Page 77 of The Spy’s Song

Yes, she thought. Yes, this, now, please—

He withdrew.

She made a sound she would not describe.

Then his palms settled on her hips. The full spread of his hands at the jut of her hipbones, his thumbs pressing into the small of her back, holding her.

Then his cock was at her entrance, and he pushed inside her slowly, his full length entering her by fractions until he was seated so deep she felt it in her sternum. She felt him in her chest. She felt him below the armor, where she had kept everything she could not afford to feel, and everything was very loud now, and she could not make it quiet.

"Look how well you play the part of the loving paramour," Rodrick murmured, his voice low and close.

Louise turned her head, half-blind with sensation. The mirror across the room caught everything. The curve of her back, her bare skin flushed and trembling, her arms bound behind her. She, kneeling on the bed, mouth parted, hair falling in damp waves across her shoulders. Completely at the mercy of Europe's most dangerous spy.

Rodrick stood at the foot of the bed, his shirt open, his hips aligned with hers, his body taut. His hands gripped her waist, his cock buried inside her to the root. A man who had waited a lifetime for the right to ruin someone gently.

He leaned forward, his chest pressing along her back, his body covering hers. He thrust slowly, heavy and deep, his breath warm against her ear. His gaze shifted to the mirror again. "You're beautiful when you lie."

She closed her eyes. It wasn't a lie. She was not that skilled an actress—never had been.

He gripped her hips, fingers digging into flesh, and drove into her with the force of a man past the point of restraint. Each thrust slammed her forward, the silk coverlet wrinkling beneath her, muffling her moans as they grew louder with every stroke.

She couldn't look at him anymore without everything leaking through her skin.

Then he stopped.

"I could torture you like this, Lou." His lips brushed her ear as he spoke. "I could deny your pleasure until you told me your secrets."

She cried out, raw and shaking.

He straightened, and the warmth of his chest left her back. Cold moved over the damp skin along her spine, and Louise's stomach dropped so sharply that her breath caught. He would abandon her like this. Kneeling and wanting and bound. She pulled against the neckcloth, and somewhere behind her the mattress shifted, and every muscle in her body tightened toward the sound. He was only a few feet away. Her body reacted as though the distance were already a departure. She felt tears moistening her eyes and blinked them back.

"Please," she whispered. "Rodrick. Please don't."

She heard him breathe behind her. Then his fingers touched the knot at her wrists. The linen loosened. Once around her wrists, then again, until the neckcloth slipped away.

Rodrick caught her when her arms fell forward, turned her in his hands, and brought her upright against him. Chest to chest.

"Silly princess." His mouth touched her temple. "Where exactly did you imagine I was going?"

He lowered her onto the mattress and followed her down. His weight settled between her thighs and his chest came against hers, warm skin to warm skin, until Louise could feel the rise of every breath he took. Louise opened her arms around him. Lady Vane could do that. A wife of three years would know the weight of her husband resting over her, would know where to put her hands without wondering whether she had earned the right. She slid one palm into his hair and smoothed the dark strands back from his forehead. Rodrick's eyes closed.

She had wanted to touch his hair before. She had wanted to know whether it was as soft as it looked, wanted to brush it away when it fell across his brow, wanted a hundred small liberties she had denied herself because small liberties were somehow more dangerous than nakedness.

So she took them now.

Her fingertips traced his temple. She kissed the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, then the scar that disappeared beneath his shoulder. Nothing Lady Trent could possibly find impressive. Louise simply wanted her mouth there.

He lowered his forehead to hers. His breath moved across her lips, uneven now, and Louise felt his heart beating against her breast—too fast for Edmund Vane, too hard for performance.

He entered her slowly, and then they were chest to chest, and she forgot she had ever been cold. She caressed his black hair with more gentleness than she had ever dared and kissed his shoulder. She placed her hands on his back and felt his muscles contract and release, and then followed the movement down to his buttocks.

Her mouth parted in a soft gasp as he thrust into her. He braced himself over her, one forearm beside her head, the other hand sliding beneath her knee to pull her open, to take her deeper.

Then he kissed her. His mouth claimed hers, his tongue pushed past her lips, and her name thrummed in his throat like a vow. The room fell away. The watchers dissolved. She forgot them all.

"I want to come inside you, Louise. I want to feel your pussy around my cock as my seed bursts." He leaned in closer, mouth at her cheek, his voice thick and shaking.

He pulled away and took the packet. Louise could not take her eyes off him as he ripped the paper and then, kneeling between her legs, covered himself with the sheath.