Page 49 of Pursuing Lord Pascal
Pascal muttered something incoherent as he pushed her down into the desk with sudden fierceness. Then she felt him jerk against her back, and his hot seed flooded her.
* * *
Exhausted, feeling as if she’d walked to Moscow and back, Amy opened dazed eyes. Her cheek pressed against the leather covering the desk, and Gervaise slumped over her. She never wanted to move. Right now, she felt that she and Gervaise inhabited a world where nothing could mar their perfect union.
They were still joined, and soft quivers of pleasure rippled through her. The air smelled of sex and sweat and satisfaction. How could such a flagrantly carnal act make her want to cry at the poignant sweetness of it all?
He groaned as he levered himself up, separating their bodies.
“That was…unforgettable.” He sounded shaken, too.
She smiled wearily as she rose. What they’d done had been astonishingly potent, but now she ached from the strenuous mating. Her skirts tumbled down her rubbery legs, restoring a modesty she’d well and truly sacrificed.
Gervaise stepped back, and she turned reluctantly. After that shattering encounter, she felt lost and vulnerable. Only now in the aftermath did she realize what appalling risks they’d taken. This passion for Lord Pascal threatened to carry her into dangerous waters indeed.
When he cupped her cheek, she forced herself to meet his eyes. She wasn’t sure what she’d see in his face. Admiration? Fondness? Disgust? She’d just let him debauch her over a desk, for God’s sake.
She bit back a gasp. She’d never seen him more beautiful. His blond hair was ruffled, lending him an uncharacteristically boyish air. That long sensual mouth was full and relaxed. And his eyes were clear. He looked young and approachable in a way she’d never seen, even during their radiant hours outside Windsor.
He’d already tucked in his shirt and fastened his trousers, but he was a long way from his usual elegant self. His neck cloth was crushed, and his clothes were crumpled.
“Are you all right?” His thumb brushed her cheek in a caress that she felt to her toes.
“Silly to feel…shy after that.” She glanced down to where her drawers lay blatant witness to her wantonness, white against the green and beige carpet. She shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, and the movement reminded her of the slick heat between her legs.
“Not silly at all,” he said, with one of those smiles that always made her want to fling herself against him and never let him go.
His kiss immersed her in an ocean of gentleness. She blinked back more foolish tears, even though she still had no real idea why she felt like crying.
Except he sliced through every attempt to defend herself. He left her terrifyingly vulnerable, as though she’d lost a couple of layers of skin. She’d never felt at anyone’s mercy, the way she did with Gervaise.
To hide her powerful emotion, she bent to retrieve her drawers. “I’d better take these. Otherwise Lord Frame will get a shock tomorrow morning.”
Her voice emerged unnaturally high, and she avoided Gervaise’s eyes, although some instinct told her he watched her closely. “Amy?”
“Please turn around.” She knew she acted like a ninny, but she felt horridly uncomfortable. The stupid fact was that she’d felt so alive and happy and safe with him pounding into her like a hammer. Now it was over, she was frantic for some privacy to gather her composure. If she appeared in the ballroom, surely everyone must guess exactly what she’d been doing.
She chanced a glance at him. A faint frown marked his face.
“Please,” she said with a small, imploring gesture.
His lips compressed with impatience, but he cooperated.
Because her hands shook so badly, she took an age to tie her drawers back on. “You…you can look now,” she said in a husky voice.
She’d hoped some poise would return, once she’d got her undergarments off the floor. It didn’t.
When Gervaise turned, the eyes that met hers were somber. “I didn’t withdraw.”
Of course he didn’t. Perhaps that was why she was so on edge. Except she’d gloried in that luminous moment when he’d given himself up to her.
“I know,” she said in a thready voice.
“I should apologize,” he said with a hint of grimness. “But in truth, I don’t think I can. It was the most perfect moment of my life.”
She searched his face for insincerity, although she was sure he’d always been honest with her. “Really?”
“I know it’s a disaster.” He sighed and ran his hand through his rumpled hair. “But it doesn’t feel like one.”
