Page 6 of Eternal Love (Timeless Duet #1)

I t was her turn for her eyes to widen. A strangled gasp left her throat as she kissed him back.

There were no words for the way he was kissing her .

.. like he was starving, and she was his last meal.

His hands roved over her back, meeting in the middle, traveling their way to her neck, fingers fisting in her hair, tilting her head to get a better angle to consume her.

Consume.

That was the word for it.

It was like she was thinking the word aloud.

His eyes flew open, and he broke the kiss, one arm leaning on the wall behind them.

She had to tilt her head to fully meet his gaze.

She was flushed, she could feel it, her breath coming in fast gasps.

His should be too. The fact that it wasn’t angered her for some reason.

She could see, she could feel how undone he was by their kiss.

She wanted him to look the same way as her.

So, rising to her tiptoes, looking at him under her eyelashes, she came whisper-close to his mouth and said, “Did I say you could stop?”

His gaze darkened, and the hand above her scratched along the wall.

“You’re sure, Julia?” he gritted out, waiting for her permission.

This man really was a gentleman. Time for him to stop being so .

.. for as much as she wanted him undone, she needed him.

The feeling grew the longer their lips had lost contact.

She needed them back over hers, his hands over her, in her, now .

It was like he could read her thoughts, for he got down on his knees and tugged at the zippers on her boots, kissing and caressing her now exposed legs.

The featherlight brushes of his lips sent shivers down her spine.

He grinned against her legs and abruptly stood, turning her so that she was facing the wall.

He slipped his fingers underneath her dress, gently raising it to her waist. Her fingernails clawed against the wall, anticipating what was to come, as he made his way to her underwear.

That wasn’t removed carefully, it was all but ripped from her body, as he ran his finger along her clit, making her knees buck and wobble.

Oh God, nothing had ever felt so good, so right.

When his fingers were fully inside her, pumping in and out, she threw her head back, surrendering herself to the feeling.

Ready. She was more than ready for him. She hadn’t even touched him properly, hadn’t even seen him properly, but she didn’t care.

At this moment she would be selfish. She dropped to the floor and pulled out her purse, where Camilla had always insisted she keep a few spare condoms: You never know, girl, better to have it and not need it, than to not have it and need it, ya know .

She dropped to her knees and the sheer size of him made her pause. Her throat went dry.

“What are you doing?”

“Protection,” she whispered. “I’ll put it on for you.”

He nodded, heat blazing in his eyes. Once it was on, he spun her roughly, her back to him, propped up against the wall.

They hadn’t even made it to the bedroom.

His tip nudged at her entrance, causing them to groan in unison.

She needed him deeper. What was he doing?

She made an exasperated sound at the back of her throat.

“Theodore, you won’t break me, please, come on,” she mumbled.

“Yes, yes,” he said, pushing in all the way with one long thrust. “Fuck,” he murmured, not moving his hips, like he was trying to keep himself in check.

Another time she would’ve laughed at him swearing.

It just didn’t sound right coming from his gentlemanly mouth—but not now.

Not now he was inside her and not moving, and it felt akin to torture.

She threw her hips back, to try and gain some friction.

He took that as his cue, his thrusts and movements anything but gentlemanly, as they came hard and fast. He carried an uneven rhythm, the kind where you’ve lost yourself and are close to. ..

He cried out as he spilled himself into her.

“I’m so sorry. It’s been ... a while,” he panted out.

She was still throbbing, propping herself up against the wall.

She felt empty without him now. She wasn’t .

.. disappointed. He was everything she could want.

She just needed it to last longer, for him to last longer, for him to take her again.

She’d certainly had men last a lot less time, whose idea of foreplay was getting naked and shoving themselves inside her.

“It’s okay,” she breathed.

Maybe he’d gone a few months, a year even, without sex. She could imagine why he’d be so ready to explode, if so.

He ran a hand down her back, and suddenly she was in the air, then in his arms.

“No, it’s not,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “Allow me to show what I can do. What I can really do.”

Was that not enough? Her heart began pounding, heat flushing to her cheeks, and she could only nod eagerly as he carried her to her bedroom, laying her on the bed with such gentleness that it warmed her heart.

Although she was also biting back a laugh.

They hadn’t even fully undressed each other yet.

Need and the moment had taken over. While maintaining his gaze, she tugged her dress over her head, next moving to unclip her bra.

Her cheeks were warm as she pulled him closer to her, tugging off his shirt.

She threw it to the ground ready to pull him over her, but she fumbled, her hands shaking, and paused, because he was perfect, like something she’d conjured up.

His tousled hair falling into his bright eyes, his defined abs and chest, covered with his pale skin, made him look otherworldly. And he was hers.

