After Innocence (24 page)

Sofie was very tense and she leaned forward, shaking with the residue of her fear, until the fabric stretched over her breasts touched the hard wall of his bare chest. Edward inhaled, flinching. His skin was so hot, it seemed to burn her nipples right through the cotton nightgown.

“Edward?” She looked up at him.
“Please don’t reject me.
”

He stood motionless, staring into her eyes, shuddering. “Don’t do this, Sofie,” he finally whispered, wetting his
lips. “I can’t do this. I couldn’t live with myself afterward,” he said harshly.

He released her, and Sofie felt him begin to back away. She reached out, touched him. He froze and they both stared at her small, pale hand on his bare, bronzed skin. Sofie had never touched his naked flesh before. He was as smooth as velvet, but warm, hot. And hard. No one had ever told her a man’s stomach could be so hard.

Sofie’s glance strayed ever so slightly. There was a massive bulge in his trousers, the fine linen fabric delineating his engorged manhood as thoroughly as if he were naked. Sofie froze. She realized that the top buttons of his trousers were undone. Her behavior was far worse than shameless, and she knew she should remove her hand, and her gaze, but she did not. She could not.

“Oh, God,” Edward said, choked. “Oh, dammit,” he cried. And his arms closed around her.

The devil in him was elated, the saint all but gone.

Abruptly he had her in his arms, was carrying her to the bed. Edward had ceased thinking—did not want to mink. If he did, the saint would come back, ruining it all.

And it was impossible to think now. Edward dipped Sofie onto the bed, her long golden hair flowing over his hands like rippling skeins of silk. Edward straddled her, for just a moment overwhelmed by her beauty, while painfully aware of the close-to-bursting pressure in his loins—and in his chest.

He moved his arms underneath her, lifting her slightly—their gazes met.
“Sofie.”

Her lips parted, her eyes shone.
“Edward.”

And Sofie smiled. Edward felt his heart twist hard. Something strong and bright and irrevocable rushed through him—like a new life force—an emotion he could not stop to identify. Not now.

A second later they were both frantically entwined. Edward parted her lips instantly, urgently, forcing his tongue deep into her warmth. He spread her legs, nested his huge phallus there. He sucked her lips, tangled with
her tongue, probed deep. Helplessly he rocked his massive loins against her, again and again.

And Sofie responded immediately to him. The strokes of her tongue against his were timid and unsure at first, but swiftly she began to spar with him, adept and bold. Their mouths fused, tongues entwined. Edward had the wild urge to rise up over her, show her how to flick her tongue over the plum-like head of his manhood.

But this was Sofie, beautiful, sweet Sofie, and he would not use her like that. Burying his face in her hair, Edward froze, panting, cursing the saint that lived within him who still tried to interfere, to deny him this woman he loved. But his loins were the tool of the devil, not to be denied, not anymore. He could not bear the pressure there, made all the worse because Sofie’s soft hips were undulating in a rhythm of seduction and desire as old as time.

Edward emitted one last sob like gasp, slid his hands under her nightgown, and clasped her bare buttocks, pulling her even more closely against his erection. Abruptly he yanked the nightgown out from between them, rubbing himself against her soft naked sex. His linen trousers were still a barrier between them, but the fabric was so fine, it was as if it were barely there.

Sofie whimpered in his ear, clutching his shoulders. She mewled again, and this time her nails were like a kitten’s small, sharp claws, kneading his flesh without quite pricking it. The hot, soft center of her undulated more insistently against him, and she began to emit soft, breathy little sounds of urgency and distress.

Edward gripped her face between his large palms. Their-gazes met, hers bright and feverish. “I can’t stop,” he whispered. “Oh, Sofie, how I want you! How I need you!”

She cried out and gripped his hands as he held her face, and strained to meet his lips.

Their mouths fused. This time Edward sucked her tongue into his mouth, deep. He could not stand it. Abruptly he tore himself free, then raised himself onto his knees, straddling her. He fumbled with the buttons to her bodice, exposed her soft, white breasts. Their gazes met again.

“Oh, Sofie,” Edward groaned, “You are so beautiful!”

Sofie half laughed and half sobbed.

