“I would love to continue hating him,” Valaria said at last as she brought a glass of port over to Flora and handed it to her with a little smile. “But I can see that might only hurt you. So if you know what you intend to do about the man, I’ll support whatever that is.”
Flora drew back at the kindness of that suggestion. She knew Valaria was protective and she was lowering her guard for Flora’s sake and nothing else. And yet she still had a great many questions. What she intended to do about Roarke in the long term was certainly one of them.
But what she intended to do about him tonight? Well, that had become crystal clear the moment he touched her hand that one final time, his warm breath stirring her lips, his gaze locked with hers and filled with meaning.
So all she had to do was wait until the right time. And hope he would accept her offer.
CHAPTER 19
Roarke had tried to sleep after he returned to his room, but he couldn’t. He could only relive in shocking detail every moment he’d ever spent with Flora. He started, drawn from the fantasy when there was a knock on the door. He sat up. It was a hesitant knock, not certain like Callum’s earlier or efficient like a servant’s. His legs shook as he got to his feet and moved to open it.
Flora stood in the hallway, her auburn hair down around her shoulders, wrapped in a pale green silk robe that clung to every curve of her body. She stared up at him, blue eyes wide and filled with a desire that couldn’t be mistaken. She licked her lips and those same eyes moved over him.
He was shirtless again, just as he had been earlier in the day, but he still wore Callum’s borrowed trousers. Perhaps he had hoped she would come like this—if he were in his usual sleeping attire, naked, he wouldn’t have been able to open the door to greet her.
“Roarke,” she whispered. “I…I want…”
He caught her hand and drew her inside, pushing the door shut behind her as he slid his fingers into the waves of her gorgeous hair and tilted her face up to his. He kissed her and she seemed to melt against him instantly, all liquid desire and soft moan that vibrated against his lips. By God, how he wanted this woman, even if he didn’t deserve her.
“Are you sure?” he murmured, breaking their lips just enough that he could speak, even though he didn’t let her go, even though their mouths brushed even as he asked that question.
“Yes,” she said, her tone strangled. “I want you. Please.”
He nodded and kissed her again, deeper now, slower. She lifted against him, her silk-covered breasts rubbing against his bare chest. His fingers tightened against her back, almost against his will and he groaned into her mouth as tingles rushed through him. By God but this woman set him on fire. He’d never felt anything quite like it in his life. The fact that she was offering him another chance, even if it never went beyond this night, was a gift he couldn’t quite fathom.
But he wanted it so desperately.
He drew back and looked down at her, drinking her in, marking every flush to her skin, every catch to her breath. He wanted to feel her flex in desire again, this time without lies or secrets between them. He wanted to steal this moment and hope he could leverage it into another and another and a million more.
“Are you well enough?” she whispered.
He realized she had taken him drinking her in as hesitation. He smiled. “My head feels much better, I assure you. But it could be falling off my neck and I would still do this. But just as before, I need you to know that you can say no at any point. Stop me at any time. There is not point of no return.”
“I’m not going to stop you,” she whispered, and then lowered her hands away from his arms and slowly untied her robe. She drew in a deep breath, as if she were girding herself for what would happen next, and then parted the folds of silk to reveal she was utterly, beautifully, entirely naked beneath.
And he was undone.
Sometimes Flora couldn’t tell what Roarke was thinking when he stared at her. Hence why she’d never imagined he’d been lying to her before. But right now, in this moment, she could see every thought as if they were tattooed across his face. He looked down at her, standing before him naked and vulnerable, and there was only desire, only passion, only worship. She felt that and it weakened her that this man might worship her. She wanted him to, she wanted to worship him back.
“You’ve never seen me naked,” she murmured. “No one has seen me naked save my maid for years.”
He reached out and gently brushed the back of his hand across her shoulder, her collarbone, lower between her breasts, and she gasped with pleasure. “My God, but you are everything. I hardly know where to start with you like this.”
She bit her lip as his knuckles gently smoothed across her right breast and nipple. “What you’re doing right now is a good start,” she gasped.
He smiled again, but this time it wasn’t gentle or encouraging. There was something a little wild in that expression, a little feral, like he was holding back a beast and now it was threatening to break free. Oh, how she wanted to see that.
“Excellent,” he said, and then bent his head to her. He kissed her throat, drawing her closer as he cupped her breast, stroking his thumb against her nipple with much more firmness.
She arched against him with a gasp of increasing pleasure. All she could think about was what he’d done with her in her parlor what felt like a lifetime ago. All she could think about was coming, but this time not just with his mouth or his fingers. She wanted him inside of her as she flexed and arched and begged.
If he sensed that building, heated, wanton desire, he made no move to slake it. He kept stroking her breast even as he glided his mouth to her bare shoulder, to nip the fine arch of her collarbone, then lower, lower until his tongue met his fingers at her nipple. He sucked and she jolted her hips against him, moaning his name as electric bursts of pleasure worked through every nerve ending.
He smiled up at her and then pulled away with a soft pop. “Why don’t we lie on the bed?” he asked.
She nodded and took a few shaky steps to the edge of the high mattress. She was about to climb up and rest back against the pillows when he moved. He pressed against her from behind, his hands coming around to cup both breasts. She felt the hard ridge of his cock against her backside through his trousers and pushed against him on instinct.
He made a low, guttural groan against her ear and massaged her breasts harder, lifting and tugging and grinding against her all at once.
“Please,” she whimpered, but instead of that making him just take her, he released her.
“On the bed,” he ordered, but gently.
She did so and turned to find he was unfastening the trousers at last. She leaned up on her elbows, watching closely. If this was the first time he’d seen her naked, it was also her first time to see him the same. When he shed the heavy fabric in a pool at his feet, she caught her breath.
By God, but he was something. Thick like his thighs and already hard and curled against his flat stomach in readiness to claim. She reached out, hand trembling, and caught him, stroking him from base to tip. He dropped his head back with a pained groan and let her tug him for a moment before he caught her wrist and lifted her hand to his lips. He kissed her palm, that feral look in his eyes multiplied.