From Rags to Kisses by Shana Galen
Eleven
Jenny pushed Aidanagainst the door, slamming it closed. Then she wrapped her hands around his neck and brought his lips down to hers. She pressed her body against his, the urge to touch and be touched overpowering her better judgment. She knew her reaction was in response to the fight. They might have died—well, he might have died; she could handle herself—but the threat and the danger made her blood race. She needed to remember she was alive. That was all this was. It had nothing to do with the fact that the man she couldn’t stop touching was Aidan Sterling.
“Jenny,” he moaned when they broke apart, and she slid a hand between them to cup his erection.
“I said, don’t talk.” She stepped back. “Take off yer clothes instead.”
He raised a brow, but he didn’t argue. He stripped off his coat, and she did the same. She didn’t have a waistcoat, so while he fumbled with his buttons, she pulled the linen shirt over her head. She’d bound her breasts lightly with a linen strip this time, and she unknotted it and began to unwind it. When she looked up, Aidan’s hands had frozen on the last button of his waistcoat.
“Keep going,” she said.
“Do you have a bed chamber or are we to make use of the floor?”
Why did he insist on talking? It made it hard for her to pretend she wasn’t yet again betraying Roland with him. “Ye never minded the floor in the past.” She dropped the binding on the ground, revealing her tits.
“The floor it is then.” He stepped forward to take her in his arms again, but she moved away and gestured for him to follow. She wouldn’t admit that he had a point about the floor—they weren’t seventeen any longer—so she led him to her bed chamber. Her flat was dark, and he didn’t know the way, so there were several thumps and exclamations as they moved, but once they entered her room, the fire burned low in the hearth, giving some light.
She turned to watch him, wondering how he saw the small chamber. His had probably been the size of her entire flat. But her bedchamber only held a dresser, a washstand with a basin, and small bed. The bed was comfortable and the linens clean, but it was by no means luxurious. His gaze skimmed right over the bed and the dresser and went straight to the shelf by the window. She’d forgotten about that. On it were an assortment of trinkets—some extremely valuable, some valuable only to her.
“Still a collector, I see,” he said, shedding his waistcoat and moving closer to the shelf. She caught his hand and pulled him back.
“Yer talking far too much.”
“And what should I do with my mouth?” His gaze drifted to her tits, and one of his hands came up and palmed one. Now she was the one who couldn’t stop a moan. His thumb raked over one hard nipple, and she gasped. He bent to take the hard point into his mouth, licking and suckling with such skill that she couldn’t catch her breath. She was writhing against him, and his hands caught her hips, pulling her body against his hard member.
“Yes,” she moaned. “Clothes off.”
He stepped back and made quick work of his shirt. Jenny exhaled the last of her breath at the sight of his bare chest. If she needed a reminder he was no longer a boy, the muscles and hair on his chest were the perfect prompt. She ran a hand over his chest then sat on the bed next to him while he pulled off his boots. He struggled with the second one, and she helped him remove it then stepped between his legs and pushed him back on the bed. He looked up at her, his dark eyes large in his face. She loosed the fall of his breeches and slid the material down his hips. His erection was hard and lay heavy on his abdomen. She sank between his legs, took his member in her hands, then touched her lips to the tip.
Aidan hissed in a breath. She liked the taste of him and the smooth velvet of his cock against her tongue. Slowly, she took all of him in then slid her lips back to the tip again. His hands fisted in the covers of her bed as his breathing became wildly erratic. She pleasured him with slow, maddening strokes until he put his hand on her head, stroking her hair in a gentle caress. That touch undid her. Even in this moment, when he was close to climax, he was gentle and caring with her. She felt her eyes sting with tears. Damn him. She wanted release, nothing else. No affection. No caring. No...love.
She gripped him with one hand, moving it in time to her lips. He groaned and when she knew he was close, he took her shoulders and pulled her up. “Wot are ye doing?” she asked.
“Your turn,” he said and reached for her trousers. “I’ll never get used to the oddity of unfastening trousers on a woman,” he said.
Christ, but he was talking. Again. “Ye don’t like it?” she asked.
“Oh, I like it.” He wiggled them over her hips then whispered, “Bloody...” He looked up at her. “You’re wearing nothing underneath.”
