Page 96 of Lord of Temptation
She eased down farther, trailing her tongue over his chest.
“Where are you going, sweetheart?”
She lifted her gaze to his. “On an adventure.”
Tristan stared at the heat in her eyes and was surprised he didn’t ignite. Although he was hot enough to do it on his own without any further prompting from her.
From the beginning he had wanted her, but nothing had prepared him for the urgency and the desire that propelled him tonight. Perhaps it was because he knew what she offered, perhaps it was because he had been denied her for so long—
Or perhaps it was because he knew he would never again have her.
He had decided this would be their final parting, and he hated the thought of it almost as much as he hated the idea of staying in England. Of being shackled to the land.
He’d been surprised when she’d not objected to his taking the ship from the harbor, to bringing them out on the sea. He had fully intended to sail through the night, to keep her with him until he was done with her. She might think she didn’t want to see the world, but she did. How could she not? Especially when it involved being in his arms every night.
But she trusted him, dammit. Believed him to be a better man than he was, a man who kept promises even when they didn’t benefit him. He’d hoped his bidding so outrageously on her this evening would provide enough gossip to discourage Chetwyn’s suit, but now he realized the selfishness of it. He couldn’t have her forever. He was a bastard to deny her a chance at the sort of life she craved.
Yet she seemed not to comprehend what an absolute blackguard he was, because wedged between his legs, she moved even lower. His breath stuttered, his hands fisted in the sheets. “Anne,” he croaked.
Once more she lifted her gaze and he saw triumph there. Then she gave him a saucy look before lowering her mouth—
He bucked as the heat of her mouth enveloped him.
“Christ!” He plowed one hand into her hair while the other kept him anchored to the bed. Pressing his head back against the pillow, he watched her working her magic. Only one thing felt better and that was being buried deeply inside of her. He wanted to beg, plead with her to never do this to another man. It would drive him to madness to envision her with someone else.
Damnation, he should order the sails hoisted. He should set a course to the far side of the world. He should keep her with him—
But she would hate him and her sweet mouth would never do such naughty things again.
Pleasure and pain rippled through him. Pleasure brought on by her energetic ministrations; pain because he didn’t deserve what she was so willing to give. He’d wanted to deny her a future with another man.
And now he knew he had to let her go.
“Anne.” Reaching down, he brought her up until she straddled his hips. He guided himself into her before urging her down for a kiss. He thought he tasted himself on her lips. No one had ever given him as much as she had. In such a short time, she’d given him everything.
She rode him as though her very life depended on it. He knew his did. Straightening, she skimmed her hands over his chest while her hips rocked in tandem to his. He cupped her breasts, stroked and massaged—
She dropped her head back. Sweet sighs echoed around them, and then she was crying out—
Her body spasmed around him and fierce pleasure ripped through him, tearing asunder his world, leaving him sated and devastated as she collapsed on top of him. He didn’t know where he found the strength to wrap his arms around her and hold her tightly against him. Selfish bastard that he was, he never wanted her to leave.
But as he heard her drift off to sleep, he knew the minutes were ticking away and soon, very soon, she would no longer be in his life.
Never again would he hold her, know the joy of her.
He had traversed his path for too long to detour from it now. Sadly, it was a path that didn’t include her.
Wrapped in Tristan’s arms, Anne stood in the darkened shadows of the garden. She didn’t know why she’d thought he would sail in a direction that would take them away from England instead of toward it. She might not have objected. When she was with him, lost in the haze of pleasure, she seemed to have little common sense.
But it was here with her now. She had a thousand things to say to him. But only a few truly mattered.
“No more, no more midnight trysts. The window to my bedchamber will be locked. I will never again set foot on your ship. But if you attend a ball, you may ask me to dance.”
“I may just do that. And we still haven’t had our ride through Hyde Park.”
“No, we haven’t.”
Leaning back she looked up into his face. She wished she could wait for the dawn to light it but the longer she dallied, the greater the chance of her family discovering that she had been quite improper. “Good night, Tristan.”
