expression on his
face. “Friends? My word would count for something then, wouldn’t it?” He shook
his head. “We were never friends, Sarah. But I will not force you. I could
convince you but you would hate me in the morning.” He stepped closer and
gripped her arm. She shuddered, her blood pumping and her heartbeat erratic. When
he jerked her into his arms she could only stare at him.
His lips pounded hers, a wild, frantic kiss that melted away
any thought of resistance or abstinence. When his tongue swept inside her mouth
she tangled hers with it. When his hands threaded through her hair she moaned. His
cock pressed against the fiery juncture between her thighs that ached for him,
needed him. She was lost.
Then he tore his mouth from hers and released her. She
stumbled backward, her knees like water. She couldn’t bear to see the wretched
hurt in his gaze or the anger in his tightened lips and clenched fists.
“Do not pretend that breaking the curse is about freeing me
when we both know you are the only one who wishes to escape.” The bleak
desolation that swept through his gaze made her heart shatter. “I will respect
your wishes and stay out of your bed.”
“Perry—”
He gave her a jerky bow and left the room, slamming the door
behind him with a solid bang.
Sarah collapsed on the bed, tears streaming down her face.
Time passed but she paid no attention. Her candle had burned
down low and her eyes were swollen and sore from crying. She was a fool. Why
couldn’t Perry understand that she could not bind them irrevocably together like
that? Why did he force her to push him away?
She’d hurt him badly, she knew. During the years spent as an
invisible servant in his home she’d seen him when his spirit had been crushed
by some careless word or callous treatment from his extended family. She had
seen that pinched expression many times. Now she had been the cause of it.
Sarah lay facedown on her bed, her crying fit over, her head
aching, and wondered if she was doomed to unhappiness. In the wee hours of the
morning she reviewed every touch, every look Perry had given her. What else was
a bride to do when she had turned out her groom and lay weeping on her bed?
The day they were scheduled to leave for France seemed an
eternity away. How was she supposed to put on the act of a happy bride with
things the way they had become? Worst of all, she and Perry were committed to
attending a luncheon party in their honor. Invitations had gone out and there
was no escaping it.
She stared at the ceiling of her room and wondered if Perry
was asleep. It seemed hours since she’d tossed him from their bed. It was for
the best. She had to break the curse and she was sure that could not be done if
he Claimed her. The truth was that she was unsure she wouldn’t beg him to do
just that, despite the consequences.
No. She had to remain strong. If the curse could be broken then
they would be free of this…obsession. Yet what would it be like to be Claimed
as his? To be marked, owned, possessed by him?
It aroused her like no other thought, no tableau she’d
observed at Wolford House. The thought of his hands on her, restraining her,
demanding her surrender made her wet with need.
She slid her fingers over her slit and stroked the nub
there. Splinters of pleasure rippled through her. As she visualized Perry’s
gaze on her, watching her fuck herself with her fingers, she gasped for breath.
But she could not come. For what seemed like forever she rubbed herself, fucked
herself with her hand, but she could not let go. She needed him to tell her to
come.
“Bollocks,” she said out loud, and tossed the covers off. When
she sat up she heard him just outside her door. It was him. It had to be. Her
doubt was removed when an eerie, heartbreaking howl broke the silence.
She heard the agony, the desperation in his cry. Her own
heart joined him in the sad loneliness. As she yanked the covers back over her
head, she started to
face. “Friends? My word would count for something then, wouldn’t it?” He shook
his head. “We were never friends, Sarah. But I will not force you. I could
convince you but you would hate me in the morning.” He stepped closer and
gripped her arm. She shuddered, her blood pumping and her heartbeat erratic. When
he jerked her into his arms she could only stare at him.
His lips pounded hers, a wild, frantic kiss that melted away
any thought of resistance or abstinence. When his tongue swept inside her mouth
she tangled hers with it. When his hands threaded through her hair she moaned. His
cock pressed against the fiery juncture between her thighs that ached for him,
needed him. She was lost.
Then he tore his mouth from hers and released her. She
stumbled backward, her knees like water. She couldn’t bear to see the wretched
hurt in his gaze or the anger in his tightened lips and clenched fists.
“Do not pretend that breaking the curse is about freeing me
when we both know you are the only one who wishes to escape.” The bleak
desolation that swept through his gaze made her heart shatter. “I will respect
your wishes and stay out of your bed.”
“Perry—”
He gave her a jerky bow and left the room, slamming the door
behind him with a solid bang.
Sarah collapsed on the bed, tears streaming down her face.
Time passed but she paid no attention. Her candle had burned
down low and her eyes were swollen and sore from crying. She was a fool. Why
couldn’t Perry understand that she could not bind them irrevocably together like
that? Why did he force her to push him away?
She’d hurt him badly, she knew. During the years spent as an
invisible servant in his home she’d seen him when his spirit had been crushed
by some careless word or callous treatment from his extended family. She had
seen that pinched expression many times. Now she had been the cause of it.
Sarah lay facedown on her bed, her crying fit over, her head
aching, and wondered if she was doomed to unhappiness. In the wee hours of the
morning she reviewed every touch, every look Perry had given her. What else was
a bride to do when she had turned out her groom and lay weeping on her bed?
The day they were scheduled to leave for France seemed an
eternity away. How was she supposed to put on the act of a happy bride with
things the way they had become? Worst of all, she and Perry were committed to
attending a luncheon party in their honor. Invitations had gone out and there
was no escaping it.
She stared at the ceiling of her room and wondered if Perry
was asleep. It seemed hours since she’d tossed him from their bed. It was for
the best. She had to break the curse and she was sure that could not be done if
he Claimed her. The truth was that she was unsure she wouldn’t beg him to do
just that, despite the consequences.
No. She had to remain strong. If the curse could be broken then
they would be free of this…obsession. Yet what would it be like to be Claimed
as his? To be marked, owned, possessed by him?
It aroused her like no other thought, no tableau she’d
observed at Wolford House. The thought of his hands on her, restraining her,
demanding her surrender made her wet with need.
She slid her fingers over her slit and stroked the nub
there. Splinters of pleasure rippled through her. As she visualized Perry’s
gaze on her, watching her fuck herself with her fingers, she gasped for breath.
But she could not come. For what seemed like forever she rubbed herself, fucked
herself with her hand, but she could not let go. She needed him to tell her to
come.
“Bollocks,” she said out loud, and tossed the covers off. When
she sat up she heard him just outside her door. It was him. It had to be. Her
doubt was removed when an eerie, heartbreaking howl broke the silence.
She heard the agony, the desperation in his cry. Her own
heart joined him in the sad loneliness. As she yanked the covers back over her
head, she started to
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