Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

J onathan's jaw tightened as he watched Ciara and Lord Prescott twirl across the dance floor.

The sight of another man holding her, making her laugh, and sharing a moment that should have been theirs filled him with fierce, unfamiliar jealousy. His eyes followed every graceful movement, every smile she bestowed upon Lord Prescott, and it gnawed at him relentlessly.

"Careful, Jonathan," Hector's voice broke through his thoughts, laced with a teasing edge. "Your jealousy is showing."

Jonathan snapped his head towards Hector, his eyes blazing. "I'm not jealous," he growled, his tone betraying his words. "I simply don't trust that man."

Hector raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at his lips. "Really? Because it looks like you're about to march over there and challenge him to a duel."

"Careful, old boy," Jonathan snapped, his fists clenching at his sides. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

Although Jonathan would never usually talk to Hector like that, it was obvious that Hector could immediately see what was happening. As with every best friend, he knew not to take it personally, and instead, he kept turning the mirror of self-realization in Jonathan's direction, so he himself could see what was truly happening to him.

Hector chuckled, unfazed by Jonathan's anger. "Oh, I think I do. It's written all over your face. You can't stand to see her with another man, can you?"

Jonathan's glare could have melted steel. "I'm warning you."

Hector held up his hands in mock surrender. "All right, all right. No need to bite my head off. But for what it's worth, you should talk to her instead of pushing her away. You're only hurting yourself."

Jonathan didn't respond, his gaze returning to Ciara. The dance was ending, and she curtsied gracefully as Lord Prescott bowed. The sight of her, so poised and elegant, only intensified the ache in his chest. He knew Hector was right, but his pride and fear of vulnerability held him back.

But then, he reminded himself that she was his wife. His .

The moment the music ended, and Ciara moved away from Lord Prescott, Jonathan couldn't contain himself any longer. He crossed the room with determined strides, reaching her just as she was about to rejoin Adeline.

Without a word, he discreetly took her arm and guided her towards a quiet corridor, away from the prying eyes and curious whispers of the ballroom.

"What on earth do you think you are doing?" she hissed quietly, through clenched teeth. "Unhand me!" Her voice was low and furious as they reached the secluded corridor.

He spun around to face her, his eyes blazing with emotion he couldn't contain any longer. "No, I will not! What were you thinking, Ciara?"

Her eyes flashed back at him, revealing anger. "What was I thinking?" she echoed his question back at him. "You told me to find a lover, Jonathan. So, I did exactly what you suggested."

The words stung, and Jonathan's grip on her arm tightened involuntarily. "You know I didn't mean it."

"Then what did you mean?" she snapped back. "You push me away then get angry when I do as you tell me. Make up your mind, Jonathan."

He took a step closer, his face inches from hers. "He can't have you."

"Why not?" she demanded, her eyes searching his, not understanding why he would say that and change his mind so swiftly.

"No one else can have you." Not even he understood, but he allowed the words to flow out of him like a river that had no end.

Before she could respond, he pinned her against the wall, his hands on either side of her head.

"No one else can have you," he repeated, his voice a husky whisper. "I've claimed you. You're mine now. Mine."

Then, with a fierce, desperate passion, he captured her lips in a kiss. It was a kiss that spoke of all the longing, frustration, and desire he had been holding back. His hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer as if he could erase all the distance he had put between them with that single, searing kiss.

He could feel her initial shock melting into a mixture of anger and passion as her hands moved to his chest, pushing him away slightly, but in turn, his grip on her tightened, refusing to let go. The intensity of the way she kissed him back left him breathless, his mind spinning with conflicting emotions.

Jonathan's mind raced as he and Ciara pulled away from their passionate embrace, the sound of approaching footsteps breaking the spell. He quickly adjusted his coat, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He glanced at Ciara, her cheeks flushed and eyes bright with emotion. She looked stunning, even more so now that she was marked by their shared moment.

"We should go back," he said, his voice still rough with lingering desire.

She nodded, and they walked back to the ballroom in silence. Jonathan's heart pounded as they re-entered the room, the vibrant atmosphere of the ball a stark contrast to the intimate quiet of the corridor. He reached for her hand, lifting it to his lips and pressing a kiss to her knuckles, a possessive claim that he wanted everyone to see.

But he didn't stop there. He leaned in, his lips brushing against the soft skin of her neck, his touch deliberate and lingering. The collective gasp of the room was almost audible, and Jonathan could feel the weight of their stares.

He didn't care.

Let them whisper. Let them gossip.

He wanted everyone to know that Ciara was his. No one else would be dancing with her… ever.

"What are you doing?" she whispered as they walked with their heads held up high.

"What I should have done all along," he said, without any desire to whisper.

As they moved through the ballroom, Jonathan kept his arm firmly around her waist, guiding her with a protective yet possessive hold. He could hear the murmurs of the guests, their scandalized whispers barely concealed behind fans and gloved hands. It only fueled his determination to show them that she belonged to him.

He glanced down at Ciara, her head held high despite the scrutiny. Pride swelled within him. She was strong, resilient, and unyielding. He admired her for that, and it made him want to protect her even more fiercely. She was his shining pearl that he had found in the gutter of the world that did its best to try and destroy her shine. But he wouldn't let them. He would hide her away from everyone and keep her safe. His.

