46. Love in the Moonlight

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How about if I just show you?

My own words, thrown back at me, echoed in my head like the harp of a fallen angel. Did he really mean what I thought he meant?

This can't be happening. Those words can't have come from the lips of Mr Rikkard Ambrose. He never wanted to before! He never...

But then a sliver of moonlight cut through the darkness, falling upon his stone-hard, serious face – and I knew. I knew I had heard right. I knew that those delicious words wouldn't be the only incredible thing to come tonight.

The backs of my legs hit the bed. Suddenly I was falling. The soft down engulfed me and I lay on my back, gazing up at Mr Ambrose towering above me.

'Lillian.'

My name on his lips was a plea. A command. It was everything and more.

Reaching up with one trembling hand, I touched his chest and licked my lips, tasting the unfamiliar word before I spoke it.

'Rikkard.'

He moved. Or did I? It was hard to tell when a moment later we collided with a force too great for any heart to survive. Clutching at each other, we rolled across the king-sized bed, hands tugging at each other's clothes, lips seeking lips.

This is crazy! This can't be happening! Not with Mr Rikkard Stone-Cold Ambrose!

But if this wasn't him and me, who then? Some strange doppelganger with a pounding heart alive with love? If so, who was the man above me? The stone-hard, powerful, perfect man whose hands were tearing at my clothes in a frenzy? Surely it couldn't be the one I truly wanted.

'Lillian!'

That voice, breathing my name...

His voice.

'Please!' And that had sounded like my voice. 'Please! I need you!'

Yes, it had really sounded like me. But I would never admit such a thing.

Then came the broken whisper out of the darkness:

'I need you too, Lilly.'

All right, that proved it. Whoever this was who was quickly and efficiently tearing off my clothing, it was not Mr Rikkard Ambrose.

Or at least that was what I thought until his lips brushed my ear and whispered: 'I love you.'

I shook under the force of those three words. Such unimportant words, my mind had always told me – until that moment. In that moment, my world shattered and reformed, and suddenly they were more important than anything else. More important than solid chocolate. More important than life. More important than my desire for a raise.

'Love you, too!'

There was that voice again, that voice sounding just like mine. But why did it sound so breathless? Maybe it had something to do with the mouth leaving a trail of burning kisses down my throat?

'Please, Sir... Please, now.'

'Yes.'

Strong, familiar fingers found the neckline of my dress, encountering resistance. A ripping sound came out of the darkness. Was he tearing off clothes? Was I? Was it a freak storm?

I didn't really care, because the storm of desire rising inside me was strong enough for both of us. The night around us was silent and black as pitch, but inside of me, a fire was burning, and the mingled sounds of our gasps fanned the flames with every breath we took. Cloth tore. Silk brushed my skin as my dress slid away to disappear, torn and discarded, into the shadows. Cool air tickled me and, instinctively, I pressed myself closer against him, feeling...

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