Dreaming of You

“For making me want you until I ache with it. For the way I wake at night just to watch you sleeping.” His face was intense and passionate above her, his green eyes harsh in their brightness. “I want you more each time I’m with you. It’s a fever that never leaves me. I can’t be alone without wondering where you are, when I can have you again…” His lips possessed hers in a kiss that was both savage and tender, and she opened to him eagerly.

She’s mine, he had said…and her heart had throbbed in answer…recognizing it as truth.

But Sara saw Derek for exactly what he was, no more and no less, and she was aware that he might never change. It was enough that he loved her. In spite of his faults, he would take care of her and defend her to the last breath of life. Separately they had different strengths. Together they were complete.

His hands gripped her closer, and they both began to breathe harshly. The hard jut of his arousal burned against her stomach. “That’s for you,” he muttered. “Only for you.” He groped for her wrist and brought her palm to his chest. Even through the thickness of linen, broadcloth, and wool, she could feel the resounding thump of his heart.

I want to hold you like this until your skin melts into mine. I want you in my bed, the smell of you on my sheets, your hair spread across my pillow. I want to take your innocence. God! I want to ruin you for anyone else.

He was so far from the gallant knights in her romantic fantasies…He was tarnished, scarred, imperfect.

she would smile privately at the thought that she had once been kissed by the most wicked man in London.

She was beautiful. He could have devoured her in a few bites, like a fragrant red apple. He wanted to touch her, take her somewhere and pull her beneath him, as if he could somehow erase a lifetime of sin and shame within the sweetness of her body.

Beneath that quiet surface is a stubborn and secretive nature

“I’m always writing about the things other people do. Sometimes I’m desperate to live, to have adventures and feel things, and—” She broke off and made a face. “I hardly know what I’m saying. What must you think of me?”

“I think,” Worthy said with a smile, “that if you long for adventure, Miss Fielding, you’ve made quite a start tonight.”