“Ye forgot my boots,” she said. She stepped away, turned her back to him, and holding onto a wall, bent to remove one boot then the other. A sound like a pained animal came from behind her. She discarded the rest of her clothing, and when she turned, he had undressed and was naked on her bed. Now she was the one who made a strangled sound. Had she ever seen anything like Aidan Sterling naked? He was all muscle and long limbs and dark hair.
She crossed to the bed and made to straddle him, but he took her by the waist and flipped her over, so she was under him. She wouldn’t have allowed any other man to take control like that, but this was Aidan. She trusted him with her life.
“I don’t have my French letters with me,” he said. “It’s better if I’m in control.”
She wanted to argue, but then he kissed her, and his body was heavy on hers, his skin hot against her own, and she didn’t care what he did as long as he didn’t stop. His hand slid down her body and between them, finding her hot and wet, she knew. He brushed his fingers over her sex, and she whimpered. She needed him. A few touches and she would come apart. He spread her, one finger sliding between her folds until he found that little nub of pleasure. His thumb flicked over it, and she gasped and writhed. Then his fingers—no, it was his cock—was at her entrance, and he slid partway in, his thumb still working her.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as he slowly filled her, all the while bringing her closer and closer to climax. She looked up at him, realizing he’d stopped kissing her and was watching her face. Her gaze locked with his, and she raised her arms and put them over his neck, linking them together. She’d never felt so close with any other man. Never watched a man’s every expression as he entered her, pleasured her. She hadn’t wanted this to mean anything, but it seemed she couldn’t stop it from meaning everything.
His thumb moved again, and the rush of sensation took over. She tipped and fell into the orgasm, bucking her hips and sheathing him fully inside her.
Aidan cursed as she tightened around him. He moved with her, the feel of him increasing her pleasure until she was almost blind with it.
His hands were on her hair, her cheeks, her lips. She opened her eyes and saw Aidan. The love she had felt for him all those years before rushed back over her. She hadn’t ever really let it go, and now he’d released it again, and she had to bite her lip to keep from telling him. But she didn’t have to say it. He knew.
And she knew.
She could see the love he felt for her in his eyes. She could feel it in the way he touched her. It was in every part of this act.
She felt him swelling and he groaned and quickly pulled away, spilling his seed on the linen she’d tossed on the bed earlier. Then he collapsed beside her, his breath as ragged as hers.
They lay together, catching their breath. Her bed was small, which meant it took barely a movement for him to pull her back against his chest and bury his lips in her neck. Jenny closed her eyes, wishing the outside world would never intrude again. Wanting to stay here, in the safety of his arms forever.
***
SHE SMELLED SO GOOD. So clean and sweet and yet like his Jenny—though she’d never smelled this good in the rookeries. Her hair tickled his nose, and her skin was soft against his cheek. He thought about saying it—saying the words hanging between both of them—then decided she might hit him if he did. There was a reason she hadn’t wanted him to speak. She wanted to pretend this wasn’t happening between them again.
She might even want to pretend she didn’t love him. But she did. He’d seen it. And he loved her. She was the only person he’d ever known since the age of twelve who could make him forget that he was hungry or tired or hurt. Now she made him forget that he had contracts and meetings and mergers to see to. He didn’t care about any of it when he held her in his arms.
Earlier she’d said he’d only leave her again. He’d never walk away from her as he had before, but she might not be wrong about his drive and ambition. If he did have her, would he leave her, figuratively, to seek more wealth and riches? Once he was at work—once he had a contract within sight, negotiations on the table—it was always difficult to think of anything or anyone else. How many nights would Jenny wait for him? Alone? Neglected?
Chamberlayne wouldn’t neglect her. They were friends. She’d always have a place with him. But that place would end at the bed chamber door. She’d be alone there, and Aidan knew how long those nights could feel. But would being with him be any different for her? Could he ever believe he had enough? Could he ever be satisfied with what he had and stop needing to acquire more?
