Page 93 of The Governess and the Brooding Duke
And that broke something inside of her, a second peak forming inside of her, but this one was different.
It started deep and radiated outward.
It went on and on, and the feel of him, like iron inside of her as her need pulsed was unending, destructive. Perfection.
And then, suddenly, his movements became more intense.
He wrapped his hand around her throat again, holding her, tightening his grip as his thrusts became erratic.
He held her very life in his hand, and she could trust him with it. And it was like a key had turned in a lock inside of her soul, and she was free.
In ways she had never known she was captive.
‘West,’ she whispered.
And suddenly he moved away from her and groaned harshly as he spilled himself onto the bed sheets.
And she realised with a rush of gratitude just exactly what he had done.
Foolish girl.
She wanted to cry.
She had been so careful, for all this time, for all these years, and she had lost herself.
And even in this, he had cared for her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and held herself against him. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘Thank you.’
‘For what?’ he asked, pulling away and cupping her cheek. ‘For...’
‘For spilling outside of me. Thank you.’
He nodded slowly. She leaned back against the pillow, tears gathering in her eyes.
‘You said you were not a maid,’ he said.
‘I was not.’
‘It has been a long time,’ he said. It was not a question.
She nodded. ‘It has been.’
The room felt like it was spinning. Or maybe it was her.
She couldn’t be sure. She wasn’t certain she would ever be sure of anything again.
‘How long?’
She didn’t have to count. She knew exactly how long.
‘Nine years.’
He sat up. His movements suddenly harsh.
‘You were a child.’
She nodded.
