Page 17 of The Courtesan’s Protector (About An Earl #4)

CHAPTER 16

R ipley understood something about the idea of pressure. He’d faced a great deal of it in his life. He knew that if it got too high, whatever it surged against would burst. And that was what had just happened as he sat at his table across from Jane. The words he’d kept silent in his heart for years had finally pressed too hard. Burned too bright. He’d had to say them, there was no escaping it.

And now she stared at him, her eyes bright with a joy that was unmistakable. A joy that faded even as she drew her hand away from his.

“Please don’t say that,” she whispered.

He shook his head. He’d never thought she’d accept that. At least not immediately. Her difficult life gave her too many reasons to fear it. And yet he had no energy to deny the truth anymore, not to protect himself from rejection. Not to protect her from whatever terror those words inspired.

“But I must,” he said. “All I want is you. All I dream of is you. I know that frightens you. Hell, it scares me, too. But there it is.”

She bent her head and he could see her struggle. The fight that was within her was as clear as any he had taken in a ring. Would he win? He hoped so. He hoped that she’d find the strength to tell him she loved him, too, even if she still believed that wasn’t enough.

But she didn’t. Her hands fell into her lap beneath the table and she didn’t speak, just looked down at her half-full plate. It was disappointing. And yet he still understood it.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” he asked. “Just be with me.”

Her gaze lifted and found his. Of course it would. Giving her body to him had become a way that was comfortable to her. She understood it, felt she could control it. And if that was the only way she would pour out whatever feelings she had for him, the only way she would accept the ones that burned in him for her…well, he’d take it.

“Yes,” she whispered, and stood. She leaned across the table and cupped his cheek, her fingers so soft against the rough stubble there. She bent in and kissed him.

He couldn’t hold back the groan that shuddered from his lips at that touch. How had he resisted it for so long? Now he craved this woman like he craved the food at that rough table. He wanted her like his lungs wanted air.

Even as he continued to kiss her, he stood, tugging her around the table, up against his chest. Her arms wound around him, she flattened her body to his and they stood there together for what felt like an eternity just kissing.

At last, though, she pulled away a fraction. She looked up into his face, almost in wonder, like she was seeing him for the first time. Her breath was shallow as she murmured, “Let’s go to your room.”

He nodded and clasped her hand, tangling his fingers in hers as he led her from the kitchen, back up the narrow staircase and into the room she had prepared for them. The fire she had laid had warmed it and he smiled as he tugged her into the chamber and shut the door.

She pressed her back to it and he caged her in with his hands on either side of her head. She lifted her chin, offering her mouth to him, but he didn’t take it. He just looked at her, this slip of a woman who had tangled herself so fully in every part of him. His Janie.

“You are so beautiful,” he said.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “So are you.”

He laughed. “You keep saying that. I almost think you believe it.”

“I do believe it,” she said. “Because it’s true. The most beautiful man I’ve ever known.” She lifted her hands to his cravat and began to untie it.

He shuddered, both at the touch and also at the words. She might not say she loved him, but he knew she did. That didn’t mean she would allow them to be together once this situation with her sister was resolved. But she loved him.

She unwound the cravat and tugged it away. She held it up, pulling it taut between her hands. He smiled as he thought of the night she’d bound his hands so he wouldn’t be allowed to take over. When she tossed the scrap of fabric aside, it was an act of trust. To have earned that from a woman who was more likely to be suspicious was powerful.

“Will you take off the rest, please?” she asked.

“So polite,” he chuckled, and pushed off the door to back up a step. He was quick as he removed his waistcoat, his shirt. He had expected her to undress, as well, but she remained pressed to the door, just watching him unwrap himself. So he slowed down, let her anticipate as he unfastened his trousers and slowly parted them.

She licked her lips and he was almost undone without even touching her.

“Fuck me, Jane,” he grunted.

“That’s the idea,” she whispered back.

It was all playful and wicked, but when she finally stepped forward and extended a hand to touch his bare chest, dragging her fingers up, sliding them along his jawline and finally into his hair, she was gentle. She pulled him down to her, brushing her lips back and forth across his like it was the first time.

He whispered her name against her mouth and pushed his hands into the silky mass of her hair. She shivered and pressed her fingers into his back, nails lightly raking the skin and creating ricochets of sensation through every nerve ending in his body.

He wanted to say that he loved her again, but instead he moved his mouth to her throat. He traced the words there, showing her instead of telling her. Wanting her to feel it in the way they connected physically. Perhaps that was all she would accept for now. All she would understand.

And so they moved together, slower now, gentle. He found the buttons along the front of her gown and unfastened them without moving his lips from her throat. She whimpered her pleasure as he parted the dress and slid his fingers inside, along the lacy edge of her chemise.

“Please,” she murmured against his mouth.

He lifted his gaze to hers, holding there as he peeled the dress away and left it in a pile at her feet. He did the same with her chemise and reveled in the fact that they were naked together. Every time it happened, it was like magic. Tonight he wanted to savor it and her. They’d both earned that after all the pain. And it would sustain him, and he hoped her, through whatever was to come.

