The Viscount's Rose(102)

By: Meara Platt

“Julian,” she said in a throaty whisper, her eyes as wild and beautiful as her glorious mane of golden hair that tumbled over her naked shoulders. She didn’t understand what was happening to her, only that his hands and lips were roaming everywhere on her body, guiding her with purposeful abandon to unexplored heights. He loved that she trusted him so completely, that she willingly followed wherever he led, that she trusted him enough to hold nothing back.

He watched in fascination as she responded to his touch with a passionate innocence that stole his breath away, that aroused him and left him as hard as a blacksmith’s anvil. He wanted to drive himself inside her willing body. He ached to feel her close around his throbbing member, but he wasn’t so far gone as to take that last, irrevocable step.

Not this time. Not while he held back secrets from her.

She dug her fingers into his shoulders and tossed back her head. Soft, breathy moans escaped her lips. She arched her back, allowing him unhampered access to every inch of her body, and then she shattered into a thousand pieces of splendor, a thousand sensations of delight. His heart swelled as he gathered her in his arms and held her close against his chest for an endlessly long moment, his feelings for this innocent so powerful they shattered the walls surrounding his heart.

Rose was now in his heart.

Irrevocably and permanently.

This was the Emory curse, to love once. To love forever. He’d chosen Rose.

But he was still on assignment.

How was he to keep Rose away from Valentina?

How was he to keep himself away from Rose?

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