Page 18 of Inconvenient Honor
Richard went rigid. He’d just taken her virginity with one vicious thrust and little care.
Damn it woman, why didn’t you tell me you were untouched?
He forced himself to stay still, head down, panting.
I assumed, the business with Volkov—I assumed…
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she gasped.
Unwilling to withdraw, afraid to hurt her more, he focused on the sound of his own breathing.
“I heard the first time—” she began. “But I didn’t?—”
He started to withdraw. Her hand on his buttocks pressed him back.
“Don’t stop, now,” she murmured. “The damage is done.”
Damage? Is that what this is?
“Really, Richard. I think you’re not finished.”
I damned well am not.The feel of her hands drove him mad. He began to move in her.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he rasped. He couldn’t have stopped if he tried.
“I will be, Don’t stop.” She trailed a hand up his belly. The feel of it drove him to move again, gently at first until the madness overtook him, and he finished what he started.
As he fell, satiated, to her side, he heard her moan softly. He prayed the moan meant pleasure. He owed her that at least.
Damn, damn, damn.
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” His words sounded curt to his own ears.Why didn’t I pay more attention?
She didn’t answer. He choked back a curse.
“Are you—” he began.
“Fine,” she mumbled. She turned her face away. He let her. A moment later he curled himself around her from behind and pulled her close with one arm.
“Sleep,” he said. “We have much to deal with tomorrow.”
She lay very still. He hoped she slept. He did not.
What hold does this woman have over me? I never lose control. Never.But he had; he had ravished a respectable young woman.
Another thought struck him. I didn’t even take precautions. Richard was no monk, but he kept his liaisons discreet. He used every precaution he knew to prevent fathering a child. So far he had been successful.
He had never approached a respectable young woman with so much as a stolen kiss.
Irrationally, he resented her for it.Where was the damned woman’s common sense?
As soon as the sky lightened enough to see, long before dawn, he rose and began to assemble the remains of his clothes. He pulled up his pantaloons and picked up his shirt.
“Is it morning?” Lily’s voice, muffled by his greatcoat, interrupted him.
“Almost. The earlier we get to the Park, the better.”
He turned his back to her and examined his shirt. A particularly nasty stain covered the front. It would have to be burned.
