When the overindulged son of a duke meets a feisty bohemian beauty, two opposite worlds collide. But it doesn't matter how ill-suited they are for one another, Aiden and Amalia can't prevent their feelings from growing.
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England, 1790.
Aiden La...
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Piano Sonata No. 8, Op. 13: II. Agagio cantabile, by Ludwig van Beethoven.
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Amalia's heart had doubled in size and was about to explode in her chest.
She loved this man with everything she had, and she felt like an idiot for resisting him for so long. As she was lying in his gigantic bed while he worshiped her like a goddess, she promised herself never to doubt him again. When he lifted his golden head, parting their lips, his icy eyes pierced through her, and she wondered what she had ever done to deserve him.
Impatient to consummate their love and offer him her body as she'd given him her soul, she noticed he was still dressed. The sudden urge to see him naked, as exposed as she was, overwhelmed her.
She tugged at his hands, still holding her wrists, trying to free herself. "I want to feel your skin against mine," she protested.
His pupils dilated, a perfect black circle surrounded by blue. A euphoric grin was plastered on his face when he moved away from her to stand in front of her at the foot of the bed. With rapid gestures, he got rid of his shirt.
Amalia sat up, her legs dangling over the edge of the mattress, one on each side of him. She examined his body, taking her time. She was used to seeing half-dressed men. The ones at camp never failed to remove their shirts during an arduous task. Even her brothers often did, sometimes in the hope of wooing women.
However, none of them looked like Aiden did.
He was lean, his torso was defined, and his hips narrow. His muscular chest was covered in light blond fuzz, darker than his hair. She dared to put her hand in the middle of it, grazing the sparse fur. There was a large patch over his chest, which then formed a line that went down his stomach to widen right before it disappeared under his pants, hanging low on his hips.
Feeling compelled to, she nonchalantly followed the trail, enjoying the way his muscles contracted at the light touch of her fingers. When she reached the barrier of his trousers, she lifted her gaze to meet his.
He was visibly struggling to contain himself, his jaw tense and his eyes darker than she'd ever seen them. With a wicked smile, she pushed two fingers down under the cloth. She barely had enough time to notice that the hairs became denser before he jerked her hand out. Consumed by need as much as she was, he pushed her back onto the bed.
