Page 63 of Love Unraveled
He shifted and lay beside her on his side, his hand delicately tracing her breasts, running along her flesh, outlining her hips, and finally lingering where she most wanted it. When he began to play, opening her, teasing her bud, she arched in pleasure. He worked his magic until she was ready to cry out with need. Then he abruptly withdrew his fingers.
“Mon amour, I cannot wait,” he said.
“Nor can I,” Sophia said, clawing at him until he was on top of her. She opened her legs and pressed upward in invitation.
Gaston braced his weight on his elbows, and she mourned the loss of connection. His enlarged pupils made his eyes as dark as midnight.
“I love you. I have never stopped,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
Before she could respond, he plunged into her, and she moaned at the fullness of him. He nested there, watching her. She stared back but said nothing. He rolled his hips, and she moaned again. His smile was slow as he withdrew before returning at an equally leisurely pace. It was delicious for a few minutes, but when he ground himself against her, it became sweet agony. Sophia pounded his back.
“More, Gaston! I want more.”
Gaston gave it to her. He was rhythmic and relentless, and just when she was certain she would lose her sanity if she did not release the exquisite pressure, he reached between them and rolled her bud. Her body let go. She let go. No anticipated scream. Instead, a groan, a sigh, followed by tears. Silently they rolled down her cheeks. He trailed their path with kisses and rested against her shoulder.
“Je t’aime beaucoup,” she whispered into his ear, and she meant it. She, too, had never stopped loving him.
Gaston rose onto his elbows and renewed his assault. It did not take long for him to culminate, his pulsating release a triumphant satisfaction. His chest still heaving from exertion, he rested his forehead against hers. A tear splashed on her cheek, and she pushed at him so she could see his face.
“You are crying,” she said softly, swiping her thumb across his cheek.
“Oui,” he said, holding her gaze. “I cry tears of happiness. For I am finally home.”
She pulled him close, and he nuzzled her neck. They lay joined for a while. Sophia thought Gaston had fallen asleep, but he suddenly rolled onto his back, pulling her with him and adjusting beneath her until she was settled comfortably on his chest. His heartbeat was slow and strong beneath her cheek.
She trailed her finger along the path of the rigid scar on his inner thigh. “Tell me about it,” she said quietly.
Gaston harrumphed. “There is not much to tell. I think of it as a gift from a friend.”
“What?” She tried to raise her head, but he held her gently against his chest.
“In times of war, it is sometimes difficult to discern who is your enemy. I had an urgent missive for Wellesley. I was riding alone and was overtaken by three Frenchmen. They did not ask questions first.”
Gaston chuckled at the memory, but Sophia could see no humor in it and told him so.
“I can laugh because we were on the same side. The man became my friend and is one of my best contacts on the peninsula. I can also laugh,” he said, taking her hand and setting it on his growing length, “because I am still intact.”
Sophia was not one to waste an opportunity, especially one as delicious as Gaston was offering. He could not bear her stroking for long, and she squealed playfully when he quickly rolled with her, desperately seeking entrance. Later, after their shared pleasure made them both cry out, she lay curled against him, listening to his steady breathing. She relived every moment, every touch, every word.I am finally home.She stared at the darkened ceiling and smiled. She had found family in her friends. But for the first time since fleeing Paris, she, too, was finally home.
Chapter Forty-Seven
And therefore if any two men desire the same thing, which neverthelesse they cannot both enjoy, they become enemies.
—Thomas Hobbes,Leviathan
“There will begossip.” Gaston swung his legs over the side of the bed, letting them dangle there as he stretched. “The entirety of London probably already knows.”
“I do not agree. My staff is discreet. They have Raimondo to answer to.”
Raimondo was undeniably formidable below stairs, but Gaston was not convinced even that beast could keep Gaston’s presence in the town house under wraps. Besides, he had quickly abandoned his rooms but had not left London. He would be spotted coming and going from her town house. Bentley would likely initiate a new wager at his club. Discretion did not seem to be part of the man’s makeup.
“I am simply saying, people will talk. You must prepare your answers.”
“As must you.”
He flopped back on the bed, trying not to smile. “I have.”
“And what will you say?”
