Chapter 7: The Midnight Visit
The manor had settled into that deep, breathless quiet that comes only after midnight, when even the servants have retreated to their quarters and the house itself seems to hold its breath. The corridors were dark, lit only by the occasional guttering candle that cast long, dancing shadows across the wainscoting. Jennie moved through them like a ghost, her bare feet silent against the cold marble, her white nightgown catching the moonlight as she slipped past the portraits of stern-faced ancestors who seemed to judge her with every step.
Her heart hammered against her ribs so violently she was certain it would wake the entire household.
She had waited until the last candle had been extinguished. Waited until she heard Kai's footsteps retreat down the east wing, until Lady Manoban's door clicked shut, until the servants' quarters fell silent. Only then had she risen from her own bed, her body vibrating with a nervous energy she couldn't quite name.
The door to his room was slightly ajar, a sliver of golden light spilling into the dark corridor. She pressed her palm against the wood and pushed.
Leonid lay propped against the pillows, a dog-eared novel open in his hands, his brow furrowed in concentration. But the moment she crossed the threshold, he closed the book, his dark eyes finding hers with an intensity that made her breath catch.
"You came," he said, his voice low and rough, as if he'd been waiting for her to change her mind.
"I said I would."
"You could have changed your mind." He set the book aside, his gaze never leaving hers. "Plenty of time between then and now to come to your senses."
"Is that what you wanted me to do?" She stepped closer, the floorboards cool beneath her bare feet. "Come to my senses?"
"No." The word was almost a growl. "I wanted you to come to me."
The space between them seemed to shrink with every word, charged with something electric and inevitable. The candle on the nightstand flickered, casting shifting shadows across his bare chest, illuminating the bandage that still wrapped his shoulder.
"Your wound—"
"Fuck the wound." He reached out, his fingers wrapping around her wrist with a grip that was surprisingly strong. "It's been three days, Jennie. Three days of lying in this bed, staring at the ceiling, counting the hours until you walked through that door."
"Leonid—"
"I've been going mad." His thumb traced circles against the delicate skin of her inner wrist. "Every time you left, I felt like you took a piece of me with you. Every time you touched me, I wanted more. Every time you looked at me with those eyes—those godsdamned eyes—I wanted to—"
He stopped, his jaw tightening.
"Wanted to what?" she whispered.
Instead of answering, he pulled her down onto the bed.
She landed beside him with a soft gasp, the impact sending a jolt through her body. Before she could react, he had shifted, his body looming over hers, careful to keep his weight off his injured shoulder. The intensity in his eyes was almost feral, his pupils blown wide, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts.
"I've wanted this," he said, his voice barely above a growl, "since the day I saw you under the oak tree."
She remembered that day. The summer sun, the dappled shade, the way his eyes had found hers across the lawn while Kai read poetry aloud, oblivious to everything but his own voice. She had felt it then, that spark of recognition, that instant knowledge that this man would be her undoing.
"You were reading," she breathed. "No—not reading. You were pretending to read, but you were watching me. All afternoon you watched me."
"You wore a yellow dress." His hand came up to trace the line of her jaw. "It was the color of sunshine, and you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. And I knew—I knew you were my brother's betrothed, I knew I had no right—but I didn't care. I couldn't care. I wanted you, and I knew I would always want you."
His mouth crashed against hers.
The kiss was not gentle. It was desperate, hungry, consuming. His lips bruised hers with the force of his need, his tongue demanding entry, sweeping into her mouth with a possessiveness that made her moan. She tasted him—warm, masculine, faintly of the tobacco that still clung to his skin despite his injury—and she felt herself drowning.
She pulled back, gasping for air. "You're hurt. Your shoulder—"
"To hell with my shoulder." He captured her lips again, his hand sliding into her hair, tilting her head back. "I've spent three days imagining this, Jennie. Three days of lying here, thinking about what I would do if you ever came to me like this. I'm not going to waste it worrying about a godsdamn wound."
His mouth trailed down her throat, hot and demanding, and she arched into him, her fingers finding purchase in his dark curls. The sensation of his lips on her skin was overwhelming, each touch spiraling through her like sparks from a fire.
"Tell me you want this," he murmured against her collarbone. "Tell me you want me."
"I want you." The words came out breathless, desperate. "I've wanted you since that day under the oak tree. I've wanted you every time you looked at me across the dinner table, every time your fingers brushed mine in passing, every time you smiled at me like we shared a secret."
He lifted his head, his eyes blazing. "There's so much I want to do to you. So many things I've imagined."
"Then do them."
A growl rumbled in his chest, and he captured her mouth again, more demanding than before. His hand found the hem of her nightgown, sliding beneath the fabric, his fingers blazing a trail up her bare thigh. She gasped against his lips as his hand reached the junction of her legs, his fingers teasing the sensitive skin there.
"You're already wet for me," he observed, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Soaking wet, just from a few kisses."
"Leonid, please—"
"Please what?" His fingers found her swollen clit, circling it slowly, deliberately. "Please touch you? Please fuck you? Tell me what you want, sunshine. Say the words."
She whimpered, her hips bucking against his hand. "I want you inside me. I want to feel you."
"Good girl." He kissed her hard, his fingers plunging into her wet heat, pumping in and out with a rhythm that made her see stars. "But I want to taste you first. I've been thinking about that pretty cunt for three days. I want to feel it on my tongue."
Before she could respond, he was moving. His body slid down the bed, his hands parting her thighs, and then his mouth was on her—hot, open, insatiable.
