinging to his damp head with her aching limbs.

Finally spent, her head lulled to the side, breath coming out in deep heaves.

Harrison sat up, falling on top of her, his lips taking purchase on her neck, as his thick cock plunged inside of her still pulsating sex.

“Oh fuck!” she cursed, unable to stop herself.

The feel of him was so decadent, Kitty wanted to live with him inside of her.

“Your mouth has gotten very naughty, Kat,” he teased before kissing her lips, his tongue diving in to taste her.

His lips were wet from her juices, and she couldn’t help the wicked power it gave her knowing that she was tasting herself on his tongue.

Harrison set a grueling pace, his hand taking hers, entwining their fingers together. His cock thrusted in and out, the damp strands of his hair caressing her brow.

The onslaught of emotions attacking her were nearly too much for Kitty to bear. Tears pulled at the corner of her eyes, her chest aching with something she hadn’t felt in eight years.

Her body shook, the sweet sunrise of completion rising within her again. Wrapping her legs around his waist, Kitty pulled him in closer, her sex gripping him so thoroughly that he could barely move.

“Kat, I love you,” he groaned out.

Their bodies stilled together, hands gripping the other like they never wanted to part, and there was a small voice whispering in Kitty’s ear saying one thing over and over.

Stay.