Page 81 of Bookshop Cinderella

He groaned against her mouth, rolling his body against hers, pushing her onto her back, then he eased on top of her, the hard shape of his penis pushing against her. She opened her legs, and he slid between them.

He rested his weight on one arm, and as he looked down at her, that wayward lock of his hair fell over his forehead. She reached up, smiling a little as she drew it between her fingers. “Your valet’s despair,” she murmured.

His brows drew together in a puzzled little frown, but he didn’t give her time to explain. Sliding his hand between their bodies, he touched her where he had before, a brief caress, and then he lowered his weight onto her, moving his hips against hers. As the hard ridge of his penis rubbed against the place he’d kissed her so erotically a few minutes ago, the friction sent renewed pleasure washing through her, and she moaned his name.

“Evie, my darling,” he whispered, his voice harsher now, his breathing heavier as the tip of his penis pressed against her, then into her.

She wriggled beneath him, uncomfortable, trying to adjust her body to this invasion. The movement seemed to ignite something in him, for he made a rough sound deep in his throat and came down fully onto her, capturing her mouth in a hard kiss as he thrust his hips against hers, bringing him fully into her.

He’d warned her, but nonetheless, the pain hit her like a stinging slap deep inside, and she gave a squeal against his mouth, her eyes opening in shock, the heels of her hands pressing instinctively against his shoulders.

Then he was pulling back, pressing kisses to her face. “Evie, Evie, it’ll be all right,” he said. “It’ll be all right. I swear it will.”

“I think this is going to be a bit like dancing for me, Max,” she whispered, forcing a laugh, but it was shaky to her ears.

He heard it, too, for he kissed her. A long, slow, deep kiss. “Are you all right?”

She took a deep breath and nodded. “I think so.”

He kissed her again, then lowered himself onto her and rocked his hips, sliding his shaft into her, then pulling back, again and again, and as he did, the pain began to ease, giving way to a rising, thickening pleasure.

She started to move, trying to match his rhythm, and as she did, he groaned, making her smile, for she knew she was pleasing him, as he had pleased her, and she liked that. She worked her hips, trying to enhance his pleasure.

It must have worked, for he slid his arms beneath her as if he wanted to bring her even closer, and he quickened the pace, his thrusts becoming harder and deeper, his breathing ragged against her hair. With each thrust, her own pleasure rose higher, too, and then, suddenly, she felt it—that white-hot, convulsive explosion—and she cried out, holding him tight, all her muscles tightening around his shaft.

He cried out as well and thrust against her several more times, then he went still, his body settling on hers. Breathing hard, he buried his face against her neck.

She stroked him, relishing the hard, smooth muscles of his back beneath her palms, feeling a sweet, tender bliss she’d never felt in her life before. It was heavenly.

But, of course, it couldn’t last.

Stirring, he rose up on his arms. “We need to get you back to your room before anyone sees you. If Delia wakes up and finds you gone...”

She nodded. “Of course.”

He rolled off the bed, held out his hand, and pulled her up. As he helped her dress, the blissful euphoria began to fade, and by the time he had fastened the last button, Evie felt an absurd desire to cry, not out of regret for the choice she had made to come here and be with him, but because she knew that this was the end.

It had been wonderful and magical, all of it, from the moment he’d first told her she could be a beauty, through the champagne and the dancing, and this sweet, wondrous thing with him called lovemaking. But now, it was midnight, metaphorically speaking, and Cinderella was about to leave the fairy tale and go back to reality.

At the door, he drew her into his arms, and his kiss was so tender that the moment it was over, she had to turn away so he wouldn’t see the pain in her face.

“Good night, Evie,” he said behind her as she opened the door, but she didn’t reply, not until she was walking down the corridor and she heard his door close behind her.

Then, only then, did she stop, turn, and look back.

“Goodbye, Max,” she said, and with those words, something inside her cracked, threatening to break her apart.

Immediately, she stiffened, reminding herself that she’d known all along this day would come, that she would have to go back to her old life. What she hadn’t known, what she could never have foreseen, was that leaving his life and going back to her own would feel as if she were tearing herself in half.

19

Max woke from a heavy, blissful sleep, hauled into consciousness by a knock on his door. Unlike the soft tap Evie had made a few hours earlier, however, this was an absolute pounding, loud enough to disturb not only his rest but that of everyone else in the corridor.

“What the devil?” he muttered, tossing back the counterpane and once again reaching for his dressing gown.

“Max!” Delia’s voice, muffled but holding a decidedly frantic note, came to him through the door as he crossed the sitting room, tying the sash of his robe and trying to come out of the delicious dream he’d been having about feeding peaches to a naked Evie on an Arabian carpet.

“Max?” More pounding ensued. “Max, are you in there?”

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