Page 43 of The Earl's Scarred Bride

Cecil's lips traced a gentle path along Elizabeth's scar, his touch filled with reverence rather than revulsion. The tenderness of his gesture brought tears to her eyes - here was a man who saw her marks as beautiful rather than flawed.

"I should have told you sooner," he murmured against her skin. "How brave you are. How strong. Every mark, every imperfection only makes you more precious to me."

Elizabeth's heart swelled at his words, her hands coming up to frame his face. "And you," she whispered, "are far braver than you know.”

His eyes met hers, vulnerability warring with something deeper. She saw the scared boy who'd discovered his mother's betrayal,the young man who'd sacrificed his own happiness to shield his family from pain.

"Elizabeth," he breathed her name like a prayer. "You make me want to be worthy of your trust. Of your heart."

"You already are," she assured him, pulling him down for a tender kiss. His hands cradled her face as if she were something infinitely precious.

When they finally parted, both breathing heavily, Elizabeth saw raw emotion in his gaze. Tonight had changed something between them—broken down walls they'd both built around their hearts.

The intensity in Cecil's gaze made Elizabeth's breath catch. Without breaking eye contact, his hand resumed its intimate exploration, finding that sensitive bundle of nerves that made her gasp. His skilled fingers moved in slow circles, building her pleasure with deliberate care.

"You're so beautiful like this," he murmured, watching her reactions with rapt attention. "So responsive to my touch. Tell me what you feel, love."

Elizabeth could barely form words through the haze of sensation. "I want...I want it so badly," she managed, her voice breathy and uneven. "I feel like I'm on fire, Cecil."

He growled against her neck, increasing the pressure of his touch. "That's right, love. Let yourself feel it. No one can see you here but me. And I love watching you come."

The combination of his words and touches pushed Elizabeth closer to the edge. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, needing something to anchor her as waves of pleasure threatened to overwhelm her.

"Cecil," she gasped, her head falling back against the pillows. "I...I don't know if I can?—"

"You can," he assured her softly, his free hand stroking her hair. "Trust me, Elizabeth. Let go. I've got you."

His mouth found her breast through her shift just as his fingers pressed more firmly.

Then he carefully positioned his cock against her trembling thighs, letting her feel the length of him but ensuring he wouldn't go any further. Elizabeth moaned into his mouth, her arms wrapping around his shoulders as their kisses grew more fervent.

"Cecil," she breathed, her voice shaky and full of desire. "I...I want to feel you, too."

"No more than this," he murmured, his voice rough with restraint. "Though I know exactly how to please you by now."

He rocked his hips gently against her, the movement creating a delicious friction that made her moan. With careful precision, he kept his cock pressed against her thighs, never letting it slip inside her. His hand continued to work between her legs, his fingers skilled and sure as they brought her closer and closer to the edge.

Elizabeth's body arched beneath him, her head falling back against the pillows. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and he could feel the tension building in her muscles. With a final, precise touch, he sent her over the edge, her cry of pleasure vibrating through them both.

Cecil held her tightly as she shuddered and trembled in his arms, her release incredibly sweet and fulfilling. He kissed her gently, feeling her breath slowly steadying.

"That was...incredible," she whispered, her eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze.

He smiled, his heart full of love and tenderness. "You deserve every bit of pleasure, Elizabeth. And I'm honored to have been the one to give it to you."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The morning light filtered through Cecil's chamber windows, rousing him from a fitful sleep. His body tensed as memories of the previous night flooded back—Elizabeth's soft sighs, the way she'd trembled beneath his touch, her complete trust in him even after learning his darkest secrets.

Trust. The word made his chest constrict painfully. He'd revealed too much, let her slip past defenses built over years of guarding his heart. Worse still, when she'd offered herself to him, he'd put her wishes above his own needs. The heir he desperately required to secure his lineage—he'd willingly forgone that chance because she didn't want children.

Cecil ran a hand through his disheveled hair, cursing under his breath. This wasn't supposed to happen. Their arrangement had been simple: three months, an heir, then freedom for them both. Instead, he found himself lying awake at night imagining a future with her—watching her manage his household with quietcompetence, seeing her confidence bloom as she stepped into her role as countess, perhaps even...

No. He cut off that dangerous line of thought. He couldn't afford such weakness, not after witnessing how love had destroyed his father. The Earl of Stonefield had worshipped the ground his wife walked on, only to have his heart shattered by her betrayal. Cecil had sworn he'd never make the same mistake.

Yet here he was, breaking his own rules for a woman who'd somehow made him forget every hard-learned lesson about keeping his heart guarded. A woman who'd seen his vulnerability and offered comfort rather than judgment. A woman who made him want to be worthy of the trust she so freely gave.

"Damn it all," he muttered, throwing back the covers and rising to pace the room. He needed to end this before it went any further. Before he completely lost the ability to walk away.

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