“I don’t want to hurry,” he said. “I have all night for this, Jane. So you’re not going to rush me.”

A little light of defiance came into her eyes. “I could.”

“You could,” he agreed. “But I’m asking you not to.”

Her lips parted and then she softened. “I won’t.”

Once again, that confession of love returned to his lips. Now that he’d said it, he wanted to keep saying it. As if she sensed that, she stepped closer. She lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed him, drowning out the words and the thoughts and leaving only her and the way her body felt when it brushed his.

That would be enough for the night. It had to be.

* * *

J ane was fighting a losing battle in Ripley’s arms. In her life as a lightskirt, she’d always had tactics and techniques to keep herself from becoming too attached to any man. Ways to separate herself, never give everything. But with this man?

Well, she’d never been able to do it. From the first time they’d talked to the first time they’d made love she’d felt her defenses chipping away. And now they were almost gone entirely, finally stripped bare by his raw confession that he loved her.

She felt that love even now as he let his hands smooth over her with such gentle care. Such easy pleasure. He swept her up and she gasped with surprise, breaking their kiss. He carried her like a bridegroom might have over to his bed. She was put to mind of the night she’d come here to ask for help with Nora. He’d carried her to his rooms then, too, but for a far less pleasurable purpose. Though his care for her, his gentle protection when she couldn’t bear her own weight, that had been just as impactful.

Tonight, though, he set her on his bed, dragging his fingers along the lines of her body as he released her. She opened her arms and legs to him, beckoning him to join her, but he didn’t. For a moment he just stood over her, outlined in firelight, and looked at her.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Memorizing this moment. You spread out in my bed, like I’ve imagined so many times since that first moment I saw you.”

She sat up a little on her elbows, arched her back a tiny bit. If there was one thing she knew, it was how to fulfill a man’s fantasy. Doing it for this man was nothing but pleasure.

“Have you memorized it enough?” she asked. He nodded and she smiled as she reached for his hand, drew him down toward her. “Good, because I doubt the only thing you imagined was staring at me all night.”

He covered her and they relaxed back together. His weight on her was heaven, pressing her into the soft coverlet, a reminder of all his strength, his power, his control.

It made those moments when she stole all that all the more meaningful.

Somehow she expected him to just take her. She was ready for him, after all. The moment he touched her, she was always ready, slick with wanting, trembling with need. But he didn’t. He went back to kissing her, just as gently and thoroughly as he had in the kitchen. She tangled one hand into his thick hair and with the other she traced the muscles of his back as she allowed herself to sink into the pleasure of just kissing this man. She felt the hardness of his cock pressing heavy against her thigh, and yet there was still no rush to him.

Once again, she was reminded of both how different he was from any other man in her life, and also of how deeply and powerfully she loved him. That he loved her in return was both pleasure and pain.

“Don’t think,” he whispered against her lips.

She shivered at the idea that he could tell she was doing just that. That he knew her so well. She pulled back a little and smiled at him, wicked. But not because she wanted to use that wickedness as a wall, only because he inspired it.

“Then do all those things you do so well to make me stop thinking,” she said softly.

He flashed a grin down at her, his chuckle racing up her spine and making her body grip like it was seeking his.

“With great pleasure,” he murmured, kissed her once more and then guided his lips down her neck.

He sucked and nipped, taking his time, savoring her. She pushed away all her worries about him, about her sister, about the pain surely to come and separate them. She focused entirely on this moment, this man, this pleasure.

It was easy when he provided so much. He had learned her in the desperate, passionate time they had shared recently. He took that knowledge now and put it to good use. When he sucked one nipple, she arched beneath him with a little cry. He smiled against her, she felt the shift of his lips, and that made it even better. Her pleasure was his pleasure and that was the most erotic thing she’d ever felt.

So much so that she wished to share it.

She lifted beneath him, cupping his cheek, tilting his face away from her skin so that he looked at her. That moment nearly brought her to tears. The firelight hit him just so, outlining all the imperfections of his scar, the crookedness of his nose, all the things that made him so damned beautiful. She caught her breath and said, “I want to give you the same pleasure you give me.”

He chuckled. “Can’t give over control for even a moment, eh?”

“I’ve given you plenty of control for plenty of moments,” she corrected. “Why don’t we surrender control together?”

He arched that scarred brow. “What do you have in mind?”

“Come up here. Lie on the pillows.” She scooted to the side and let him do just that. She rolled into him, kissing him, lazy at first and then with more purpose. She almost forgot what she wanted to do as she was swept away on the waves of him. But then she forced herself back to the moment. She pulled away and smiled at his grumpy frown before she began to inch down his body, just as he had with hers.