Edward touched her, held her, closed his eyes, groaned.

He bent and touched his tongue to her distended tips, one by one. Sofie began to squirm and gasp. Her nails dug into his shoulders again. Small cries of breathless excitement escaped her.

When he paused he was breathing hard, on the verge of exploding again. Edward sucked in air. Sweat poured down his face and chest.

“Edward,” Sofie moaned.

He opened his eyes and saw that she was staring feverishly at him, gripping his wrists. Then he realized that she stared at the rigid line of his manhood, straining against his thin trousers. Edward was not wearing his drawers. He realized that, as wet as he was, she could see through his pants, and that because the top two buttons were undone, an inch of his heavy red flesh was exposed.

Their gazes met, Sofie whimpering and wetting her dry lips. Edward bit back his own harsh groan as he pressed her small, delicate palm against his thickly swollen penis. Sofie gasped and became utterly still.

Abruptly Edward lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it hard. “Forgive me,” he cried, and he slid down her body, running his hands up her soft thighs, pushing them wide apart. Sofie cried out, not in protest, but in sexual distress.

“You are so damn beautiful,” Edward moaned, kissing her navel.

Sofie jerked, crying out. Edward heard himself laugh, shaky and exultant, the sound heavy with raw male excitement. His thumbs flicked over her honey-colored hair. Sofie gasped again.

“Sofie,” he whispered harshly, sliding his hand fully over her. He touched the seam of the heavy, warm folds he was searching for. “Darling.”

She froze, but only for a heartbeat. Then she began to undulate shamelessly. “Edward!”

“Yes, darling,” he coaxed, parting those swollen lips. He watched her face intently as his thumb slid up against the swollen, nervelike center of her sex. She gasped, arching up beneath him.

“Yes,” Edward murmured thickly, kissing the inside of her thigh, rubbing the small quivering organ of her sex.

“Edward!” Sofie thrashed.

He grunted, pressing a kiss to the cleft there, then slid his tongue along the throbbing seam. Sofie jerked beneath him. He tested that cleft again. Sofie moaned. He inserted his tongue into the small valley and was rewarded with her loud gasp of pleasure. Edward began to lave and suck her flesh, to circle the distended tip of her with his tongue. Sofie gripped his hair spasmodically, starting to gasp and shake, and then she began to keen in helpless abandon.

Edward cried out, moving over her, watching her exquisite face while tearing open his trousers. Through the thick haze of desire, it crossed his mind that it must not come to this. Too late, his mouth found hers while he pushed himself inside of her.

Sofie gasped.

Edward gasped too, shocked by the tight, heated, intensely exhilarating feel of her. He froze, panting hard, then raised himself up to gaze into her face. Her eyes were wide, still dazed with rapture, and so blindly trusting—so openly loving. “Edward,” she gasped, gripping him tightly. “Oh, Edward—darling!”

He kissed her with all the explosive emotion he was feeling, swiftly finishing what he had begun and plunging through her virgin membrane. His kiss smothered her small cry of pain. Edward drove deep and deeper still, needing to be buried inside her as far as possible, forever. There he paused, for one instant, shuddering with profound pleasure and an awareness he had never had before in such a moment of total ecstasy—an acute awareness of every exquisite facet of the woman he was united with.

Edward began to peak. He ground his teeth, buried his face against her neck and wrapped his arms around her, and clamped down hard on his own need to ejaculate. He wanted to take her soaring to heaven with him. It was too late. He sobbed. He exploded.

For a while he drifted, far above the earth. When he came to his senses, he felt her hand stroking his hair at his nape.
Their bodies were entwined. Sofie was soft and warm and silken against him. Pain stabbed so piercingly through his chest that for an instant he wondered if it was physical and he was having a heart attack.

Oh, God—what had he done?

He heaved himself off of her, rolling onto his back.
You bastard,
a voice inside him growled.
You lousy, no-good bastard!

He felt her him to face him. She touched his hair again, his back. He was rigid. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. Sofie caressed his shoulder, and it was somehow far more exquisite than all that had passed before. He could feel how much she loved him. He was sick.

“Edward?”

