The Redemption of a Rogue, стр. 63
He pressed a finger to her lips, stopping her from talking for a moment. “First off, I realize you didn’t know. In that initial moment when I turned and saw Nicholas and Selina standing there in my parlor, I…”
He trailed off as he thought of that startling moment. He’d been angry to see them, even if neither of them had ever done anything to him directly. He’d been thrilled to see them, too. He might have banned them all from his life, but he’d still followed them. He still…cared in some way, even if he didn’t want to do that.
A weakness, surely.
“They were both very kind,” she said softly. “And Aurora has loved Nicholas her whole life. I knew that, though I didn’t know his connection to Roseford.”
“He looked happy with her,” Oscar mused. “And he has suffered greatly, so I cannot be anything but happy for him. But this is a change of the subject. You said that you destroyed everything, but do you know what I thought when those bullets started to fly?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
He cupped her neck, letting his thumb trace the fluttering line of her pulse. “All I thought about was protecting you. And when I got up and looked at the carnage, all I could think was how lucky I was that you weren’t injured.”
“But you were,” she said, pointing at the bloody shirt and the bandaged arm beneath it. “All because of me.”
“Not because of you,” he insisted. “Great God, Imogen. This is because of Roddenbury and this Maggie woman. This is because of their horrible plan. None of this is your fault. I don’t blame you. I couldn’t blame you because I—”
He stopped himself. Staring up at her, seeing her lower lip tremble, her gaze hold his, feeling her whole and safe in his arms, it had forced a thought into his mind. One he had very nearly spoken without deliberation into the consequences.
He loved her.
Looking up at her, that fact was perfectly clear. Not even surprising, despite all his attempts to keep himself from surrendering to such a dangerous emotion. Despite all his attempts to distance himself from her in any way beyond the physical. She had never allowed that, finding her way over and under and through all the barriers he’d erected. Wedging herself firmly in his heart.
He had never let himself love someone like this. And now it terrified him. He wanted to push it away. But not her away.
“You what?” she whispered.
He leaned up, drawing her down at the same time, and kissed her. She shifted in his lap, and he groaned at the way that little wiggle woke up a body that should have been happily sleeping after the trying events of the day. But she did that to him. Regularly.
“I want you,” he said, pulling his lips away just far enough that he could talk. It wasn’t a lie, even if it wasn’t the thought that had filled his mind. “I need you.”
She nodded, brushing her nose along the side of his as she did so. “You need me? I need you. You were shot, you could have died and—” Her breath hitched and she kissed him again, deeper this time, her fingers pressing against his jawline. “I need you.”
They stood together and he grasped her hand, leading her from the room to find one of the bedchambers. But as they walked up the stairs together, fingers laced, he fought against the desire in his chest. Not just to make love to her. But to allow himself to love her for all the rest of his days.
He would have to restrain himself if he didn’t want to lose control of this entire situation.
Chapter 22
There were two bedchambers upstairs, both made up for guests. The first was smaller than the other, and Imogen had frowned at the narrow bed. But the second…well, it was obviously the master, made for exactly every fantasy she wished to play out with this man she loved and had nearly lost.
The big bed faced a large window. Its curtain was drawn back and late afternoon sunlight filtered in, casting a golden glow on the turned-back sheets on the bed.
He closed the door behind them after they entered and turned the key to lock it. He leaned back, his shirt still fluttered open to give her a peek-a-boo glimpse at his chest, and her heart throbbed with love and desire in a potent mix.
For a moment, she saw the emotion in his eyes, on his face. His own fear at what they had gone through, at what they had nearly lost. But he shook them away. He hardened his expression, his face darkened to that look of pure desire, command, control. She shivered, for she knew what it would bring to her body and soul when he touched her in this state. She knew he would take her pleasure, demand even more until she was weak and mewling his name.
Only now she saw that act for what it was. Not just a way to pleasure, but to distance. He didn’t want to feel the pang of fear or loss. He didn’t want to experience any connection they’d built or mourn the lack of connection he had to his siblings.
He was using desire and dominance to keep all that at bay.
He came across the room toward her, stripping his shirt away with every step. His arms wrapped around her, hard and heavy and his mouth claimed hers. She lifted into him, her body craving him even as her heart screamed out for more. More than pleasure. More than orgasms and lust. More than protection given out of a sense of obligation.
She wanted his heart.
His tongue drove into her, and for a moment that deeper yearning faded. He would take her and it would soften the edges of the fear today. She could surrender to his demands and both of them could remain in the comfort zone