Page 65 of Winter's Waltz
“The sound of your walls being erected once more.” He nipped her lightly with his teeth as he cupped her bottom, his fingers tightening teasingly on her rump. “When I go back to Marquess, I know what it means.”
He was not wrong.
“There is a dog in bed with us,” she reminded him instead of responding to his statements. “I’ve no wish to play buttock ball with Arthur as audience.”
Max’s shoulders shook and she felt his smile against her neck. “Buttock ball? First time I heard that one, love.”
She’d heard it from Demon, who had a love of finding new means of describing amorous congress, the more ridiculous the better.
Gen found herself smiling, for she loved this side of Max. “Could it be thatI’vetaughtyousomething new?”
He raised his head, the levity fading, dimples disappearing. “You’ve taught me a great deal more than that, Gen.”
She wanted to ask what he meant, but she was afraid to hear the answer. So she kissed him again. “I’ll miss you.”
“Miss me?” He frowned. “I do not intend to stray far.”
“Mayfair.” She tried to sound unaffected and failed. Tried to smile and couldn’t manage that either.
“Near enough.”
Gen shook her head. “A world away.”
“Gen,” he began.
She pressed a finger to his lips. “Stubble it. We agreed to one night, Marquess. Don’t ruin the time we have left.”
He kissed her finger. “We can agree to more.”
More would destroy her. The longer he lingered in her life, the more impossible it would be for her to give him up one day.
“We can’t and you know it. We’re too different.”
His hands were traveling again, gliding along her waist. “In the best ways.”
“In the wrong ways.”
He kissed her, stealing her breath and her thoughts and her every objection for the moment. What could she do but open to his questing tongue, to kiss him back with all the fiery passion burning within? So she did. She kissed him and kissed him. As if these would be the last kisses they ever shared. Because they would be. Theyhadto be.
He tore his mouth from hers at last to gaze at her with an expression of such adoration, she almost looked away. “Marry me.”
Gen blinked. “Pardon?”
Surely she had misheard. Surely this was not the second proposal of marriage she had received in as many days. She, who had forever vowed she would never fall victim to the parson’s mousetrap. She, who was in no way this man’s social equal. She, who was not someone the next Duke of Linross could marry.
“Are you tap-hackled?” she blurted.
“No.” He frowned. “And I can assure you, that is not the response I imagined I would receive when I offered to wed my future wife.”
“Because I ain’t your future wife.” He was breaking her heart, the Marquess of Sundenbury. He was making her long for things she had no business longing for. Making her long forhim, a future together.
Love, whispered an insidious voice.Happiness.
“I want you to be,” he said.
Oh, Marquess.Only he could imagine a marriage between them would be possible when it was anything but.
“Wanting does not make something so.” Her arms were still around his neck, and she knew she should release him, but she was not ready to do so just yet.
