Euphoria (The Thornfield Affair #1) by Amity Cross

Author:Amity Cross [Cross, Amity]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amity Cross

15

The next morning, I awoke in my own bed.

My skin thrummed from Edward’s touch, my thighs feeling tender. Rolling over, I slid out of bed and wandered into the bathroom, turning on the shower. Removing the battered singlet I slept in, I studied my nakedness in the mirror as the water heated. The space was usually oppressive in its smallness, but this morning, everything seemed to glow. I’d entirely forgotten about Blanche Ingram’s haughty claim over the man who’d worshiped my body and had not forced me to pleasure in return.

Edward Rochester was a gloomy sort of man, but underneath, he was a being of light. He hid as much of himself from the world as I did, and I suppose we had that in common at least. That and our bodies delighted in one another’s like none before them. My pleasure had dictated his. It was a strange concept and so were his parting words.

“Jane, you must keep this a secret.”

“This?” I’d inquired, attempting to be flippant and not at all as needy as I felt.

I remembered how his hand had felt against my cheek as we’d lingered by the study door, and I could still feel his lips against mine.

He’d said in parting, “One taste and already I thirst for more.”

I was listless as I’d gathered myself, and any word he spoke to me was taken without complaint. I didn’t like keeping our newfound status secret, but I was desperate to keep him close. In all honesty, I wasn’t sure what to label our relationship. Liaison, affair, those were all fairly accurate words if I was to be a secret.

Still, his words hinted there would be more, and I clung to the hope of feeling his touch once more. I was addicted in the best, and worst, possible way.

I was a slave to Edward Rochester.

Staring at my reflection, I ran my fingertips over my lips and studied my eyes. Then I lowered my touch to my breasts, reliving the moment he’d drawn my nipple into his mouth and bit. He’d been aroused by my body. Mine. Jane Doe was poor and little, but she didn’t feel so plain anymore.

Then as I turned away from myself and stepped under the stream of water, I decided upon something scandalous. A new leaf, a new challenge, a new chapter, a new beginning.

All my life I’d collected wounds.

I’d carried around those marks as a sign of my strength as if I’d created them myself. It was my doing, so I must bear the weight of their consequences, never to cast blame on another. But all of it was a lie I told myself to justify the person I’d become because it was easier to walk through life solitary and alone, than to make lasting connections.

Life came with all kinds of emotions…happiness, sorrow, love, anguish, loss. They worked in symbiosis with the universe. You couldn’t have light without the darkness. It was scientifically impossible. To shut out one of these celestial ingredients meant to close oneself to life’s beauty entirely.

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