The Rake and the Rose (Once Upon a Wallflower) by Eva Devon

Author:Eva Devon [Devon, Eva]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Historical Romance, Regency Romance, Historical Romance Books, Regency Romance Books, Romance Books, HEA, Happily Ever After, Once Upon a Wallflower, The Rake and the Rose, Eva Devon, The Beast and the Bookseller, Regency Historical Romance, The Beast and the Bookseller by Eva Devon, Duke, Duchess, Europe, England, Women’s Fiction, Women’s Historical Romance, Women’s Fiction Romance, Scandalous Historical Fiction, Opposites Attract, Spicy Regency Books, Spicy Historical Books, Spicy Regency Romance, Adult Romance Books, The Rake and the Rose by Eva Devon, Reformed Rakes, Enemies to lovers, Forbidden Romance, Rekindled Friendships, Secrets
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC
Published: 2023-10-29T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Rose could not sleep. The wild, haunting taste of his lips still upon her mouth refused to abate. Oh no, it taunted her, whispering through her veins, longing for more. And as she lay on her bed in her small room with moonlight spilling in through the windows, she tossed and turned. Finally, she threw her arm up over her head and let out a sigh.

What was happening to her? In all her life, she’d never felt like this. She’d never felt such an ache, such a longing, such a desire to understand what was happening to her body. It felt as if she was liquid and made of flame, and only he could cure it. For it all seemed to stem from the place between her thighs. She found herself quite frustrated with the feel of her own linen nightgown upon her body, of the fabric of her bed about her. It was most frustrating. In all her life, she’d never experienced such sensations, and it was all because of him.

She could not tear her thoughts from him or from his lips upon hers. The madness of it coursed through her, stealing away all reason until, at last, the light of dawn began to slip through her window. She pushed herself up on the bed. She could not live like this, with this strange, forceful need inside her. Thinking of Derby’s kiss, wishing for more, wishing to understand desire better.

She dug her fingers into the mattress and considered. Surely, if she could understand it, then she could make sense of it. And once she could make sense of it, she could write it down, and then it would be out of her. She’d no longer feel consumed by it. For all her troubles, once she wrote them down, were gone. That was the answer, wasn’t it? It always had been.

Yes. If she was to experience this with him, it would be research, important research, so she could understand why so many people were willing to throw their lives away for such action, for this thing inside her that made her feel completely afire. Part of her told her that she should tamp it down, ignore it, but she knew that pressure could make things worse. That was the point of a tea kettle’s spout, for goodness’ sake! If one did not relieve the pressure, well, it would boil and then burst. And she refused to burst apart.

No, she had always been a master of her own fate, and she would not stop now. She was no coward. So, as she swung her feet over the side of the bed, placed them on the cold wood floor, and crossed to the basin, she poured out frigid water into the porcelain and splashed her face. She poured it up and down her arms until its drops danced like little jewels over her skin. She shivered in the soft, buttery yellow light spilling in through her window. It was going to be a beautiful day in London, so unlike the winter.

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