They joined their friends, exchanging pleasantries and engaging in small talk, but Jonathan's attention never wavered from Ciara. He watched her closely, noting every smile, every laugh, every fleeting glance she sent his way. Each moment felt charged with the memory of their kiss, the fire between them still burning hot and bright.

As the evening wore on, Jonathan couldn't shake the feeling of possessiveness that had taken hold of him. He wanted to keep her close, to shield her from the world and its prying eyes. His emotions were a tumultuous mix of desire, protectiveness, and something deeper that he couldn't quite name.

When the night finally came to an end, and they prepared to leave, Jonathan kept his arm around Ciara, guiding her out of the ballroom with a sense of pride and determination. He had claimed her in front of everyone, and he had no intention of letting her go.

As the carriage came to a halt in front of their home, Jonathan stepped out first, extending a hand to help Ciara down. Their eyes locked in a silent exchange of emotions, heavy with the night's events. Without a word, he swept her into his arms, lifting her effortlessly.

"Jonathan!" Ciara exclaimed, a surprised chuckle escaping her lips. "Have you lost your mind?"

He looked down at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of determination and passion. "Yes," he admitted, his voice rough with sincerity. "I've lost my mind, Ciara. I'm mad about you."

Her laughter softened, replaced by a tender smile as she gazed up at him. The intensity of his words and the fire in his eyes left no room for doubt. She nestled closer to him, feeling the strong, steady beat of his heart against her.

Jonathan carried her through the grand halls of their home, his grip on her firm yet gentle. As they reached her room, he pushed the door open with his shoulder, stepping inside and gently setting her down on the bed. The room was dimly lit, casting a warm, intimate glow over them.

"Jonathan," she began, her voice a soft whisper, but he silenced her with a finger to her lips.

"No," he said, shaking his head slightly. "Let me speak. I've been a fool, pushing you away when all I wanted was to be closer to you. Tonight, seeing you with another man… it made me realize how much I need you, how much I want you. I can't let you go, Ciara."

"I… I don't want you to let me go, Jonathan…" she replied as her lower lip trembled with vulnerability.

For a moment, they simply stood there, wrapped in the intensity of their newfound understanding. Then, slowly, Jonathan leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both tender and fervent, a promise of the future they would face together.

When they finally pulled away, breathless and heartbeats racing, Jonathan rested his forehead against hers. "I'm mad about you," he repeated, his voice a soft murmur against her lips.

Ciara smiled, a sense of peace and joy washing over her. "Then I suppose we're both mad," she said, her eyes shining with love and mischief.

He chuckled, his arms tightening around her. "Mad together, then."

Without any other words, she lay back on the bed, pooling her gown around her waist, inching her legs apart and revealing herself to him. He breathed heavily, looking at her soft, pink flesh.

"Do you want me to go completely insane?" he teased, lowering himself onto her. "You know what you do to me, siren…"

"I know," she purred back, cupping his face and staring at him. "But I'm wondering if I should make you work for it…"

"No, no, no," he said, smirking. "That…" he pointed at her most intimate place, "is all mine. You can't take it away from me."

"I could," she teased. "If you misbehave again…"

He neared her even more, grabbing her by the wrists, making it impossible for her to move. Their lips were inches apart, yet neither initiated the kiss yet.

"And now?" he asked in a low, rumbling whisper. "What will I do with you if you misbehave, siren?"

"Take me, make me yours again and again…" she replied seductively, her eyes sparkling with sheer need for him.

"I have to taste you first," he said as she bit her lip through a smile.

He buried his face between her legs, his lips taking her all in, making her even wetter than she already was. Wet, mad and utterly in love with this man. He slid his finger inside of her, his tongue teasing her, circling her throbbing flesh, until a million little stars exploded right in her field of vision. She moaned loudly, gripping a handful of his hair, keeping him in place as his tongue slid inside of her, lapping up her juices.

She was still trembling when he towered above her, unbuttoning his trousers and releasing his rock-solid manhood from the constraint.

"I need to be inside of you," she heard him say, and the words drove her mad with desire.

He slid inside of her slowly, completely, feeling her wet heat engulf him completely. He was stretching her deliciously, so hot, as she clung to him. He moved harder and harder—there was nothing gentle about the way he was claiming her. And she wouldn't be able to endure his tenderness. She wanted him whole. She wanted him rough. She wanted to feel him throbbing inside of her, his juices leaking out of her.

Desire emanated from him, pounding through him and into her. She wanted to remain in that moment for all eternity, being one with him, belonging to him. His hips undulated against her, brushing against her pearl with every thrust, creating friction that quickly brought her to the edge once again.

He groaned against her lips as they shared more feverish kisses wherever they could land them. She came undone so easily, so quickly as her entire body trembled, welcoming him. A moment later, he followed, his body tightening, only to explode deep inside of her, emptying himself on another groan. His forehead dipped to hers as he breathed heavily, waiting for the onslaught of bliss to subside.

Although they had made love a few times, every time was new, and every experience was new. And the same was true with his kisses. She felt as if her lips were exploring his every time, finding something new to be thrilled about.

He held her close as he lay down next to her, just like before. She had no more fear that he would go away, disappear in the night. They were entangled by their emotions now which although confusing, were slowly starting to make sense now. Words failed them so many times, but their bodies never did. Their kisses never did.

She closed her eyes, laying her head on his shoulder, inhaling deeply. She didn't speak, and neither did he. She fell asleep soon after, listening to the soft drumming of his heart, hoping that it was beating for her.