Any and all sense of elation was gone. How could he face her? How could he face himself?

But he did turn to face her.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered, her eyes wide, glowing. She smiled a woman’s smile of utter satisfaction and profound amazement. “I had no idea.”

Somehow, he managed to smile back. But he knew he hadn’t done a very good job of it, because her own smile died a little.

“Edward?” She leaned over him, some of her hair falling onto his chest. Her bodice was open, and her high, round breasts swung forward slightly. They were blotchy from where the day’s growth of his beard had scratched them.

His mouth turned down, for his groin was thickening yet again. He looked at her face. Her mouth was red and swollen from his kisses. He finally met her gaze.

“Edward? Is something wrong?” She trembled, the question there in her eyes, and with it, the fear.

He was not going to hurt her. Edward knew it, then and there. That knowledge took away some of the brutal cutting edge of shame and disgust. Edward sat up and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. It was difficult to speak naturally, to keep his feelings hidden. “No, Sofie. Everything’s fine. Just fine.”

He pressed her face to his chest, cupping the back of her
head, his fingers tangled in her wavy gold-streaked hair. And Edward closed his own eyes in abject despair. He had betrayed her trust in him, betrayed her faith. Edward wondered how there could be so much pain where there had just been so much pleasure.

S
ofie knew something was wrong and she clung to him, her face buried against his chest, already terrified of what might happen next. It had been clear to her almost immediately that Edward was upset, not at all as thrilled as she was with all that had just happened. Sofie reminded herself that she had forced the situation, that, in effect, she had seduced him.

Gently Edward moved her face from his shoulder, set her aside from him, and got up.

Sofie dared to turn and look at him, her heart sinking. His expression was so somber, so grim. Realizing her bodice was open, she fumbled with the small buttons. “Edward?”

His smile was clearly forced. “In a moment, Sofie.” Edward disappeared into his own room, adjusting his trousers as he did so.

Sofie fought panic and the threat of tears. There was a huge bubble in her chest, trying to choke her, and she fought that, too. She checked to make sure her nightgown covered her legs, and more important, her ankle, which it did. She clasped her hands in her lap and waited for him to return.

It was astounding, she thought bleakly, that one partner could feel such love during lovemaking, and that the other partner did not. She hadn’t considered it might be like that, and now it was too late. She quickly swiped at a tear.

Edward returned to stand in the doorway, wearing his shirt, which he had buttoned from top to bottom but left hanging over his trousers. It was a funny sight, but Sofie could not smile, because there was nothing at all humorous about his expression or about the very pregnant feeling of
this moment. She met his gaze. “Edward? Is … is something wrong?”

This time he made no attempt to smile. His eyes were so grave that she was chilled with fear.

“I owe you an apology,” he said slowly, as if choosing his words with care. “Sofie, this should not have happened.”

Sofie stared. Was he telling her that he regretted their glorious lovemaking? But how could that be even remotely possible? Surely the desire that had raged between them was extraordinary? Or was it very ordinary, a desire he had experienced a thousand times before with other women, and would experience a thousand times again—with others?

He shifted. “An apology sounds trite, considering what we just did.” He flushed then, to the roots of his dark hair. “What
I
just did.”

Sofie shook her head in negation. “No,” she whispered. “You do not need to apologize.”

“Sofie, I’m sorry. I am very sorry. You did not deserve this.”

Sofie’s eyes filled with tears and she looked away so he would not see, fighting for control. When she had regained some small portion of it, she met his gaze. “I wanted this, Edward. Please, you need not castigate yourself so. I am a grown woman, capable of making my own decisions.”

“Don’t cry,” he said harshly. “God, the last thing I want to do is make you cry.” He forced a smile and swiftly approached, sitting beside her and taking her hand.

Sofie wanted to leap into his embrace and hold on to him for her dear life, but she held back. She did not want to make this moment worse than it already was.

Very gravely he asked, “Will you marry me, Sofie?”

Her eyes widened in shock.

He smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. “That didn’t seem very romantic, did it?” His tone was light. He tipped up her chin and nudged her lips with his. When Sofie did not respond, he began to kiss her with real, persuasive power.