Nevertheless, it was no easy thing to get to the business side of such an arrangement. She cleared her throat and, laying her hands flat on the door behind her to keep from keeling over, said in a voice that shook only a small bit, “I want you, and I would very much like to spend a night with you. I, of course, have requirements.”
He blinked. “Requirements?”
“Yes. You need to understand that this is in no way a promise of a future relationship between us. It is merely physical, two people enjoying one another, one night of passion.” She took strength from his nod to soldier on. “I also need to know that there will be every effort made to prevent a child. You are a man of the world; I assume you know of such things.” Again a nod, this time hesitant but firm nonetheless. “Good,” she said on a relieved breath.
But with that all gone over, her bravado left her. She pushed away from the door, clasping her hands before her, her gaze falling to his bare feet on the polished wood floor. How did one move to the next step in these things? Did she simply kiss him? Did she wait for him to remove her clothes? Did she climb under the covers and wait for him to come to her?
The seconds ticked past. Still he remained silent. Her nerves began to fray. Perhaps she had misread him. It was possible; hadn’t her history proved she was not the best judge of character? She shifted, pressing her bare toes into the floor. Wishing she could sink into it and disappear.
Instead she said, her voice small, “Unless, that is, you have no wish to.”
Immediately he was there, pulling her into his arms. She went gladly, burying her face against his chest as he stroked strong hands over her back.
“Of course I want to, you silly woman,” he whispered into the crown of her hair. “I have wanted to from the moment I met you. You are beautiful, and desirable. But more than that, you are loving, and passionate, and strong. How could I fail to care for you? How could I help but—”
She tensed, her entire body going rigid in his arms. Surely he wouldn’t declare himself in love with her. It would be the cruelest joke life could play on her, to have this amazing man, who she had grown to love so very much, equally in love with her. One broken heart when this ended would be bad enough.
“How could I help but want you,” he finished. He kissed the top of her head before putting her away from him. “I want you so much I can hardly see straight when I’m with you. Even when we’re not together I think about you, dream about you…”
She laid a hand on his bare chest. His muscles bunched under her fingers, his ragged breath giving proof to his words. She ached to admit she felt the same. Instead she whispered, “I would have some beautiful memories to hold on to after you leave.”
“Clara,” he rasped, “you deserve more.”
She couldn’t help the bitter laugh that escaped her. “Mayhap long ago.”
Something intense lit his eyes. Not wanting to see what her small, unintentional confession might have stirred up in him—whether that be questions, or pity, or disgust—she dropped her gaze. A muscle ticced in his jaw, a day’s growth of beard shadowing it, the tight press of his lips proof of his disquiet. But at least it was not his eyes, so open and revealing, telling her things she didn’t want to know. She swallowed hard and continued.
“I want this, Quincy. I wantyou.” And then, “Please.”
The word had barely left her lips before she was once more in his arms. Her hands gripped tight to the smooth expanse of his shoulders, a tremor going through her as he pressed his lips to the side of her neck.
“You’re certain?” he rasped. “You’ll tell me if you want me to stop?”
She drew in a shuddering breath, his scent filling her, the clean smell of his sandalwood soap making her dizzy with longing. “I won’t want you to stop.”
“Promise me you’ll tell me if you wish for me to stop,” he pushed.
Her heart lurched, tears burning her eyes at his insistence that, no matter what, he would not allow her to regret this. Yes, she had given her heart to the right man. Though he could never know just how desperately she loved him.
“I promise,” she whispered.
Those two words unleashed a raw desperation she had not known he’d kept hidden. He pressed his mouth, open and hot, against the side of her neck. His teeth scraped the tender skin, his low groan vibrating through her until she thought she’d shatter. Suddenly his arms swept beneath her, lifting her, cradling her to his chest. He strode across the room and lowered her to the bed as if she were a priceless treasure.
“I’ll make certain you won’t regret a minute of this,” he vowed, his hot gaze finding hers in the dim light.
She reached for him, pulling his head down to hers, pressing her forehead to his. “I could never regret being with you, Quincy.”
Questions swam in his eyes, and a tenderness that touched her down to her soul. Frightened of the feelings he was dredging up, she took his mouth in a kiss, hoping to bury the bone-deep need to confess her past sins, to accept his proposal and spend the rest of her days with him. She would forget the past, forget the future. Her entire world was here and now in his arms.
He needed no further urgings. He kissed her with a desperation matched only by the one deep inside her, a need to lose themselves in one another, to make this coming together as beautiful as possible so it might remain with them long after their parting.
His eager fingers grasped the hem of her nightgown, pulling it up and working it over her head. His mouth found hers again when she was free of the garment, and he pressed her down into the soft mattress, his bare chest meeting the straining tips of her breasts, making her gasp into his mouth.
He lifted his head, his dark eyes searing into her own, the tenderness in them going straight to her heart. “So beautiful,” he whispered as he stroked a loose curl back from her cheek. “So passionate.” He shook his head in wonder. “You are amazing.”
Tears burned. She blinked them back, wanting nothing to mar this perfect moment. “Love me, Quincy,” she breathed.
“I do.”