Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“You’re right,” he said. “A shilling was an absurdly low price. If she weren’t so desperate to buy gin, my mother could have haggled for as much as a half crown.”
“I won’t listen to you speak that way.” Penny wrested the coin from his hand and tossed it on the ground.
“Oh, you will. You will listen, and you will hear.”
He grabbed her by the wrist and led her down a dark pathway scarcely wide enough for the two of them to walk side by side. When they’d reached a place out of view, he turned to her.
“Do not speak to me of homes or comforts or love,” he said through gritted teeth. “There is nothing the two of us could share. Nothing.”
“Why not?”
He tugged at his hair. “Look around you. We’re not in Bloom Square, Penny.”
“I don’t care whether you were born in a gutter or a palace, whether your mother was a beggar or a queen. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Perhaps it matters to me. Have you thought of that? You’re so enamored with the idea of deigning to be with a lowborn man, you haven’t stopped to wonder if I want anything to do with a highborn lady.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in class distinctions.”
“This isn’t a matter of different classes. We come from different worlds. When you were eating buttered toast and jam for your tea, I was starving. While your nursemaid was dressing you in crisp white pinafores, I went without shoes. While you had candles burning in every room, fires laid every night, quilts heaped atop a warmed bed—I shivered in the street, in the dark. Waking at the slightest noise, ready to flee at any moment. I couldn’t trust a soul in the world, and you’ve lived to the age of six-and-twenty believing every problem can be cured with a goddamned kitten.”
“I do not believe every problem can be cured with a kitten. I do believe in love. And perhaps love can’t cure every problem, but it makes the wounds heal a bit faster, with fewer scars. I understand why you don’t believe that. How could you, if you’ve never known it yourself? But perhaps you should give it a try. Let someone care for you, Gabriel. It doesn’t have to be me, but—” She broke off. “No. Forget that last. It does have to be me. I’m generous, but I’m not that generous. When it comes to this, I’m not willing to share.”
“Penny, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re on about.”
“I love you.” She exhaled in a huff. “There. Is that simple enough?”
Chapter Twenty
Simple?
Gabe stared at her. No, it wasn’t simple. It was incomprehensible.
“I love you,” she repeated.
“And what of it? You love everyone.”
“Not this way.” She reached for his hand and gave it a tender caress. “I love you.”
“Penny, stop.” Emotion held his throat in a vise. “You have to stop.”
“I don’t think I could if I tried. And I don’t want to try.” She brought his hand to her lips and kissed it.
Her gesture was wrong, so wrong. Gentlemen kissed ladies’ hands, not the reverse. And they most certainly didn’t do so in reeking, filthy slums.
His blood pounded at the door of his soul, and it would not be denied.
She kissed him first, bless her, moaning softly against his mouth, granting him permission to take control. He slid his hands to her backside and lifted, pushing her up against the brick wall.
“Here,” he rasped. “Now.”
“Yes.”
They raced for the same goal, her tugging at the buttons of his trousers, him hiking her skirts. By the time her touch skimmed the shaft of his cock, he was already primed and aching. When he slid two fingers into her wet heat, triumph surged through him.
Yes, she wanted this. She wanted him.
He withdrew his touch and brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean. God, she was sweet. And he was depraved, base.
She arched against him in a silent plea. He couldn’t wait another moment. Reaching between them, he took his cock in hand and guided it home.
She gasped as his first thrust sank deep. Her fingernails bit into the nape of his neck, making him wince with joy.
She came quickly, her inner muscles clenching into a slick fist. He thrust through every sharp, keening wave of her pleasure, shredding her frock to tatters against the brick wall. Sheathing himself to the crude, thick hilt. Faster, harder. Her soft, rhythmic sobs of passion mingled with his harsh, guttural sounds.
He was surely hurting her, and yet he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t even bring himself to slow down. If he paused for a single instant, the truth would catch up with him. He’d be forced to reckon with the fact that he was taking her in an alleyway like a whoring brute. And he’d be reminded, once again, that he didn’t deserve her—could never hope to deserve her.