Page 106 of The Troublemaker

“I know. You did it all the time. I never looked. Not ever. Not once. Because I trained myself not to look at you that way. I trained myself not to see you that way. It was the best thing I could do. Because I never... Lachlan, I never wanted to want you all alone. I never wanted to... Toloveyou alone.”

He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat impossible to shift.

“Here we are now. And you’re not alone.”

“I know. I know.”

He reached out and cupped her cheek, dragged his fingertips down her jawline and brushed his thumb over her lips. It was a wonder to touch her. This woman. This woman who had been off-limits to him for so long, when he had pretended to himself that he’d given himself permission to indulge in any and every vice. He hadn’t. He hadn’t indulged in her. Not ever. Because he had decided that she was the one thing he couldn’t have, and he wondered just then if the truth of it was, he had kept Charity from himself, because what he really liked to do was punish himself.

That was why the wedding today had felt like such an extreme break with reality. He had never thought he could have anything good.

She had definitely been on that list.

He let his fingertips trail down to the top of the lace cups on those widow-making undergarments she had on, let his fingertips graze the plush flesh there.

He groaned.

“I’ve never wanted a woman more,” he said.

He’d never wanted a woman. Not specifically. He wantedsex. He would take it with any feminine form he could get.

It had never mattered.

They just had to be there. Be willing. The kind of woman who showed up and let her enthusiasm do most of the work. Yeah. He liked that.

He likedwomen. But they’d neverspecificallymattered.

Charity mattered.

She mattered so much he couldn’t breathe around it. She mattered so much, he thought he might choke to death on it.

This was the problem with good things. Standing next to something quite this miraculous. Quite this pure. He could only find himself lacking.

He didn’t want to think. He pulled down the top of the garment, roughly, inverting the cups and exposing her breasts. Pert and lovely, with tight pink nipples that were begging for his attention.

He was more than willing to accommodate. He wanted to worship her. So he did, lowering his head and flicking his tongue over the tightened bud there, drawing her deep into his mouth and reveling in all her sweetness.

He moved his attention to the other breast, her whole body shuddering as he teased her first with his mouth, and then moved his hand to the neglected breast to continue teasing her there, too. A rough, raw cry escaped her lips and she arched against him.

“You were such a good girl for so long,” he said. “But that was all a lie. Wasn’t it? You were just afraid. But you don’t have to be afraid with me.”

It was the first time that he thought maybe, maybe he had done something decent. That maybe his presence in her life really was a good thing. Because she was beautiful, and bold and she deserved to have the freedom to express that. He had to wonder if living that small, quiet life of hers had made her feel like she couldn’t do this. Couldn’t be bold.

But she could be. With him.

She could do anything with him. Be anything with him, and he would live to accommodate her. To encourage her.

He kissed down the center of her breasts, slowly drawing the lace bodysuit down with each millimeter he moved. She was glorious. Perfect. His.

He continued his path down, until he had lowered the garment down midway past her thighs, until he had exposed the heart of her to his hungry gaze. He leaned in, pressing his face to her, giving a slow lick down her molten core.

She jerked, a short, sharp sound rising up within her.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s right. How did you think you didn’t want this? How did you think this didn’t matter to you?”

She wrapped her arms around his head, cupping him, holding him to her.

And she was shaking.

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