Page 44 of Impossible
What was happening to him?
He’d never imagined he’d feel this way about anyone ever again. That he would dream of Lucia in one moment and want Miss Treadway—Ada, her name was Ada—so ferociously in the next was galling. He was a beast.
Gently, he disentangled himself from her, pushing back against the headboard. She withdrew, her cheeks pink. “My apologies,” she murmured. “I got carried away.”
“It’s fine,” he said stiffly—as stiff as his cock. God, she’d probably felt that and didn’t know what to think.
She plucked at a thread on her dressing gown. “I should go.”
“You could stay.” He hadn’t meant to say it, just think it. “For a few minutes.”
“Would it help you go back to sleep?” She was asking another question, he thought. She wanted to know if sleep was his objective. It had to be. She would be leaving him in a few days, and he wasn’t sure he was in any shape to engage in sexual relations with anyone.
“It might. It’s also inappropriate. You should forget I asked.”
She shook her head, then waved him over so she could lie down beside him. He noted she did not get under the covers with him, which was for the best.
He scooted down into the bed and brought the other pillow closer so that he could transfer to that one and not crowd her. How desperately he wanted to press against her, to fall asleep in the comfort of her warmth and scent.
She rolled to her side and faced him. “Good night,” she whispered.
He turned to face her as well, and the inches separating them might as well have been a canyon. “Good night.”
He closed his eyes and tried to sleep.
Ada stared at the short note that she’d found in her room when she’d come to get ready for bed.
If you want to stay again—to sleep—you are more than welcome.
She’d slept in his lordship’s bed the night before until just before dawn when she’d awakened and stolen from his room before anyone realized she was there. And who would do that? No one, but that would change when the household grew in a few days.
By then, she’d be gone.
So what harm would there be in sleeping with him again? They were just sleeping, after all. He’d made it clear that he didn’t want her. With the exception of his unmistakable erection.
Those could happen with a stiff breeze!
Except there wasn’t a breeze. He was alone with you in his bed. Of course he wants you.
No, he does not! We were in a bed, and his body just reacted. It doesn’t mean he wantsme.
You’re being purposely obtuse.
Isn’t that for the best?
Ada refolded the note and set it on the desk. “Oh, good heavens, who argues with themselves?”
Before she could think better of it, she strode from her room and went directly to his. Unlike the past few nights, she hadn’t meandered, using the excuse of “walking to get tired” to explain her ramblings. The truth was that she’d wanted to be there for him if he had another nightmare.
That he’d told her even a little of what tortured him made her feel incredibly special. He had loved someone. Enough to marry her. She understood that the “something” that had happened was that she’d died. She could also guess that her death was traumatic, but whether that was due to only his grief or some additional tragedy, such as his wounds, she had no idea. Whatever had occurred had affected him deeply, and he was only now beginning to emerge from the darkness.
Shehopedhe was emerging.
When she reached his door, she wasn’t sure what to do. She hadn’t knocked on her previous visits because he’d been in the throes of distress. Plus, he’d been asleep.
Tonight, she should knock. It was far earlier than the other nights, and he would still be awake. She brought her hand up and rapped firmly. Nervously, she pulled her long braid over her shoulder so that it fell over her left breast. Then she fidgeted with the end.
A moment later, the door opened. He stood, gripping the wood, his gaze moving over her in what looked like appreciation.
