Page 17 of A Love to Remember
For one foolish moment she thought he might drop to his knees again and declare that if Kirkwood forced her into marriage thenhewould marry her. But she wasn’t a young girl anymore, needing to be saved. She was a grown woman, needing to be sought after because the man she loved could not live without her.
He tensed, and then nodded slowly. “Then we are really over.”
“It would appear so.”
She sounded calm and rational. She felt as though her world, her heart, was exploding into a million little pieces as she sat there. They were finished. But they’d still have to move in the same circles. She’d have to stand by and watch as he took other lovers—
“I cannot believe this is to be our last night together,” he whispered, hoarse with pain. “Please, Rose. Let me make love to you. Just one more time.”
She wanted to deny him, to scream that he was being an idiot. But she couldn’t. She wanted one more night to cherish and lock into her memory against all the lonely days and nights ahead. She needed one more touch before he left.
She placed her glass on the table beside her and stood. Then she moved to him, pulling up her robe and nightgown as she lowered herself to straddle his thighs. Her breasts brushed against his evening jacket, and she rested her forehead against his.
Philip’s arms tightened around her as if he’d never let her go. He began to kiss her face, her brows, her eyelids, as if he, too, was trying to imprint her into his memory. He nibbled at her cheek and chin, gently nipped her lower lip, drawing her mouth open to consume her tongue.
Her breasts as her breath shuddered out, and her fingers dug into his broad shoulders.
He released her briefly to fumble with the tie to her robe, then distracted her again by deepening his kiss, sweeping his tongue into her mouth with possessive ownership.
Frustrated, she had to break the kiss when Philip began to tug her robe from her shoulders. Although she didn’t want to stop touching him, she wanted more. She helped him shed her robe, undo the little ties holding her nightgown closed, and bare her body. To his eyes, his hands, and—God Almighty—his talented mouth.
Philip kissed his way down her neck. Her nipples went hard, and as she arched back, his tongue played over them. He licked and suckled her skin, his exquisite mouth sliding along her body.
“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known,” he murmured.
Then he bit down, sucking hard on her breast just above her left nipple. He was marking her at the same time as he was saying goodbye. Marking her heart. Making it ache forever.
“You have too many clothes on,” were the only words she could manage.
This time it was he who helpedheras she struggled to remove his jacket, waistcoat, and shirt.
Finally, she touched skin, glided over sleek muscles. Flickering flame shadows glided over the sleek contours of his skin as if they, too, took joy in his shape. The corded steel of his chest, the hard strength of his sinewy arms, the rippling muscles of his abdomen—they stirred her even more. She memorized every inch of him.
He gazed into her eyes, his own dark and stormy with passion. They smoldered as she reached out and undid the fall of his breeches. Glinted as she grasped the rigid length of his arousal and stroked him.
He throbbed in her hand as he allowed her to play, to incite, and to worship. She leaned in, kissed him deeply, sucking on his tongue, a teasing taste of what she would soon do to the hard length she stroked in her hand.
Not once did he close his eyes as she pleasured him.
Soon she forgot he was watching, entranced by his masculine grace. The solid power of his hardness, so thick in her grasp, told her he was more than ready.
She pushed out of his hold and stood, allowing her nightgown and robe to float to the floor. Standing naked before the fire, the heat in her belly came not from the flames. It came from the longing look in her lover’s eyes, his need, his desire.
Holding his heated gaze she lowered to her knees and let her fingers walk up his thighs. The muscles contracted under her touch. As her finger trailed up his erection, his rippled stomach muscles clenched. She leaned closer and blew on the tip of his erection as her hand wrapped around his hardened length.
A drop of moisture appeared at the tip, and she swept her tongue over the head of his penis, tasting him, thrilled as he responded to her touch.
A groan escaped his throat and deepened to a rumble in his chest as she took him fully into her mouth. She alternated between gentle and hard, first licking and then sucking. Giving pleasure. Stoking her own desire until she was lost in the pleasure and response.
Finally, he stopped her with a groan and gathered her back onto his lap. “I want you.”
She brushed her cheek hungrily against his. “Darling, I want you, too.”
He lifted her and, with his powerful hands at her waist, lowered her onto his pulsating member. She closed her eyes, reveling in the sensation of fullness as she took him into her body. As he filled her to the hilt.
Breathless, squirming, Rose ran her nails down the sculpted wall of his chest, exulting in the flex of his muscles as she began to ride him.
She grasped his nape, took his tongue in her mouth. Joined to each other in ravenous need, she was desperate for completion. And yet, this would be the last time they made love. She wanted to savor the joy, the joy of having him buried deep within her.