He was beginning to think it might be possible. He wanted to believe it was possible with her. But she didn’t fully trust that he could put his need for financial security aside. Aidan knew that was because she knew him, and he wasn’t sure he could do it either. Just as he knew her and knew the one thing she feared was not being loved. He loved her, but she needed all of his heart, not just a sliver that wasn’t devoted to business. She needed all of it if she were going to risk her own heart. She’d sacrificed her chance at love for security, and Aidan wasn’t sure he could be that security when he was still seeking it himself.
“Yer thinking too loudly,” she murmured.
“My apologies.”
“I’d ask wot ye were thinking, but then ye might tell me.”
He smiled. He opened his eyes, and his gaze settled on her shelf of treasures. How many times had they lain in abandoned buildings like this, close together to keep warm, his gaze on the twinkling of the metal treasures she’d collected?
“Looks like you’ve quite the collection,” he said, raising a hand to point lazily at her shelf.
“Nothing too valuable,” she said. “Or Roland would send it to a museum or insist we keep it locked up.” She sniffed. “As though no one can pick a lock.”
He rose on his elbow. “I haven’t seen much of this flat, but so far nothing reminds me of you except that shelf,” he said. He looked down at her. “May I?”
“Ye really want to get up right now?” she said, her voice sultry.
He chuckled. “I’ll come right back.” He climbed out of bed and reached for his breeches.
“Oy, if yer leaving my bed, at least let me look at ye.”
For some reason that made his cheeks heat, but he dropped the breeches and went to the shelf, aware she was probably staring at his bare arse. At first, Aidan looked at the collection as a businessman might—what was it worth? What could he sell it for? There was a coin worth something and part of what looked to be an earring, but then his gaze caught on the small silver cylinder. No, not silver, he remembered. It was pewter. His pinky finger was too big for it to fit over now, but the scrollwork was still lovely, especially as it had been cleaned. He looked over his shoulder.
“You still have this?”
“My prize possession,” she said. “I know wot it is now too.”
“What’s that?”
She rose and came to stand beside him, taking the object. “The top of a needle case. They still make them today. A seamstress can keep her needles inside and protected. It’s not worth any more than the price of the pewter melted down.”
“But it has sentimental value,” he said. His gaze roamed over a few other pieces. “I remember some of these others as well. But these are new.”
She followed his outstretched finger. “Roman coin with Domitia, wife of Emperor Domitian. We found about forty of them on a dig.”
“And Chamberlayne let you keep one?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t exactly ask.”
He laughed. “You’ll always be a thief at heart.”
“Look who’s talking,” she shot back. “Yer quite the thief yerself. Now ye steal businesses and make schemes, but it’s thieving all the same.”
“I won’t argue.” He put the needle case back and sat on her bed. “And I did my share of stealing in the army.”
“Oy! Wot’s this?” She put her hands on her hips, which might have looked cocky if she hadn’t been naked. “And I thought ye liked the army because ye were sure of three meals a day.”
“This was later, when I joined Colonel Draven’s troop. We had a special mission and no supply lines. We had to sneak behind enemy lines and buy, beg, or steal what we needed.”
“Sounds a lot like the rookeries.”
“It was. I hated it.” He reached out and wrapped a hand around her waist, pulling her between his legs. “And there was no Jenny to keep me warm at night or boost me through a window. Thirty men counting on me to get horses or bread or pistol balls.” He felt her hand under his chin and looked up at her.
“Ye got a faraway look,” she said. “Was it awful?”
He swallowed. He’d never talked about it before. Never put his experiences into words. “Yes,” he said simply. “There were thirty of us and only twelve came back.”
“Ye were lucky,” she said.
“Exactly. So many people think I came back because I fought harder or outsmarted the French or was some kind of hero. But it was just luck. That’s all it was.”
She took his face in her hands. “I ‘ope I taught ye something in the rookeries. It might not ‘ave been all luck.”
“You taught me everything I know,” he said.
She pursed her lips. “Ye learned a few things on yer own.”
“Oh? And what might those be?” He slid his hands from her waist up to her breasts and cupped them.
“I can ‘ardly think when ye do that.” Her voice was breathless, and he liked it that way. He kissed the valley between her breasts and slid a hand between her legs. She was wet for him, and the feel of the moisture there made his cock come to attention. If Jenny really thought this was the last time, she was fooling herself. And he knew she was no fool.