The first stroke of his tongue against her clit sent a tremor through her entire body. A strangled cry escaped her lips, quickly muffled by her own hand as she remembered the servants sleeping down the hall. But Leonid was relentless, his tongue circling her bundle of nerves with a skill that made her toes curl, his fingers still pumping inside her, curling to hit that spot that made her see white.
"Oh gods—" she gasped, her hips rocking against his face. "Leonid—that's—"
He hummed against her, the vibration pushing her closer to the edge. His free hand pressed against her stomach, holding her down while he devoured her. Her thighs trembled around his head, her fingers twisting in the sheets, her breath coming in ragged sobs.
"Come for me," he murmured against her slick flesh. "I want to taste it. Give it to me."
The words broke her. Pleasure crashed over her like a wave, violent and overwhelming, her body convulsing as she bit down on her knuckles to stifle her scream. He drank her in, his tongue lapping at the evidence of her release as she shuddered through the aftershocks.
When she finally opened her eyes, he had moved back up the bed, his mouth glistening, his eyes dark with hunger.
"Your turn," she whispered, reaching for the waistband of his breeches.
He caught her wrist. "I'm not going to last long." His voice was strained, the words tight with barely leashed control. "I've been thinking about this for days. Weeks. Years, Jennie. The moment I get inside you, I'm going to—"
"Then stop thinking." She pulled her hand free and pushed at his breeches, her fingers finding the buttons. "I want you now. I want you to fuck me until I can't remember my own name."
The words seemed to strip away whatever restraint he had left.
He tore at his remaining clothes, then at hers, pulling the nightgown over her head with an urgency that bordered on violence. The cool air hit her exposed skin, but the heat of his gaze burned away any chill. He laid her bare before him, his eyes roaming over her body like a man dying of thirst.
"Beautiful," he breathed. "You're so godsdamn beautiful."
His hand moved between them, wrapping around his length, and she finally saw it—thick and long and straining with need, a bead of moisture glistening at the tip. She reached out to touch him, wanting to feel that heat in her hands, but he moved aside, positioning himself between her thighs.
"Not yet." His voice was ragged. "I need to be inside you. Now."
He notched himself at her entrance, the broad head of his cock pressing against her slick folds. Her breath hitched as he pushed forward, just the tip, just enough to make her feel the fullness, the stretch. Then he surged, and he was inside her to the hilt.
They both gasped.
"Fuck—" He dropped his forehead to hers, his eyes squeezed shut. "You feel— God, Jennie, you feel like heaven."
She couldn't speak. He filled her so completely, so utterly, that she felt him in her bones. Her walls stretched around him, gripping him, welcoming him. This was where he belonged. This was always where he had belonged.
He began to move.
The rhythm was slow at first, each thrust deep and deliberate, dragging against her walls in a way that made her see stars. He propped himself on his forearms, careful to protect his injured shoulder, his hips setting a pace that was measured, torturous.
"Look at me," he commanded softly. "I want to see your eyes when I make you come."
She obeyed, her dark eyes meeting his. The connection was visceral, intimate in a way that stripped her bare. He moved inside her, each stroke hitting deeper, and she felt herself climbing toward another peak.
"Faster," she begged. "Please, Leonid—"
He gave her what she wanted. His pace quickened, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, his breath hitching with every penetration. The bed creaked beneath them, the sound mingling with their harsh breathing and the wet slap of their bodies meeting.
"That's it," he growled. "Take all of me. Fucking take it."
She arched against him, her nails raking down his back, and he hissed at the sting. His hand slid between them, his thumb finding her clit, and she shattered again, her inner walls convulsing around him.
He followed her over the edge with a guttural groan, his hips slamming into her as he spilled inside her, his body shuddering with the force of his release. For a long moment, neither of them moved, suspended in the aftermath, their bodies intertwined in the flickering candlelight.
Finally, he collapsed beside her, pulling her against his chest, his hand smoothing back her tangled hair.
"Je nnie," he murmured against her skin. "God, what have you done to me?"
She smiled, her eyes still hazy with pleasure. "The same thing you've done to me, I imagine."
He laughed, the sound low and warm. "We're damned. You know that, don't you?"
"I've known that since the oak tree." She pressed a kiss to his chest, just over his heart. "I just didn't care."
His arms tightened around her. "What happens now?"
"Now?" She closed her eyes, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. "Now we take what we can, for as long as we can. And we hope the dawn never comes."
But dawn always comes.
In the distance, a cock crowed, and the first pale fingers of light began to creep through the window. Leonid's embrace tightened, as if he could hold back the sun with nothing but his will.
"Stay," he whispered. "Just a little longer."
"I'll stay until I have to go." She pressed her lips to his, soft and lingering. "And then I'll come back tonight. And every night after that."
"That's not enough."
"No." She looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "But it's all we have."
She rose from the bed, gathering her discarded nightgown, slipping it over her shoulders. At the door, she paused, looking back at him—his dark curls mussed, his chest bare, the evidence of their love still glistening on his skin.
"I love you," she said. "I've never said that to anyone before. But I love you, Leonid."
He held her gaze, his expression raw with emotion. "I love you, too, sunshine. More than I've ever loved anything in this world."
She turned and slipped through the door, her eyes burning. She had promised to return tonight, and she would. She would return every night until this fragile, stolen happiness shattered around them.
But as she made her way back to her empty bed, she couldn't shake the feeling that the sun wasn't just rising.
It was burning down.