Page 86 of Jane Deyre

Waves of pure, utter ecstasy unfold within me, taking every cell, every molecule, every breath. An intense, ethereal sensation that can only be described as euphoria. Like I’m rising in the air. Leaving this world. The beautiful man, this god, who is leading me to heaven, lifts my head for a passionate kiss. Cradling my face between his hands. Behind my shuttered eyelids, a kaleidoscope of vibrant colors dances with reckless abandon.

“My beautiful Jane, watching you come in the rain was the most exquisite sight I’ve ever beheld. Come for me again with your eyes open. Call out my name. Let me know you’re mine.”

“Oh, Ward!” I blink my eyes open. Raw emotion climbs from my core to my head and spills out with a shuddering explosion of tears and sobs. With another forceful thrust, Ward’s epic release chases mine into oblivion.

Spent, he whispers my name, like a prayer, and collapses upon me, blanketing me with his hard, sweat-laced body. Enveloped by the sweet, warm scent of our sex, I run my fingers through his damp, tousled hair, wanting to stay in this position forever.

A few minutes later, we’ve returned to earth and I’m nestled beside him, his arm stretched out, supporting my head. The silky sheets, pulled up halfway, graze our slack bodies. Our breathing less ragged, our chests rise and fall in perfect unison. As exquisite spasms of love continue to course through my body, he traces a ticklish heart with a fingertip in the crook of my neck, close to where his strand of pearls drapes my flesh. The pitter-patter of rain faint in my ears, his eyes, soft and hooded, search mine.

“My beautiful Jane, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I’m in a dream. That none of this is real.”

He laughs lightly. “No, my darling. This is real.” He puts my hand to his heart and I feel the strength of its beat, the heat of his skin. “I’m thinking of how much I want to make love to you again. How much I want to water the rose that’s bloomed inside you.”

Then he asks me a question I’m not prepared for.

“Jane, tell me something. Were you a virgin before tonight?”

I feel my body stiffen. My mouth goes dry. “Technically, no.”

His brows arch, his orbs darken. He props himself up on an elbow. “What do you mean?”

“John Reed...” I stop mid-sentence. The memory chills me.

His eyes grow wide and meet his brows. “That asshole?”

“He was drunk out of his mind and barged into my room. He threw himself on my bed and pinned me down.” I pause, swallowing past the lump forming in my throat. “And rammed the neck of his whiskey bottle into me...”

“Jesus. You mean...”

I nod, reliving the horrific pain, the horror of it all. The blood.

“Did he...”

I shake my head. “Before he could go any further, I flung the cup of scalding hot tea I’d just made at him. On his face.”

“That scar he has?”

“Yes. I gave him that scar and fled. He’s never going to stop pursuing me until he gets his revenge.”

Ward draws me closer to him. His free hand caresses my cheek, wiping away the tear that’s escaped one eye.

“My sweet darling Jane, no man will ever hurt you again.” The pained look in his eyes is replaced by a flash of fury. “If that sick bastard harms as much as a hair on your head, I swear to God I’ll kill him.”

His harsh words rattle me as much as they reassure me. My chest tightens. This is not the first time Mr. Rochester has expressed he’s capable of cold-blooded murder.Is he?He does, after all, possess a gun.

“Please, let’s not talk about him anymore,” I say, trying to tamp the thought.

“Agree.” Ward’s face softens though I can still feel his rage. “Jane, I want you to do something for me.”

I look at him expectantly.

“I want you to erase that fucker from your mind and think of me as your first. Can you do that?”

“Yes,” I whisper. And I mean it. Ward Rochester is the first man I’ve ever given myself to willingly. The first man I’ve ever loved.

“Thank you, Jane.” A chaste kiss on the crown of my head is followed by a wad of silence. His face a blank mask, I wonder what he’s thinking. I’m sorry now that I told him about John Reed. Some things are better left unsaid.

---