Chapter 49: Taken From Behind

The tension was a living thing between them. When he stopped in front of her, inches away, Evelyn had to tilt her head back to look up at him. His jaw was clenched, his eyes shadowed with something dangerous and warm.

"I've been thinking about you," he murmured. "Far more than I should."

Evelyn swallowed hard. "Why didn't you write?"

"I don't waste ink on feelings I don't understand."

It wasn't an apology, but something raw flickered in his voice. Before she could reply, his hand came up and threaded into her hair, tipping her head back. Then he kissed her slow and consuming.

The world disappeared.

She gasped softly against his mouth as he deepened it, his other hand gripping her waist, anchoring her to the solid line of his body. He kissed like he wanted to imprint himself on her tongue. As if restraint was the only thing keeping him from devouring her whole.

When they parted, he was breathing heavily. So was she.

His voice was hoarse. "Undress for me."

Evelyn's breath caught.

Her hands trembled slightly as she reached for the tie of her dressing robe. She looked at him then slowly slid it off her shoulders.

The garment whispered to the floor.

Underneath, she wore only a sheer chemise. Nathaniel's gaze swept over her like a touch. She stood there in candlelight, bathed in gold, the soft fabric clinging to the curves of her breasts, her waist, the shadowed dip of her thighs. Her skin was porcelain, flushed pink where the firelight hit.

His jaw tightened. He stepped forward, and with gentle fingers, pulled the thin strap from one shoulder. The chemise slid an inch, then another. Then it fell in a pool around her feet.

Nathaniel's breath hitched.

She stood there bare, vulnerable, yet unflinching.

"God," he murmured. "You're… maddening."

He reached for the necklace he gave her that wad lying on the vanity.

The emerald teardrop gleamed in his palm, surrounded by curling silver filigree. It shimmered like something born from moonlight and forest shadows.

He stepped behind her.

"I had this brought for you," he said, voice gravel-low. "Not because I had to… but because I wanted to."

She didn't dare move as he reached around her throat and clasped the necklace in place. The cool silver kissed her collarbone. His fingers brushed her bare skin as he adjusted it.

Then his hands didn't leave.

They traced her shoulders, her arms, her waist. He pressed forward until his chest met her back, and she felt the heat of him hard, wanting, restrained.

"I shouldn't want you like this," he murmured into her hair. "But I do."

Evelyn turned in his arms. "Then stop pretending."

He kissed her again hungry, searing.

This time, there was no going back.

They sank into the sheets like falling into stormwater. His mouth roamed her throat, her breasts, her stomach, worshiping each part of her like a sacred offering. She gasped his name when he lowered himself between her thighs, his lips and tongue learning her like scripture, like sin.

When he came back up, his eyes were glazed, lips swollen. She reached for him, pulling him close, desperate to feel him everywhere.

But he didn't rush.

Instead, he hovered over her, brushing hair from her face, and whispered, "Look at me."

She did.

And when he finally entered her, it was with a slow, deep thrust that made her cry out, her nails dragging down his back.

Their bodies moved like fire and storm heated, tangled, wild. Every kiss burned. Every thrust was a demand. And when they finally broke apart from each other, slick with sweat and trembling, the necklace still gleamed against her flushed skin, a mark of ownership.

The fire in the hearth had burned low, casting shadows that danced across the walls like restless hands. Evelyn lay tangled in the sheets, her chest rising and falling with slow breaths as Nathaniel's lips skimmed the curve of her neck, trailing down the slope of her shoulder with possessive heat.

"I want to see you in a different way tonight," he murmured, voice dark and hoarse.

Evelyn shivered. He wanted to do it again?

Nathaniel rose onto his knees, gently turning her over until she was on all fours; knees parted, back arched instinctively. Her breath hitched, her hands gripping the sheets. Heat spread across her face as her hair tumbled forward, hiding her burning cheeks.

She remembered. This position, she had seen it in that book. That damned book tucked between volumes of philosophy and poetry. The image had scorched into her mind: the woman knelt, open and exposed, the man behind her, gripping her hips as he drove into her.

She never thought she would be the woman in that image.

Yet here she was.

The thought sent a thrill through her body and a rush of shame to her face.

Nathaniel's hand slid up her spine in a slow, claiming stroke. "You remember, don't you?" he said lowly. "That book in my study. The one you weren't supposed to open."

Her heart thudded. She bit her lip, heat flooding her from the inside out. "You knew?"

"I know everything you touch," he murmured. "And I imagined this… the moment I saw your face after you read it. You were pink to your ears."

She moaned softly as his hands gripped her hips, thumbs pressing into the curves with authority. He leaned over her, lips brushing her ear.

"Now you'll feel it."

And then he entered her slowly, deeply from behind.

Evelyn gasped, fingers fisting the sheets. The sensation was overwhelming, the angle deeper than anything before. It wasn't just physical, it was emotional, raw, all-consuming.

His pace started slow, drawing back only to drive in again, his hips slapping softly against the curve of her backside. She whimpered, the friction intense and deliciously sinful. One of his hands slid around to tease her, his fingers stroking in rhythm to his thrusts.

"Tell me you like it," he whispered against her spine.

She nodded, unable to find words.

"Say it."

"I...I like it," she gasped. "God, My Lord…"

He groaned in approval and moved faster, his grip tightening as his control slipped. She felt him everywhere inside, behind, around her. Her body shuddered, hips pushing back to meet him without thought. The sound of their joining filled the room, the wet slap of flesh and breathless cries building into a symphony of lust.

His hand came to the back of her neck, holding her in place not rough, but grounding. Dominant. She arched harder under him, seeking more.

The pleasure crested inside her like a storm rising from the sea. Her cries turned ragged, her body tensing and then breaking. She came around him with a sob, her whole body trembling.

Nathaniel wasn't far behind. With a low groan, he thrust once, twice more, then stilled, his body pressed tight to hers as he emptied into her.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then he gently lowered her to the mattress, drawing her against his chest, holding her there as their breathing calmed.

"I've never…" she whispered, flushed and dazed. "I didn't know it could feel like that."

His lips found her shoulder. "With me, it always will."