Page 91 of A Figure of Love

“But I want you now.” The words were barely a whisper as one of her hands pushed between them, settling on his erection.

He sucked in a harsh breath. “My God, Serena.”

She chuckled. “You feel so—” a yawn stifled whatever it was she was going to say and her grip became slack.

Gareth sighed and pulled her closer. “Shh,” he whispered into her fragrant hair, kissing her lightly. “Go to sleep . . . my love.”

Her breathing was heavy and deep before he’d even finished speaking. He relaxed into the bed although he knew he could never sleep with her. He would hold her for as long as he could, and then he would go sleep in her room. He hadn’t felt it earlier, but he was exhausted now himself. He’d had the nightmare every night. He could only hope it had come because he’d been either worried about Dec or terrified about Serena for the last ten days.

Gareth kept telling himself to get up and go get some sleep, but he held her until close to dawn, until he could no longer see straight. And then, without making a sound, he got out of bed, covered her to her chin, extinguishing all the candles still guttering in their sockets, except the one in his hand, and went into the next room to sleep alone.

Chapter Twenty-One

For a moment, Serena thought she was back in her prison. But the soft, caressing bedding and enticing smell of Gareth relieved her of that fear. The room was still dark, although a bright yellow line showed where the drapes met, telling her the day was well on its way.

She knew the bed was empty before she even felt the empty sheets beside her. She tried to recall last night but could only remember one thing. He knew everything and loved her; she closed her eyes and smiled, clasping his pillow to her chest, inhaling the clean, intoxicating scent of him. But where was he?

Serena opened her eyes, pushed back the covers, and padded to the adjoining sitting room; it was empty. When she opened the door to the room he’d engaged for her she saw the bed had been slept in and the door to her own sitting room was open.

She found him at her writing desk, a neat stack of papers on one side and an unopened pile of correspondence on the other. He looked up at her, his eyes taking a moment to focus before they sharped.

“Ah, you are awake.” He placed his quill in the holder and sat back. Although his face had not changed expressions, she now knew him well enough to realize he was pleased to see her.

Serena felt shy under his gaze, his gray eyes darkening as he swept her head to foot.

“I woke up to find you gone.” She glanced at the papers. “You are doing work?”

“I brought some work with me, but some correspondence is from today.” He turned and picked a letter from the pile. “Here is one from a mutual acquaintance.”

Serena looked down at her son’s writing. The letter was addressed to Gareth. She glanced up. “May I read it?”

He nodded. “It is for both of us.”

She opened the single sheet, which was dated just yesterday and contained only a few large, looping sentences. And only the last one having anything to do with her.

Serena snorted. “What a cheeky thing he is, writing to ask you to bring him some piece or part that he needs. And with barely a word to spare for his mother except his wretched dog ate his sketchbook and will I buy him another.” She shook her head.

Gareth chuckled and the sound was so unexpected—so sweet and boyish—Serena could only stare. He was quite blindingly lovely, even with dark smudges beneath his eyes. “Did you sleep in here, Gareth?”

He turned away at her question. “I did not wish to disturb your rest.”

She shook her head, amazed he could be so smart, yet so ignorant in the ways of women—at least in the way of her.

She went toward him, pushing against his knees until he turned back to her and she stood pressed tight in the ‘V’ of his thighs. She placed her hands on his face, lightly skimming the skin beneath his eyes. A light flush spread across his high cheekbones and his eyes fluttered shut, long sable lashes fanning his cheeks. She could tell by the deepening of his breathing that he was not untouched by her actions.

She leaned down and trailed kisses up his jaw, until she got to his ear. “I wanted you to disturb me,” she whispered, her face heating at her forward words as she stood up and looked down at him.

His eyes were open, pupils flared and he took her hips and pulled her against him, his head nestling between her breasts, his hands cupping her bottom with massaging fingers.

“Mmm.” His growl rumbled through her chest and she closed her eyes. He felt so . . .perfect, so right.

He turned his head and gently bit the side of her breast.

She laughed. “Are you going to eat me?”

His hot mouth roamed her body above the thin gauze of her gown, nipping and sucking her until the fabric was damp.

“When we return to Rushton I am going to tie your arms and legs to the four posts of my bed—tightly, so you cannot move or squirm away. And when you are bound and spread for me, I will take my pleasure. And I will lick and suck and bite every part of you.”