Before she could come to her senses, he rose, reversed positions, and pushed her back on the bed. Then he knelt between her legs and kissed his way from her ankle to that part of her that was warm and aching for him. When he’d teased her to climax, he turned her over, lifted her hips, and drove into her. She cried out with a yes so loud he was afraid the other tenants might bang on their door. At the moment, he didn’t care. He drove deep into her as her muscles contracted from the last of her orgasm. When he came, he pulled out and spilled his seed outside her. He wanted her, but he wouldn’t cheat to have her. If they decided to have a child, they would decide it together, not because he betrayed her trust.
Aidan bent to catch his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. He’d never once thought of being a father before. What the hell was Jenny doing to him?
Jenny rolled over on the bed and looked up at him, then opened her arms. Aidan forgot to worry about the new direction of his thoughts and went to her, sinking into the heat, scent, and sensations that could only be Jenny.
***
SHE KNEW SHE WAS DREAMING, but her feelings in the dream were as raw as the day she’d felt them. She’d sat on the roof—their roof—and watched him walk away. His words rang in her ears. “I’ll be back for you. When I make a name for myself. I’ll come back with fame and fortune, and I’ll take you out of here.”
The pain at seeing him go had cut her to the bone. She’d rolled into a ball when he was gone and sobbed for hours. She hadn’t eaten for days. She’d wanted to die.
And then she’d made herself stand up and do what she needed to do to survive. In the dream, she walked unseeing through the rookeries, alive physically but dead inside. That was how she’d felt for years—dead inside.
Jenny opened her eyes and tried to move. Aidan’s familiar and yet not-so-familiar weight was draped over her. One arm was over her waist and a leg thrown over her thigh. She felt wetness on her cheeks and realized she’d been crying in her dream and then in reality. When Aidan had left her, it had hurt more than anything else she had ever experienced. Her parents had beaten her, ignored her, and cursed the day she was born. But they’d never loved her, and their curses had meant nothing more than those of a shopkeeper who screamed when she stole a trinket and ran away.
But Aidan had loved her. And she’d loved him. If he could leave her, what did that say about her? The truth was something she didn’t like to acknowledge, but it was the reason for her tears now.
She was unlovable. No one would ever really love her.
Why was she putting herself in this position again? Hadn’t Aidan shown her once that she would never be loved? Did she need him to show her again?
She wriggled out from under him, slid off the bed, and grabbed a shift, pulling it over her head. Aidan burrowed deeper and muttered, “Too early. Come back to bed.”
“Get up,” she said and lit the lamp.
His eyes opened. “It’s not even dawn.”
She flung the bedclothes off him. “Get up.”
He pushed the hair off his forehead and squinted at her. “Where are we going?”
“Yer going ‘ome.”
“What’s wrong?” He moved toward the edge of the bed and reached for her, but she evaded his touch. “Jenny, what is this?”
“A mistake. I told ye the other night was the last time. This shouldn’t ‘ave ‘appened.”
“It did happen, and I suspect it will keep happening when we’re together.”
She tossed his breeches at him. “I know. That’s why this is good-bye.”
Aidan stood and shoved his legs into his breeches. “What did I do?”
“The little girl will ‘ear about yer offer and come find ye. Ye don’t need me for that. If Roland wants to keep rummaging in yer pantry, then that’s ‘is choice. I’ll not be coming to yer ‘ouse again. I’m marrying Roland, and that’s that.” She tossed his shirt and coat at him.
“Can we talk about this?” he asked, easily catching the garments.
“No. Get out.” She moved behind him and gave him a push out of her bedchamber.
“Jenny, I want—”
She jabbed him in the back with one of his boots. “Ye want wot? Tell me. Ye want to marry me? Yer married to yer money, Aidan.”
“I can change that,” he said, pulling his boots on. “If you give me a chance.”
“No.”
He looked up at her with those beautiful dark eyes. “So this is how it ends.”
“Yes.” This time I tell you good-bye. She raised her chin. “Good-bye, Aidan.” She marched to the door of her flat, opened it, and held it while he gathered the rest of his clothing and stepped into the corridor.
“Jenny—”
She closed the door, locked it, and walked away.