Page 61 of Winter's Waltz
Chapter 11
Both Max’s conditions had long been met. Kisses—accomplished. Arthur—safe in his bed. They walked into Gen’s apartments, their hands linked, and he took a moment to observe it in a way he had not previously.
“You chose the wallcoverings?” he asked her.
They were yellow damask, cheerful. Not what he would have expected of the fierce, hardened woman he had initially come to know, it was true. But now that he had gotten the chance to see beneath her gruff exterior, the brightness made sense. It was how she was, like the sun in the sky after a vicious storm. Loveliness in the midst of darkness.
“Yes,” she said, looking around along with him, a satisfied smile on the succulent fullness of her lips. “It is happy and hopeful when life so often is not.”
Her life had not been, at least not when she had been a girl. Max knew it, and he hated what she had endured.
“It is beautiful,” he said, his gaze clashing with hers. “Youare beautiful.”
“I am not.” Rose tinged her cheekbones.
She had never been more glorious. Nor more vulnerable. There was a difference to her this evening. All the walls had tumbled down, and she had no more artifice, no more bluster. She was only herself, as he had never seen her.
“You are,” he pressed, because she needed to hear these words. Needed to know their truth. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known, not just for your exterior, but for who you are and what you do.”
“What I do?”
“How hard you’ve worked on Lady Fortune, taking a pickpocket and a three-legged dog under your wing, everything.”
“I inherited Davy from Dom, and Arthur found his way to me. He had been hit by a carriage. I nursed him. We could not save his leg, but he has never seemed to mind.”
No, indeed. The hound was as effortlessly active as any Max had ever seen.
“You saved him,” he said needlessly.
You saved me.
But he would not say that. Not now. Not yet. Even if it was true.
“Do not think me a saint,” she said, voice low, eyes darkening. “Because I very much want to sin.”
Yes. Oh hell yes.
“You are sure?” he asked, because he had to be certain.
She had told him he must stay or face grave peril to his nose. A sally, he knew. Her intentions had seemed clear. However, he wanted the decision to be hers. If she had misgivings, now was the time to embrace them.
“That I want to sin?” she asked, her arms looping around his neck. Unrepentant.
He clamped his hands on her waist, hidden beneath her gentleman’s garb in the most egregious of travesties. But then, it also meant her body’s secrets were his. “That you want me.”
“Marquess.” Her smile was wicked. Alluring, tempting. “I have never wanted another more.”
“Thank Christ.”
He did not wait. His mouth was on hers. Tongues met, dueled. Hunger for her was almost enough to consume him. Every part of him concentrated upon her,Gen. The connection of their lips. The need humming through him. She was everywhere. In his arms, on his lips, colliding with his most intimate thoughts, swirling through him, upending him utterly.
And that was before her hand settled on his cock.
But when it did…
He groaned into their kiss. She cupped him through his trousers, stroking his length with an ardor that, whilst untutored, was wholly delicious. And devastating. Enough to nearly bring him to his knees.
He tore his lips from hers. “If you continue with that, I’ll not last long.”
