from his rapturous tongue.
His tongue flicked a spot that brought me to my toes. I was like a glass teetering on the edge of a shelf, about to break. I held his face in my hands as he looked up at me.
âTell me what you want, Helen,â he said. His breathing was shallow, his eyes glittering with desperate urgency. âBe certain.â
âDo not stop, not now.â I brushed my hand over his hair and he offered a wicked smile.
He stood and swiftly unfastened his trousers, shoving them to his feet. I stared in rapt fascination at his swollen member jutting toward me. Fear flashed in my mind, but I wanted this as I had never wanted anything before in my life. My eyes rose to his heated gaze.
Iâd never felt so reckless, so deliciously wicked. It was a powerful aphrodisiac. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he cupped my bottom, lifting me around his waist. His eyes held mine as he braced his hands against the wall and slowly entered me, hesitating when a gasp tore from my throat. The short pain gave way to a greater bliss and I welcomed the slick friction of our fused bodies.
âAre you all right?â he whispered, raking his mouth across the top of my shoulder.
âYes,â I sighed, beginning to move with his rhythmic thrusts. I held his face to my neck, pushing my motherâs scowling face from my mind, instead delighting in these new, wondrous sensations.
He straightened, repositioning himself, and thrust deeper, a possessive glint darkening his eyes.
âLook at me, Helen,â he said, his voice rasping from his throat.Sweat dripped from his brow, his breath hissing with each lunge. My body wound tight, my every sense sharpened. The thick scent of linseed and paint mingled with the drugging heat of the sultry summer evening. The flesh on my back stung where it rubbed against the plastered wall.
My control shattered and I gasped, quaking with unspeakable delight. I gripped his shoulders, hooking my legs firm around his waist. William panted hard with each thrust, driving impossibly deepâ
He shifted, and the movement increased the wave of tremors rolling through my body, unraveling me. His muscles bunched beneath my clinging fingers.
My name wrenched from his lips as he pushed into me thrice more, and with a shuddering sigh dropped his forehead to my shoulder.
A breeze wafted through the balcony doors, cooling our sweat-drenched bodies. I turned my eyes to the waning light outside, surprised by how different things looked. How my body was satisfied, but my heart was still uncertain. I did not expect false promises, or a proposal of marriage to amend our wanton lust. However, I was not prepared for the stark emptiness inside of me at their absence. My eyes were blurred with unshed tears. He leaned back, his eyes soft with concern.
âDid I hurt you?â he asked, kissing my forehead.
The juncture betwixt my thighs was sore. I offered a wobbly smile, memorizing the sensation of him still nestled deep inside me. âNo,â I answered shyly. How could I tell him that I would marry him this instant if he asked?
He eased away, holding me like a delicate vase.
âCareful,â he said with a quiet dignity. âYouâre all right, youâre sure?â
My flesh grew cold, and I wrapped my arms around myself, searching the floor for my clothes.
Without comment, he handed me my undergarments. I sensed his discomfiture through his formality.
âYes, thank you. Iâm fine.â My words sounded strange. I smiled, afraid to allow my true emotions to show.
His eyes met mine, and where I had seconds earlier seen concern, I saw little more than guilt. We dressed silently as if embarrassed by our impetuous actions. This behavior was new to me, as I suspected it may have been to him. Heâd called me Helen in the throes of passion, I realized. How should I address him now? The socially expected protocol of Mr. Rodin hardly seemed necessary now.
He was