How can a lie of omission truly harm him?
She silenced the voice within, for it wanted too much. The last few years had taught her all too well that she could never have more, that she was fortunate indeed to have carved out her little place in the world where she could bide her time until she reached five-and-twenty.
“I’m greedy where you’re concerned,” Rafe told her, his gaze traveling over her face as if it were a wonder to him.
No one had ever looked at her thus, and it chipped away at her resolve as surely as a chisel. “You never answered me, Rafe. Why have you come to my room?”
He leaned his forehead to hers. “Because I cannot stay away from you. Regardless of how many times I tell myself I ain’t the sort of chap for a lady like you, as soon as I’m beneath this bleeding roof, I’m drawn to wherever you are.”
&n
bsp; The wall of her defenses had been reduced to rubble. Her desire rose, stronger than her fear of being caught, more consuming than the need to maintain her lies and her position as the governess to Anne and Elizabeth. Here, in this room, she was his and he was hers.
She might pretend for a little while longer that what they shared never needed to have an end. That forever was possible. That she loved him and he loved her.
“Rafe,” she said, but then the profundity of her emotions overwhelmed her, stealing her capacity for further speech.
Instead, she rose that scant two inches, all she required to be the same height as him, and pressed her mouth to his. It seemed she was always the first to kiss, and she was not certain whether it was by design. Perhaps he was giving her the control in much the same way he had when he had pleasured her. Or mayhap her want was the strongest, the most demanding.
She did not care if it was.
All she did care about was that he was kissing her in return. On a low growl, he cupped her face and held her still while he ravished her mouth with the hungriest kiss yet. He kissed her as if they had been separated for a decade rather than three days. Lips angling over hers, tongue sliding hot and wet to plunder. She made a low sound of her own, desire snaking through her as she sank her fingernails into his shoulders and held on tightly.
Letting him go was no longer a choice. He was a necessity to her. His presence, his warmth, his strength, his kiss. Had she thought the last time would be enough? That she would be satisfied with one night in his arms?
One would never be enough, for she felt every bit as greedy as he had claimed to be. She wanted more. Everything he had to give.
He kissed her harder, exploring, it seemed, every part of her as his tongue swept over hers, tracing her teeth, sinking deep, stroking even the insides of her cheeks. His fingers were in her hair now, the telltale sound of hair pins raining to the carpets, her curls coming unbound to fall down her back.
She did not care.
As if he had helped her dress that morning, he knew where to find all her tapes and ties and buttons. His hands caressed everywhere they traveled, divesting her of each layer with measured motions that were somehow smooth and frantic all at once. Her sensible gown fell away, and with it, all the reasons why she should not be alone with Rafe Sutton in her room. So, too, the reasons why she must not risk everything she had spent all the years of hiding working toward.
She wanted him. He was here. Noting else mattered tonight. The misery of the last three days without him was forgotten as well. But it was hardly fair that he retained his garments while she was so quickly losing hers. Her fingers moved of their own volition, sliding buttons from their moorings. Untying knots. His coat and cravat were gone before their lips ever even parted.
He was first to break the kiss, lifting his head, his breaths gratifyingly ragged. “I told myself I wouldn’t do this. All I wanted was to see you.”
She understood he was at war with himself, for it was no different for her. “Seeing is not enough, is it?”
“Damn it.” He closed his eyes, his hands tense on her waist, neither pushing her away nor holding her close as he struggled, before opening them on a sigh. “It has to be enough. Christ, what a beast I am. I’ve already stripped away your bleeding gown.”
She wanted him to strip away the rest. Now that he was here, how could she let him go?
“Stay with me,” she said, softly, beseeching him with her eyes. “Please, Rafe. I…I missed you.”
It was the closest she dared allow herself to get to a declaration.
And it was everything he needed. In the next breath, his mouth was on hers, fiery and insistent. More garments were shed. Petticoats and stays disappeared. His waistcoat and shirt had been shucked as well.
Still kissing, they moved to her small bed. He lifted his head, gazing down at her with so much fiery passion, her knees went weak.
“What is it that you want, lovely?” he rasped, his voice low and rough with desire. “Tell me. I need to know, to hear the words from your sweet lips.”
Persephone did not hesitate. “You, Rafe. You are what I want.”
“But you’re an innocent,” he protested, his countenance torn. “You can’t mean—”
“I can,” she interrupted, rising on her toes to press a swift kiss to his lips, silencing his objections. “I do. I know what I want, and it’s you.”