By My Choice...: A Valentine's Day Story (Valentine's Day Stories) by Christine Blackthorn Read Free Book Online Page B

sorry, Milord. There is nothing I can say to make up for this, I have no idea what came over me.”  
    She only got this far in her apology, an apology she did not even understand how it could have been necessary, before he interrupted her:
    “I do.”
    It stopped her in her tracks, caught her fractured attention and held it. He did know. Now that she was setting all those tangled emotions of fear and anger, the mortification and, yes, the desire, aside she could see it, see the calculation, the need, the acceptance — and the pity in his eyes. It was that last emotion which gave her pause, which turned the mortification into new fury.
    “Then tell me!” Angry demand in every syllable. Screw dignified respect. She would not be pitied. The anger finally gave her the strength to stiffen her spine. She felt his sigh along the length of her whole body, held as she still was in his arms
    “I had hoped you would arrive earlier, that we would have more time for this but between Fabian’s reluctance to part from you and your own need to assert your independence we have barely over an hour to say all that needs to be said. And I fear it will be even less time as you seem to be feeling the effects already.”
    Jen almost thought she knew what he was talking about, almost could put together the illusive puzzle pieces which had tried to form a dim picture in her mind. But she knew he was wrong, knew that explanation for her state was impossible. Simply impossible. Everything she knew contradicted what he was hinting at — or did it? What did she remember from the vague stories and salacious myths told with abated breaths at the court of her childhood? She could not think, not with his arms around her, his hand stroking her cheek as if she were fragile, not with the way his body felt against hers.  
    “Let go of me, please.” Her voice was modulated to hold as much detached reason as possible. It had a strange effect on him, gentleness seemed to overflow in his eyes, a caress in its own right. His voice, when he spoke, vibrated through her, stroking along her nerves with tendrils of smooth silk.  
    “Little one, it will just get worse, if I do let you go.”
    She wanted to misunderstand what he meant, wanted it with every part of her being. And she would fight for every moment longer in which she could do so. She would not go gently into the night.
    “Let. Go. Of. Me.”  
    Enunciating each word with care she glared at him. He only smiled, those bewitching lips holding an expression too wistful for amusement, too wry for anything remotely comedic and by far too full of an emotion she was not willing to name; but in the end he let her go.  
    With a long kiss to her brow, more protective than sensual, he dropped his arms to step back. Immediately the pressure of sensation, of emotion returned — her body tightening under the burn, her mind reeling under the confusion. It took all her concentration to keep her mind from drifting, to ask the question she needed to ask. She let her anger speak.
      “Say it. Spell it out. Tell me exactly what is happening without prevarication and vague hints.”  

Unwilling

    She knew her rage to be a defence, but it was the only defence she had against what she feared he would say. Jen could not deny the rising tide of sensation overwhelming her anew. It was impossible to suppress, or filter the emotions running amok in her. She recognised even her anger as a symptom of the sudden lack of control reigning her body and mind. She was a boat on a tempestuous sea, battered and thrown rudderless from wave to wave. And she hated it.  
    Though no matter how much she hid behind the fear, she had reached the moment when lying to herself failed. Not even Jen herself could deny what lay beneath the fear, the anger, the confusion. Heat travelled along her skin and pooled between her thighs, her breasts felt sensitive, heavier than normal, swollen and tight. She felt her hard nipples scrape against