He watched her, hands pressed against his sides, like he was trying to keep himself from taking over. She smiled as she flicked her tongue over a nipple. He gasped in response, just as she always did when he did the same. But she didn’t linger long. She slid farther down, tracing the muscles of his stomach, the ridge of his hip. And then she arrived at the very impressive cock. She caught him in hand and stroked once, twice.

His back bowed and he let out a great moan. The power of that was wickedly addictive and there was a moment when she wanted nothing more than to suck him dry and then crow in triumph that she could best a champion. But she didn’t. She’d promised mutual surrender and she intended to have it.

Once she figured out how to best manage it, that was. He was so much taller than she was now that she was leaning over him, she realized what she had in mind would be difficult to align. Then the fix hit her.

“Will you slide up on the bed a little?”

His eyes widened. “Are you intending to…”

She nodded. “Oh yes. Most definitely.”

He moved so fast that his cock bounced out of her hand. She laughed at his ardor and he smiled down at her in turn. It was such a remarkable thing that even in the midst of what was a fraught, emotional situation in every way, he could make things so…easy. The only person in her life to have ever done so.

She pivoted, settling herself onto his chest so that she faced his cock. He smoothed a hand over her bare arse before he grabbed her hips and maneuvered her.

“Oh, this is a fine view,” he drawled. “You arse-up in my lap, that sweet little pussy just perfect for devouring.”

“Then devour away, Cam,” she murmured. “If you can maintain enough focus.”

She lowered her mouth to him and swirled her tongue around his length. He swore loud and long, but then he wrapped an arm around her hips to hold her in place, spread her open with two fingers, and licked her in return.

She bucked back and he laughed. “Oh, we’ll see who can focus.”

They were silent after that, both giving everything they had to pleasing the other. As he nipped and licked and sucked her clitoris, she swirled her tongue around him, taking him as far as he would go into her throat. She was drunk on his taste, addled by the way he tensed beneath her. And addled in return by his expert mouth. He knew every route to her pleasure. They were well-traveled roads for him by now and he didn’t neglect a one. Soon she was bucking back, sucking him with less finesse as the waves of pleasure increased and then overwhelmed.

She moaned around him and then let him fall from her lips. Pleasure bordered on pain as he tormented her, lapping her up like she was the finest wine, forcing her to give and give until she flopped down against his legs, still shaking from release.

She fought to catch her breath, to refocus on doing to him what he’d just done to her. But before she could, he caught her hips and flipped her over onto her back. He shifted over her, pushing his hips between her thighs.

“Oh, Cam, I wanted to?—”

“I know,” he interrupted. “But I need this. I need you.”

There was something so real in that statement. So true. He needed her. And there was no way she could ever deny him. She didn’t want to.

“Ready for me?” he whispered, always seeking consent no matter what she had already willingly, enthusiastically surrendered. Yet another thing to adore about him.

She pulled him in for a kiss, tasting her release on his tongue. “All my life,” she murmured back.

His kiss deepened at that admission. They both knew what she meant, even if she couldn’t say the words he wanted to hear. The words she knew would hurt him as much as they pleased him.

He shifted and the hard head of him nudged her. She lifted and he took her in one slick slide. He gathered her closer, clutching her like she was something precious he never wanted to lose. He delved deep into her still-quivering body, his hips rolling against hers, hitting her sensitive clitoris with each thrust. She met him, moaning his name over and over between kisses as the pleasure he had just given rose all over again. This time quicker and sharper thanks to her earlier release.

When she came, he pulled back, watching her as she writhed beneath him. There was no show this time, no playful teasing with her reactions as she’d done at the beginning of this night. No, there was no choice but to give everything to him then, all that she was, all that she had.

It was only when the waves shortened, when her breath slowed a fraction that he dropped his forehead to hers and thrust a little harder. This was for his pleasure now, finally after all he’d given. She gripped him with every thrust, trying to return what she’d received. She felt him balance on the edge and then he fell, gloriously, powerfully, with a roaring cry that seemed to shake the very room.

For a brief moment, she wished he would come inside of her. Fill her with himself, merge them entirely. But he didn’t. He withdrew and spent between them. He collapsed over her, his breath shaky against her skin.

She held him close in the quiet dark, smoothing his flexing muscles, their panting breaths matching at last. After a little while, he rolled off, gathering her close to hold her. Little by little, she felt his breathing shift. Slow. And soon she realized he was asleep.

She lifted her head to make sure of it and found his eyes closed, his handsome face relaxed. Younger somehow, like his troubles had eased in his dreams. After all they’d been through, all they’d done, all he had yet to face, of course he was exhausted. She settled her head back against his chest and rested her hand on his flat stomach.

“Ripley,” she said softly, then shook her head. “ Cam . I love you, too. I love you.”

He didn’t stir, which was by design, of course. She could only confess the truth of her heart when she knew he wouldn’t be able to respond. When she wouldn’t stir whatever hopes he had that could only cause him heartache in the end.

But she had to say that she loved him. And she had to hope she loved him enough to save him in the end. Even from herself.