Chapter 63
Jacob stood frozen at the door, momentarily thrown by the bright lights of the room and her completely unveiled gaze.
His original plan had been to operate in the dark. No words, no eye contact. Just like before—a transaction of mutual need, no explanations required.
But now, the lights were blazing, and she was fully dressed, though that silk nightgown was somehow more provocative than nothing at all. For the first time, the ever-composed Jacob felt a flicker of awkwardness.
He swallowed, trying to force down the strange sensation churning in his gut.
He was Jacob. The master of this house. He could go wherever he pleased, for whatever reason he wanted.
He stepped into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. The lock clicked softly into place.
He strode directly to the bed, his tall frame blocking a portion of the light, casting a shadow over her.
Elizabeth remained propped against the headboard, her head tilted up to watch him, the smile on her lips unwavering.
Jacob leaned over, planting his hands on the mattress on either side of her body, trapping her between himself and the bed.
He lowered his head, staring directly into her eyes. In their depths, he saw a crystal-clear reflection of himself, along with that damnable, undisguised amusement.
He wanted to kiss her. To shut that mouth that always managed to say things that either infuriated him or made his heart race.
But her gaze, her smile—it was a silent challenge. He felt that if he gave in to his desire and kissed her now, it would be an admission of defeat. An admission that she had effortlessly gotten under his skin, that he was drawn to her.
He took a deep, steadying breath, attempting to reclaim control.
"I couldn't sleep," he heard himself say, his voice huskier and deeper than usual.
Elizabeth blinked, her long lashes sweeping like tiny fans. "Oh? Mr. Smith suffers from insomnia too?"
The subtext in her tone—'cut the crap, I know exactly what you're here for'—was so blatant it made his chest tighten.
He was stonewalled.
He stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly raised a hand and cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him more closely.
His gaze roamed her face, from those clear yet cunning eyes, to her small, pert nose, finally settling on those slightly upturned lips that seemed to be mocking him.
Logic screamed at him to stay calm, maintain his distance, and regain command of the situation.
But the desire roaring through his body, the unique scent of her filling his senses, and the delicate, warm feel of her skin beneath his fingertips were all conspiring to obliterate his self-control.
To hell with calm and control.
She was his fiancée. His woman.
He wanted her. It was his right.
That single thought was the final straw that broke the back of his restraint.
He didn't hesitate any longer. He swooped down, crushing his lips against hers.
The kiss was filled with Jacob's signature brand of dominance, laced with a hint of frustrated anger, but mostly, it was a tidal wave of long-suppressed desire.
His tongue pried her lips apart, invading her mouth with a forceful possessiveness, stealing her breath and her sweetness.
Elizabeth seemed taken aback by his sudden aggression. Her body went rigid for a moment before melting against him. She even lifted her arms, wrapping them around his neck, and began to return his kiss, clumsy but earnest.
Her response was like a spark hitting gasoline, igniting the inferno of lust that was already boiling inside him.
When the kiss finally broke, they were both breathless.
Jacob pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers, his heated breath fanning across her face.
The room was silent save for the sound of their ragged, intertwined breathing.
In the brief ebb of the lustful tide, Jacob looked at her lips, now swollen and glistening, and her eyes, hazy with a film of moisture. A phrase he never expected to say tumbled out of him. "I missed you."
The words were a whisper, nearly lost in the sound of their breathing.
But Elizabeth heard them.
She froze for a second, a flash of surprise in her eyes. Then, that teasing smile returned, only this time it was deeper, tinged with an unreadable softness.
She didn't speak. She simply tightened her arms around his neck, tilted her face up, and initiated another kiss.
This time, her kiss held less hesitation and more welcome, more invitation.
Jacob's eyes instantly darkened. All restraint vanished as he pushed her down onto the soft mattress.
The silk nightgown was stripped away with ease. The moment their skin touched, the heat was staggering.
It was a long night.
Moonlight streamed through the window, mingling with the warm glow of the bedside lamp, casting dancing, entangled shadows on the wall.
It began as a tempest, a storm of possession and plunder. Jacob's powerful movements were driven by the thirst of their days apart and a fierce, primal need to claim his territory.
Elizabeth could barely withstand the onslaught, clinging to him as he drove into her relentlessly.
Gradually, the rhythm slowed, but it never stopped.
This steady, rocking pace was the most exquisite state.
Elizabeth lay on her back, gazing up at Jacob, his eyes dark and heavy with a desire that made her feel like she was drowning in his affection.
His kisses fell on every inch of her skin, leaving a trail of damp heat. The calloused pads of his fingers brushed over her sensitive flesh, sending shivers through her.
Caught in this unfamiliar, almost torturous cycle of tenderness and dominance, Elizabeth's consciousness began to blur. She could only follow his lead, rising and falling with his rhythm, small, irrepressible sounds occasionally escaping her throat.
After what felt like an eternity, Jacob let out a low groan, releasing his searing heat deep inside her.
He held her tightly in his arms, their bodies still intimately connected, slick with sweat, their heartbeats thudding like a drum in the silent night.
He didn't pull away. He didn't speak. He just closed his eyes, his chin resting on the crown of her head, savoring the strange satisfaction and a novel sense of peace that holding her brought.
Elizabeth was so exhausted she couldn't move a finger. She rested against his chest, listening to the strong, steady beat of his heart, her mind drifting into a haze.
Just before she fell asleep, she thought she heard a sigh from above her, so soft it was almost imperceptible.
Then, a kiss, as light as a feather, landed on her temple.
The night deepened, and the moonlight continued its silent, steady pour.
The next day, a new face appeared at Smith Manor.
A woman, introducing herself as Erin, arrived, dressed in a tailored charcoal-gray business suit, her hair in a neat bun, wearing a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. She exuded an air of crisp competence.
She presented Tina with a full set of documents and letters of recommendation, proving she was the authorized manager of one of Elizabeth's properties and also held professional qualifications as a senior housekeeper and personal assistant.
Since Ms. Windsor would be residing at Smith Manor for an extended period, Erin explained, she had been hired to assist with Ms. Windsor's personal affairs and handle some of her external communications.
Tina meticulously verified all the paperwork. The background check was clean, flawless.
She reported to Jacob.
Jacob was standing by his study window. After hearing the report, he glanced down at the impeccably postured Erin in the living room below. His gaze lingered on her face for a second before moving on.
"Since she's Elizabeth's own person, let her stay," he said, his tone flat. "Just make her responsibilities clear. Don't let her overstep."
"Yes, sir," Tina replied.
And just like that, Lynx was successfully installed in Smith Manor under the guise of Erin. Her official role was Elizabeth's personal assistant and housekeeper, assigned a small, private room on the same floor as Elizabeth's guest suite for convenient access.
That afternoon, Elizabeth met with her newly appointed assistant in her private sitting room.