As she admired him, he was admiring her right back. She hoped he liked what he saw. The sparkle in his eyes and the heaving of his chest said he did.

If he didn’t touch her soon, she would put her pride aside and beg.

Then he was touching her, separating her legs with a sharp tug, as his tongue caressed and searched her sex until he found a rhythm she liked, loved , and she was panting, panting, panting.

Her legs tightened around him as she found her release.

“Theodore,” she breathed, drinking in the sight of him on his knees in her bed, wiping her fluid from his lips.

“Let me touch you,” she whispered, before sitting up on shaking legs and pushing him down.

She kissed every inch of him until he was trembling, before she finally took him in her mouth.

He bucked at the contact, and she laughed around him, seemingly making it worse.

“No,” he breathed. He looked like a man in battle and losing, like he wanted to make himself last as long as possible.

She certainly wouldn’t be complaining about that.

“No, come here.” He lay her on her back, nibbling her ear, tongue tracking over her neck, her pert nipples, until she was writhing, and it was her turn to stop him.

“Enough,” she said, and his head snapped up, obeying her, as she felt between their bodies for what she wanted.

She held him at her entrance. “I’m on birth control,” she said, a silent asking for permission.

He nodded and she pulled him into her. His hips rocked gently, rolling like a wave, slow and steady before building like a storm on the point of breaking. Then he repeated this pattern.

She’d never felt anything this good. He was keeping her on the edge of something that needed release. Taking his face in her hands, she pleaded, “Theodore,” with her eyes.

He understood. This man seemed to understand everything about her, about her body.

He reached down to where they were joined, rubbing her. She screamed his name as she climaxed, white stars blurring her vision, so that he shone when he found his own release. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

As they lay there, panting, him still inside her, he looked down on her, tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

Her lip wobbled, and she stroked the side of his face, not quite ready to admit her feelings for him. So she said, “Yes, yes,” hoping her eyes conveyed everything she was too scared to voice.

****

H e was asleep in her bed, looking like some kind of fallen angel, dark curls tumbling over his face.

She just itched to move them, but she didn’t want to wake him.

She snapped a picture of him on her phone with a smile.

She’d never seen someone sleep so perfectly.

She certainly didn’t. Camilla rejoiced in telling her about her sleep escapades whenever she stayed over—the full litany of every undignified word she’d spoken in her sleep, her drools, her snoring.

Mercifully, she wasn’t feeling tired yet; she wasn’t too sure she should be revealing her true sleeping ways so early in the relationship.

Relationship . It was like her mind stumbled and fell at that thought. But that’s what you want, isn’t it, Julia, a little voice inside her questioned. You don’t want a fling with this man. You want a relationship. You want him.

Her gaze pulled to him again. That pull.

The same one she felt when they first met a week ago.

Just a week. She ran a hand over her face.

Oh God, one week, was she moving too fast?

No, you know what, for once she was going to trust herself.

Trust her instincts. Trust Theodore. She smiled.

His pale cheeks had rosy apples, like someone had dipped their finger in blush and painted them.

It was like he had more life in him the longer she’d been here.

She could credit him with the same. Making sure not to disturb him, she rolled over and went on her phone.

She needed to share her happiness with Camilla.

It felt so fucking weird to not share every step of their romance with her.

She hovered over the photo she’d just taken, biting her lip.

She decided that it was too personal even to share with Camilla.

No matter, she’d taken a sneaky picture of him earlier in the week, hard at work, curls spilling over his face.

He’d grinned afterwards, looking up and asking what she was doing, and she’d got that picture, too.

This was one slightly blurry for some reason, like he was fuzzy around the edges.

Oh well, it was still perfect to her.

She attached it to a text message.

Here he is in all his glory. Theodore. Jealous yet? You should be after the night we’ve had ... but seriously, C, and I know it sounds crazy, but I think I’m falling for him xx

And she was. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had made her feel safe, made her laugh, surprised her like he had with the library, and then there’s the way he kissed her, the way he made love to her ... the look in his eyes, like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

Julia sent the text, put her phone back on the side table and tucked in, ready to try and sleep.

It would be pretty much impossible with what Theodore had done to her, to her body.

She should have been tired, but all she could think about was him, and the fizzle of excitement wrapping around her heart, the organ beating it into her blood with every thump , thump , thump .

Her phone buzzed.

Camilla.

With a small smile on her face, she reached for it and opened the message and read it.

Then again.

And again.

I’m only not calling you in case you’re with him. Get out, Julia. Get out of the house. That murder I was telling you about—he’s the victim. He was murdered 100 years ago. I don’t know how this is possible, but please believe me. Get out.

There was an article attached to her message.

Her mouth was dry. She lost the ability to swallow, pins and needles worming their way around her extremities.

He was murdered 100 years ago.