Page 45 of His Scandalous Viscountess
His growled demand made her pussy grow impossibly wetter, even while her heart pounded in her chest. Her eyes widened as she stared up at him.
Her heart and body warred with her head.
He slammed into her once more, only to retreat and hold still again. “Say it, Jules.”
She moaned. “Please, Wolf.”
Her hips bucked, seeking more of him.
He shook his head.
Despite the protests of her mind, she finally whispered the words. “I’m yours.”
“Mine,” he groaned in triumph, and then resumed pistoning in and out of her channel.
He fucked her hard, and with a demand she could not deny. Her body welcomed his claiming until she strained and shook, while bliss overtook her fears and doubts. She burst apart at the seams as he continued to slide in and out of her, fighting the tight grip of her pussy with each thrust. In and out, he worked her body until he stiffened and thrust twice more before he withdrew to spill his seed on the ground.
Reclined and watching him right his clothing, Julia wondered how this would change things. Because there was no doubt in her mind everything had just shifted between them, whether he knew it or not. A tear slipped down her cheek, because she knew there was no more denying how she felt. No more protecting herself from this man.
Fool that she was, she had fallen in love with him.Again.
Chapter 18
Wolf stood with Flint in the front parlor of Mr. and Mrs. Fairchild’s home. They each had a brandy in hand, which Flint appeared to need far more than he. His friend scowled fiercely as he listened to Mrs. Fairchild prattle on about how wonderful it was that Ros and Flint had experienced such a whirlwind romance.
“These people know nothing about me, yet based on the fact I have a title, they would hand their daughter over without a single qualm,” Flint said in an aside to Wolf, as he swallowed down half his glass of liquor.
Wolf snorted. “Not just because you have a title. Consider that Ialsohave a perfectly respectable title, and I wasneveran acceptable suitor for Jules.”
“All the more terrifying that that poor girl might be foisted off to some cretin once we end this charade,” Flint muttered softly.
Wolf’s brows rose in surprise. “Well, if you are that concerned, I suppose you could just go through with it and marry Ros. But I’d point out that she is no girl; she is a widow. And not just a widow, abattlefieldwidow. She followed her husband to war, endured harsh conditions, cared for the wounded soldiers in the aftermath, and then, when her own husband was taken, she sought out her sister and lived abroad with her.”
Flint gulped the remainder of his drink. “And yet, she’s still too innocent by half.”
“My lords, I was just saying that the girls should consider a double wedding,” Mrs. Fairchild said loudly, cutting into their private conversation.
Jules tried to bring her mother’s meddling to a halt. “Mother, it is far too soon for such thoughts. We have yet to even set a date.”
But the steely-eyed Mrs. Fairchild was not to be deterred. “All the more reason to plan a double ceremony. You can all come to an agreeable date. It is a second marriage for both of you, so it’s not as though you will have so much pomp and circumstance as your first weddings.”
Wolf looked to Jules to see how she wished to field such a slight. But before she could say anything in response, Flint spoke up.
“Mrs. Fairchild, if I may, it will bemyfirst marriage. I cannot imagine forgoing the usual traditions, but I shall bow to the wishes of my betrothed in this matter.”
All eyes turned to Ros, who turned a pretty shade of pink. “I, too, think it is a bit early to be discussing this matter, but I promise we will consider all of it very soon, Mother.”
While Mrs. Fairchild did not look pleased about being put off, she seemed far less likely to argue with Ros than with Jules. But that was no surprise to Wolf, since Ros had always been a bit of a peacemaker in the family—especially between her mother and sister.
Two hours later, they were nearing the end of the meal. Wolf had not expected such a lavish dinner. Then he caught Jules staring at him once more. Throughout the dinner, she had cast long, lingering gazes at him, which was not at all her usual style.
He couldn’t help but wonder if it was possible that she, too, had felt the shift in things between them after he’d claimed her in Lady Maccomb’s garden? Incensed by the air of possession the sheikh had exuded when it came to Jules, Wolf had felt the need to clearly mark his territory. Not that he believed for one moment Jules would have tolerated such a notion. In fact, she had picked up on his most basic need and squarely bashed him for giving in to the urge.
Of course, once they’d been alone in the coolness of the garden, he’d still laid his claim. And somehow, it had been more than mere words or actions. It had been as if he’d finally pierced a protective shell that had been erected around his Jules’ heart. He’d felt the connection between them grow stronger, and warmer. It was hard to explain, and not something he’d expected, but he could not say it was unwelcome.
He’d known the moment he’d deserted her that he’d made a mistake, but some mistakes took time to correct. Even years.
“Lord Wallthorpe came by this afternoon, you know.”
