said,” Lara said tartly.
“That hasn’t changed. We’ve already discussed our Rom marriage and you know my position.”
Lara’s chin firmed. “I asked nothing from you.” Once she returned to her father, Drago’s name would never leave her lips. Only her heart would know her pain.
“I would never have taken you had I suspected you were innocent,” Drago continued. “I lost my head. You seemed so willing to …”
“I was willing.”
Drago’s head jerked up. “I was the experienced one. I should have known. I will never forget you, Lara. Were things different …”
“Things might be different if I weren’t a Gypsy,” Lara charged. “I can’t change what I am.”
“No, and I can’t change what I am.”
“How soon must you leave?”
“Tomorrow. What little walnut stain remains on my skin can easily pass as a summer tan. My responsibilities …”
“I don’t want to hear about them. Go if you must, I won’t stop you. Even Gypsies have pride.”
Lara thought she’d never seen anyone so torn.
“Try not to hate me, sweeting. Parting is not easy for me, either. I will always remember this time with you as an idyllic period in my life. Life has never been so simple or enjoyable.”
Is that all you can say?
Lara’s heart cried out.
“I want to make love to you tonight, Lara, but not if you don’t want it.”
Not want it?
She craved it, needed it. “I would like that, Drago. Just tell me one thing. Is there another woman in your life?”
The shadows in his eyes deepened. “Not anymore.”
Lara heard all she needed to know. Obviously Drago was one of those men who loved only once, deeply, with their whole hearts. No other woman could ever take the place of the one he lost.
She lifted her face. “Kiss me, Drago. Tonight you are mine. Look at me and tell me you are thinking of another woman when you make love to me.”
Drago joined her on the bed. “I think of no one but you, my Gypsy spitfire. Your scent, your taste, you arouse me beyond bearing.”
His strong hands cupped her face, bringing their lips together. He kissed her slowly, with such passion, such tenderness, that her eyes grew misty with tears. How would she exist without Drago? He deepened the kiss; his tongue plunged into her mouth, and the ability to think fled.
Excitement roared through Julian, as hot and intense as lightning. No woman had ever made his body sing and his blood thicken like his Gypsy lover. Kissing Lara was pure pleasure. Loving her was pure ecstasy. Leaving her was pure hell. If he wasn’t an earl he’d say to hell with propriety, to hell with society, and take her to London with him. People might think the very proper Earl of Mansfield had lost his mind, but he would be the envy of the
ton
.
His thoughts scattered when Lara slipped her fingers between the edges of his shirt. Her hands were warm and soft and infinitely arousing against his chest. He managed to get the front of his trousers undone and his shirt unbuttoned as her hands roamed over the muscular planes of his chest, down his stomach to his …
A groan of raw pleasure ripped from his throat when her fingers closed around him. He tore at her blouse, ripping it in his eagerness to render her naked. Clothes flew, mouths clung, hands explored. He skimmed a thumb across a taut nipple. He bent his head and took it between his teeth. Lara gasped; he felt her tremble. Julian knew she was as excited as he when she grasped his head and held it to her breasts. He sucked her nipples, savoring the gasping little moans escaping her throat, sadly aware that he would never hear them again after tonight.
She reached down and circled his staff, and Julian feared he’d spill his seed into her hand. He fought for control. Disgracing himself their last time together was not a pleasant thought. Briefly he considered taking her quickly, as his body demanded, but he swiftly discarded that notion. He turned her on her stomach and lifted her knees.
Lara gave
“That hasn’t changed. We’ve already discussed our Rom marriage and you know my position.”
Lara’s chin firmed. “I asked nothing from you.” Once she returned to her father, Drago’s name would never leave her lips. Only her heart would know her pain.
“I would never have taken you had I suspected you were innocent,” Drago continued. “I lost my head. You seemed so willing to …”
“I was willing.”
Drago’s head jerked up. “I was the experienced one. I should have known. I will never forget you, Lara. Were things different …”
“Things might be different if I weren’t a Gypsy,” Lara charged. “I can’t change what I am.”
“No, and I can’t change what I am.”
“How soon must you leave?”
“Tomorrow. What little walnut stain remains on my skin can easily pass as a summer tan. My responsibilities …”
“I don’t want to hear about them. Go if you must, I won’t stop you. Even Gypsies have pride.”
Lara thought she’d never seen anyone so torn.
“Try not to hate me, sweeting. Parting is not easy for me, either. I will always remember this time with you as an idyllic period in my life. Life has never been so simple or enjoyable.”
Is that all you can say?
Lara’s heart cried out.
“I want to make love to you tonight, Lara, but not if you don’t want it.”
Not want it?
She craved it, needed it. “I would like that, Drago. Just tell me one thing. Is there another woman in your life?”
The shadows in his eyes deepened. “Not anymore.”
Lara heard all she needed to know. Obviously Drago was one of those men who loved only once, deeply, with their whole hearts. No other woman could ever take the place of the one he lost.
She lifted her face. “Kiss me, Drago. Tonight you are mine. Look at me and tell me you are thinking of another woman when you make love to me.”
Drago joined her on the bed. “I think of no one but you, my Gypsy spitfire. Your scent, your taste, you arouse me beyond bearing.”
His strong hands cupped her face, bringing their lips together. He kissed her slowly, with such passion, such tenderness, that her eyes grew misty with tears. How would she exist without Drago? He deepened the kiss; his tongue plunged into her mouth, and the ability to think fled.
Excitement roared through Julian, as hot and intense as lightning. No woman had ever made his body sing and his blood thicken like his Gypsy lover. Kissing Lara was pure pleasure. Loving her was pure ecstasy. Leaving her was pure hell. If he wasn’t an earl he’d say to hell with propriety, to hell with society, and take her to London with him. People might think the very proper Earl of Mansfield had lost his mind, but he would be the envy of the
ton
.
His thoughts scattered when Lara slipped her fingers between the edges of his shirt. Her hands were warm and soft and infinitely arousing against his chest. He managed to get the front of his trousers undone and his shirt unbuttoned as her hands roamed over the muscular planes of his chest, down his stomach to his …
A groan of raw pleasure ripped from his throat when her fingers closed around him. He tore at her blouse, ripping it in his eagerness to render her naked. Clothes flew, mouths clung, hands explored. He skimmed a thumb across a taut nipple. He bent his head and took it between his teeth. Lara gasped; he felt her tremble. Julian knew she was as excited as he when she grasped his head and held it to her breasts. He sucked her nipples, savoring the gasping little moans escaping her throat, sadly aware that he would never hear them again after tonight.
She reached down and circled his staff, and Julian feared he’d spill his seed into her hand. He fought for control. Disgracing himself their last time together was not a pleasant thought. Briefly he considered taking her quickly, as his body demanded, but he swiftly discarded that notion. He turned her on her stomach and lifted her knees.
Lara gave
Similar Books
