The Trouble With Honor (The Cabot Sisters #1)

Even loved. Loved! God, he loved her, helplessly, completely. She shifted again, pressing harder against him, urging him to continue this extraordinary journey, to press inside her again. George cupped her face, wanting to look into her eyes as he pressed deeper. He could feel her body opening to him, could feel the seductive rhythm of an ancient, primal call. His breath ragged and torn, he began to move in her, sliding out to the tip, then sliding in again, and again, only more urgently.

She began to move with him, clinging to him, her fingers scraping down his back, digging into the flesh of his hip. He reached between their bodies and began to stroke the nub of her pleasure.

She was gasping for breath, pushing against his hand and his cock, her mouth on his chest. But she paused, and her fingers dug deeper into the flesh of his buttock; she gasped as her legs tightened around him.

George’s desire took on a new urgency; he pumped into her, wanting her to feel the violent shattering that was building in him. She cried out, her head dropping back, a swirl of dark hair covering her face as her body convulsed around his and she pressed against him.

With a low growl, he threw his head back on one last powerful thrust, burying himself deep inside of her, the moan of sheer ecstasy clawing its way from his throat, spilling hot seed inside of her.

The moment left him spent; he collapsed to the side of her, his arm draped over her middle, his face in her hair, fighting his way back from the fog of euphoria. It wasn’t until she traced a light line down his back and up again, that he lifted his head and looked down at her.

Honor’s cheeks were flushed, and she was, in that moment, as beautiful as any work of art George had ever seen. She turned her head slightly and opened her eyes with a gorgeously bright smile. She stroked his chin, brushed back his hair then peeled herself up to kiss him, her tongue teasing his, her lips wet on his.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

Her smile deepened, and she nodded. “I’m complete,” she said simply.

He wrapped his arms around her and marveled at the depth of his feeling. It was love, he feared. Real and true, raw love.

God, anything but that.

Anything.





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

HONOR FELT COMPLETE and invincible, as if she’d vaulted over a chasm. Her body was full of vigor. She was a bit sore, but she scarcely cared—it was an exhilarating soreness, and her heart... Dear Lord, her heart was heavy with adoration.

She lay on her side, her head propped in her palm, her finger tracing a path down George’s chest as he slept. She loved this man, loved him thoroughly. She loved the way he looked as he slept, his face free of tension. She loved the way his hand kept reaching for her, finding her, even while he slept. She loved the way he smiled, the way he’d looked at her as he’d entered her body....

A small clock on the mantel chimed, and through the dim light of a single candle, she squinted at it. It was four in the morning. In another hour, Hannah would come to wake Honor to begin preparations to leave Longmeadow. She had to leave this place of wonder, had to leave the bed where she’d found her heart’s true direction.

She leaned down, touched her lips to George’s nipple. As he stirred, Honor stood up and went in search of her clothes.

“Where are you?” he asked hoarsely.

“Here,” she said softly, and let her chemise slide over her head.

He came up on his elbows, blinking sleepily. He silently watched her dress until Honor donned her corset and presented her back to him to be laced.

George sat up and very deftly began to pull the strings of her corset. Honor couldn’t help but wonder how many times he’d done this very thing, had sent a woman along after making love to her. The thought sobered her; she finished dressing and turned to face him as she absently braided her hair.

George sat on the edge of the bed, completely nude, his gaze fixed on her face. “George? I—”

“No,” he said brusquely, lifting a hand. “Don’t speak, Honor. Don’t say aloud words or promises that neither of us can ever reach, or worse, ever forget.”

Honor blinked. “But I—”

He stood up, gathered her in his arms and kissed her. “Don’t speak, my love. There is nothing either of us can say that will change anything, is there? Let this night live in your heart, but God help me, please, don’t speak.”

She understood him.... At least she thought she did. To say words of love when one could not live in that love was too painful to endure, wasn’t it? But there was yet so much to say to him, so much she wanted him to know! She wanted to tell him he was the best man she’d ever known. She wanted to tell him she didn’t care about his humble beginnings.

But George turned her around and fastened the last few buttons of her gown before she could say them. He bent his head and kissed her neck. “I will never forget this evening, not as long as I draw breath, and I will cherish it always,” he murmured. “Go now, before you are discovered.”

Honor stumbled forward. She didn’t know how to argue with him, or even if she should. She only knew that her heart was filled with him, utterly and completely.