Page 58 of The Duchess Debt

His gut tightened with aching desire, and his gaze trailed agonizingly back up her body. “I’m pretty certain I’m not supposed to seethiseither,” he muttered, arching a brow. “You need to go back to your own room.”

“And you need to learn that I’m not Clarissa.”

He stiffened, all except his heart, which continue to pound heated blood through his veins. “Believe me, Helena,” he rasped out as he turned toward the fire, putting his back toward her. “I know that.”

“I don’t think you do.” She paused, then ordered softly, “Look at me.”

Thatwas the last thing he needed to do. The image of her in that hint of lace had already been seared into his mind.

“Gabe.” She came up behind him and rested her hand in the middle of his bare back. The hard muscles quivered beneath her fingertips from the burn of her touch, bare skin to skin. “Lookat me.”

Hanging on to his restraint by a thread, he faced her.

“I’m not Clarissa.” She spread out her arms so he could take a long look at her, and God help him, he did just that, unable to help himself. She was simply glorious. “I would never hurt you the way she did.Never.”

His head knew that. But what his wounded heart felt was a different matter entirely.

“I amnotClarissa,” she repeated in a firm yet quiet whisper, then reached up to pull down the thin ribbon strap of her night rail and bared her creamy shoulder to his eyes. “And I plan on proving that to you.” When she did the same to the other strap, the low neckline of the bodice sagged slightly across the full swells of her breasts. Her nipples poked tantalizingly through the gaps in the lace, already drawn up into tight little nubs proclaiming her own desire. “In every way.”

He shook his head. “If you stay…” He bit down a frustrated groan and raked his fingers through his hair. “We’re not wedded yet.”

“But we will be soon.”

He clenched his jaw. They were supposed to have been married before, too, right up until the morning of the ceremony. They’d both learned the hard way that marriage wasn’t a certainty until vows were taken and the register signed. “And if you get with child?”

“There are ways to prevent that.”

“They’re not foolproof.”

Her eyes glistened in the firelight. “I understand all the possible consequences, and I accept them.” Yet her voice trembled, and he suspected she’d said that as much to convince herself as him. “I will admit that was why I didn’t come to your room before tonight, because I worried about that exact same thing, that once again before the wedding…” Her voice trailed off into a silent swallow.

“That I might leave you at the altar,” he finished quietly, yet the words were a brutal self-damnation.

“Yes.”

He slowly reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “I won’t ever do that again,” he promised and brought her hand to his lips to place a kiss to her palm. “I will never abandon you.”

“Because you have too much honor in you. You always have.”

Only Helena could turn that compliment into a condemnation. But he didn’t correct her. He couldn’t. She wasn’t wrong. That same honor had ruined his life.

“But I don’t want honor.” She brought his hand to her chest. “Tonight, I only want you.”

He caught his breath at the heaviness of her breast against his palm, of her hard nipple beneath the soft lace, of the tempting softness and inviting warmth of her. The gesture was both permission and a plea, yet the enormity of what she was offering shook him to his core.

“I want you to make love to me, Gabe,” she rasped out in an aching whisper. “I’m tired of waiting for your love.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Helena held her breath, waiting for him to say the words…I do love you. I always have and always will…

For a long moment, he didn’t speak, didn’t move, and a deep sadness swept over her because she knew in that terrible silence that he wasn’t going to say it. Instead, he tenderly caressed her breast and murmured, “I will make tonight perfect for you.” His thumb teased her hard nipple through a tiny gap in the lace. “I promise.”

Then he lowered his head to gently take her nipple between his lips.

She closed her eyes to focus on the feel of his warm lips on her breast and to force away her disappointment. He hadn’t said he loved her, and that lack of admission—again—was more painful than she wanted to admit to herself. But she could feel his love in his tender kisses and in the caring way his hands caressed her. He would show her his affection and love tonight in the joining of their bodies and souls, and she would let that be enough. For now.

She brushed her fingers through his hair in silent encouragement as he continued to lave at her nipple through the lace with his tongue and arched herself toward him. She wanted him tonight far more than just to prove that she wasn’t Clarissa. She simply wantedhim. Five years without him had been agony. After tonight, she would never have to be without him again.