She began to sob, for she was hovering just on the edge, and this sweet, drawn-out pleasure was agonizing. “Yes, yes, I remember, Denys,” she sobbed. “Finish it. Oh, please, finish it.”
He kissed her mouth, hard, then he obeyed her frantic plea. His grip tightened, his fingers pressing hard against her buttocks as he brought her down to him, and he thrust upward.
She came in a rush so intense it made her dizzy, and her fingers clenched convulsively over the seat back as her body pulsed with wave after wave of pleasure.
Even awash in the sensations of her own climax, she knew he was close to his. “Come, Denys, come,” she begged, tightening her inner muscles around his shaft, working her hips to bring him to the peak. “Take your pleasure.”
With a hoarse cry, he let go of her hips, and his arms wrapped tight around her, as if even now, she wasn’t close enough. He buried his face against her neck, and his breathing was hot and quick against her exposed skin. A violent shudder rocked his body, he thrust into her twice more, and his body went rigid as the warmth of his climax pushed into her.
He relaxed against the seat, and she collapsed against his chest, her body still impaled, as she slid her arms around his neck.
His hand slid up her back, his fingertips caressed her neck. “I remember, too, Lola,” he murmured, and pressed a kiss to her hair. “I remember every moment.”
She closed her eyes, her cheek against the wet wool of his jacket, and she wished they could stay like this forever. The rain had stopped, and the only sound was the grating clatter of the growler’s wheels and the other carriages on the street. A moment later, the carriage turned, and Denys pulled back the curtain a bit to look out. “We’re on Charing Cross Road,” he told her. “Just past Soho Square. We’ll be at Trafalgar in a few minutes.”
Disappointment pierced her, for she knew they were almost out of time. She willed herself to pull back, easing away from him into the seat opposite, pulling down her skirts as he fastened his trousers, and she grimaced a little at the wetness between her legs, even as she longed to have him inside her again.
That, she told herself as she began refastening her garments, was a foolish thing to wish for. Everything that was true six years ago was still true and would always be true. This story, no matter how many times they relived it, would always have the same ending. And the same heartbreak.
Her hands began to shake, and when she tried to form the knot of her tie, she couldn’t seem to manage it. Her fingers fumbled, and she stopped, fighting back the sudden, stupid urge to cry.
“Allow me,” he said, and turned to kneel in front of her. Grasping the ends of her blue silk necktie, he began to form a four-in-hand knot.
He was so close that as he worked, she could feel his breath warm on her face. She lifted her gaze to his eyes, and though the light was dim, she could see their steady, dark brown depths. She wanted, so badly, to kiss him, but she couldn’t. That blissful moment had passed, and she knew it couldn’t come again.
“There,” he said. His fingers shifted the knot, settling it against her throat, but though his hands stilled, he did not pull away. He leaned forward, his forehead pressed to hers. “I want to stay with you tonight. Let me come to your room.”
“At the Savoy? Are you mad? It’s impossible to get you up to my room without being seen.”
He lifted his head, exhaling a sharp sigh, acknowledging the hazards of such a plan. “I suppose you’re right. Still . . .” He paused, toying with the lapels of her jacket, smiling a little. “There are other hotels. More discreet hotels.”
“And then what?” she choked, forcing out the words. “A discreet house? In a discreet neighborhood.”
His smile vanished. “No, actually. I’m thinking of a different sort of house.” His gaze was unwavering as it met hers. “A pretty little place in Kent called Arcady.”
She felt as if there were a fist around her heart, squeezing tight. “We’ve been through this before.”
“You mean, you have. I was never given the chance to air my views on the matter.”
“Talking about this won’t change it. I’m not the woman for you, and we both know it. Didn’t what happened this afternoon prove that?”
His palm tenderly cupped her cheek. “I think what happened this evening proved the opposite.”
Inside, she began to shake. She could feel hope rising, cracking her resolve, but she thought of what had happened earlier that day, of how it had felt to be in the glare of society’s hostile scrutiny, and she reminded herself that hopes about a future with Denys were futile. In the eyes of his people and the society he moved in, she was, and would always be, a slut. If she married him, the only revision of their opinion would be that she was a jumped-up slut. But she wasn’t the only one who would pay the price. “We lost our heads tonight and had a tumble. It’s hardly reason enough to join for life.”
“Is that all this was to you? A tumble?”
Another crack fissured her resolve, and she knew she had to get away from him before she broke completely apart, and her heart and her resolve were in pieces. Desperate, she reached up, tapping her knuckles hard against the roof of the carriage. “I won’t do this,” she said as the vehicle began to slow. “I won’t ruin your life again.”
“Lola,” he began, but she cut him off.
“You’ve repaired your relations with your family, earned their trust, and made good. I won’t destroy all that a second time.” She took a deep breath. “I’m no good for you, Denys. You need to stay away from me, and I need to stay away from you.”
“That’s going to be difficult, I’m afraid.”
It would be impossible, and she knew it. Looking at him, she knew that he knew it, too.
“You managed everything on your own before, and you can do so again. Make whatever decisions about the Imperial you like. I won’t fight you.”
“So that’s your answer? Running away again?”
That hurt, like the flick of a whip, but she couldn’t deny the pattern of her life. “I don’t want to run out on the play. If you and I can stay away from each other, I’ll be able to see it through to the end of its run.”
“And then?”
“And then . . .” Her voice wobbled, and she paused, swallowing hard, willing herself to remember the goal she’d set for herself long before she’d ever met him. “If I do well, I’ll be able to gain another dramatic role. Perhaps I’ll join a repertory company in the North—Manchester or Leeds. Or I may go to Dublin, or back to New York.”
“Still sounds like running away to me,” he murmured. “I see why you’ve had so many fresh starts. And what about what happened here tonight?” he added before she could respond. “You’re thinking we’ll just forget about it, I suppose?”
“Yes.” She managed to hold his gaze across the carriage. “We will.”
“I won’t forget, Lola,” he said. “I’ll never forget.”
The tenderness in his voice was almost her undoing, but she knew she could not destroy his life again. For the second time, she was in love with him, and for the second time, it was going to break her heart. She could already feel it happening. Not in a Paris dressing room this time but in a dingy growler on a London street.
The driver opened the door, but when he pulled down the step, Denys didn’t move to exit the vehicle.
“Go, Denys,” she said, striving to keep any hint of the pain out of her voice. “Please, just go.”