He let her waist go but caught her hand and she followed him, still staggered by her realisation.
She had no idea what she would do, how she would cope but, right then, she was just going to go with it.
“Jewel,” Gavin had once said, “you need to take a risk, leave that little farm town and live your life. There’s something out there for you, little sister. But you’ve got to go out and find it.”
Tonight, she’d taken a risk.
She’d agreed to marry a wealthy, dangerous, English Baron, who she could easily love, who also happened to own a haunted mansion.
Tomorrow, she’d take it back and most likely regret it for the rest of her life.
But she had no choice. She had to guard her heart. She couldn’t go through it again without being destroyed.
He stopped, his back to the side of the bed, turning her to face him. His hands went to her belly and then turned, the backs of his fingers brushing against her as he spread open the shirt. His head descended and his teeth nibbled at her lips.
“I want you,” his voice was low and silky, “with this on,” he said, his mouth teasing hers and he indicated what he meant by tugging at the shirt.
She took a shuddering breath and mumbled, “Okay.”
He found her hand and pulled sharply at it, forcing her to fall with him back on the bed, hooking her at the waist so she fell on top of him.
He kissed her, his right hand delving into her hair to hold her head firmly to his and his left hand pushing the fabric of his shirt away so her na**d body was pressed against his. She felt the immense heat of him and revelled in it, allowing it to fire her skin. Then his hands ran down her back, over her bottom and he did an abdominal crunch, his fingers softly sliding down her legs to the backs of her knees.
He pulled his mouth from hers and she found she was already breathing heavily, wanting him again.
“This time,” he began and with a forceful jerk he pulled her knees up and she found herself, with a surprised gasp, straddling him. One of his hands moved from her knee and went between their bodies, the other hand went to her waist. “You get to do all the work.” His hand on her waist drove her relentlessly down on him and, as he filled her, her teeth caught her lower lip in delicious pleasure, her head rolled back and her back arched.
“I think I can do that,” Julia breathed, wishing she sounded more sultry and cosmopolitan but he’d have to make do with just her.
She bent forward again, kissed him softly and it began.
Of course, it didn’t end with her on top, not with Douglas. Moments before their cl**ax, he flipped her onto her back and drove into her unrelentingly, this time wrapping her legs around his waist himself, thrusting fiercely as if he wanted to penetrate her very soul, until her teeth bit uncontrollably into his shoulder and, finally, she had no choice but to throw her head back and cry out his name in pure, excruciating, mind-numbing pleasure.
Chapter Seventeen
The Morning After
Douglas woke, felt his arms were empty and the delicious furnace that was Julia’s body in sleep was gone.
His eyes opened, he turned his head and saw Julia had pulled away from him some time in the night and was lying a foot away, her back towards him. He turned to his side and lifted himself on his elbow in order to watch her sleep.
She was leaned slightly forward and her chin was tucked into her chest, her arms crooked, hands resting on the pillow in front of her, the side of one palm lightly pressed against her nose. Her face was relaxed, the sleek line of her jaw partially covered by a soft fall of her hair.
There was something about Julia in sleep, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it was something he liked.
Watching her, he felt an odd sense of contentment settle over him.
He had won; she had agreed to be his wife.
He always knew he’d win however, he did not count on it taking so damn long.
Nevertheless, the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory.
And victory over Julia was exquisitely sweet.
He pulled the heavy, golden hair away from her neck and kissed her there. She didn’t move, not even a twitch, but then, he thought with an inward smile, she was surely exhausted.
Douglas was unbelievably energised.
He rolled off the other side of the bed and caught sight of the clock. Cursing under his breath, he strode to his sitting room, closing the door to the bedroom with a soft click. He picked up the phone and dialled twenty.
Mr. Kilpatrick answered at the Groundskeeper’s Cottage after two rings. Douglas could hear in the background what sounded like pandemonium.
The children, it would seem, were either tearing apart the Kilpatrick’s home or ripping each other to shreds.
Regardless of the tenor of the noise, there was something both pleasing and distressing about it. This was because Douglas had heard it before, time and again, whenever he’d go to Tamsin and Gavin’s home.
He had never heard it at Sommersgate, not before Tamsin and Gavin’s deaths, nor after.
Douglas was pleased to hear it again just as he was distressed it had stopped and all the reasons why.
At Mr. Kilpatrick’s repeated greeting, Douglas shook off these thoughts and, without introducing himself, started to say, “Can you…” but stopped speaking when another phone was picked up and Mrs. Kilpatrick muttered a distracted hello.
Douglas was forced to start again. “I need you to watch the children for a few more hours.”
“Is everything all right?” Mrs. Kilpatrick asked immediately, sounding alarmed.
Douglas found he was at a loss of what to say. He’d never been asked a question when he’d given an instruction. He couldn’t say that Julia was ill or Mrs. Kilpatrick would come racing down to the house. He certainly couldn’t tell them the truth.
“Miss Julia is,” he fought for a diplomatic explanation and found one, “indisposed.”
Silence greeted this announcement and then he heard a phone inexplicably clatter down in its cradle. Mr. Kilpatrick assured him the children were safe with them and Douglas rung off.
He returned to the bed, sliding in behind Julia and fitting his body against the silken length of hers while he slid his arm around her waist. He was debating with himself whether to take a moment to relive the extraordinary events of last night or to press his hand between her legs just so that he could hear another of her husky moans. Then, later, he’d coax her to say his name in her sweet, low voice when her limbs were wrapped tight around him and he was buried inside her.
While he was uncommonly undecided, she settled into his body, wiggling her ass into his groin.