He listened to her sounds from the pillow, swallowing back his orgasm. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, he released her hair, planted one hand on the bed beside her, and reached the other around to tap her nub.
She convulsed, her back undulating while her arse plunged back at him in erratic strokes. Her little button hardened and quivered under his finger and her channel throbbed around him.
Grasping her to him, he plunged twice more, hot lust surging up as her inner muscles squeezed his release from him.
More sated than he could ever remember being, Evan collapsed to his side, drawing her with him so they spooned, and tamped down his concerns about losing her, about what would happen in London, or Cheltenham, or a decade.
****
How was I so bored by any and all forms of copulation, with anyone I wanted, man or woman, only a month ago?
Evan could barely look at Althea without his cock rising in his breeches for all to see. He could barely kiss her without leaking in his drawers. For all his knowledge of the most lascivious acts, it was the simple touches that undid him when she was the one touching. The most intimate lovemaking with her body sliding against his.
But where would it lead? She still needed investment money, and he was as reluctant to mix business and pleasure as she was. Neither of them wanted to marry, albeit for very different reasons. A part of him still wondered if she was trying to incite him to gift her the money rather than asking for a stake in the business. Her business acumen stimulated his mind—and sometimes his cock—as much as her figure aroused his body. A cunning woman might have thought that was a way forward, using one of the few tools that society allowed women.
Sometimes, he was tempted to give her the funds she needed. If he squinted enough, he could argue it was like his first investment—negotiating for strawberries and a kiss or, now, shampoo and sex. He always ended up talking himself out of it, though, wary after too many requests in recent years.
A note had arrived from Greenborough Park, reminding him that his myriad investments needed monitoring. He also wanted to check on how the new nurse was doing with his mother. And he needed to show his smiling, carefree façade in London to maintain his reputation as the blithe rake with more money than sense. Constantly scared the gossips of the Ton would become too curious and look at his family, he liked to ensure he created enough gossip, whether spending money lavishly, dabbling in the demi-monde, or whatever else he could think up, to ensure the focus was squarely on him.
His time in Bath with Althea was at an end. She was meeting with Emily Anders, the owner of her first-choice shop, near The Royal Crescent. They had not talked about what was next. Nor had he asked Ford whether he’d return to Cheltenham or follow Beth to London.
Mayhap a break would give them time to consider what they wanted. Althea could check on her London shop, and he could find a solution for her investment needs. When she was near him, he had trouble focusing on anything other than the next lesson he wanted to teach her about the pleasures of the flesh.
He looked up from the hall table in the guesthouse as the door opened. Althea swept in, her expression triumphant. He knew before she said it that the local shop owner had been interested in a partnership.
She plopped down in the chair across from him. “Evan, it was amazing. She was so flattered by my interest in her inks and other products. And I had to leave three bottles of shampoo with her, so that she could try the different scents for herself and her lover.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You had one of your scents for men with you?”
“Yes, but she didn’t want that.”
Interesting. He’d worried that a male shop owner’s interest in a partnership might involve attraction to Althea, given her beauty, but he hadn’t considered this scenario. No matter. In either, he’d already thought of ways they could use it to their advantage. And it was clear the shop was well-managed and the partnership had a basis in good business.
“Right, then. What’s next? Did you both identify the products you want to swap, or are there other items you’ll need to ship for her to test and vice versa?”
“Other than the shampoo, which she’d never heard of, we have agreed on the products. She will send her shop’s turnover figures with me tomorrow, so we can each estimate inventory we’ll want. Then I will know the investment I require. I hope obtaining that funding and organizing the necessary paperwork will be quick?” She tilted her head at him in question.
Evan’s lips flattened. Despite her reference to paperwork, she seemed to be asking him how quickly he would get her funds and how formal he’d want the documentation to be. His answer was brief and vague. “I will help you with organizing. I am sure it can be expedited.”
“Oh good. Oh, Evan”—she grabbed his hand where it sat in a clenched fist on the table, not noticing as she petted him in excitement—“I am thrilled with this solution. I cannot thank you enough.” She bit her lip. “Although, I am sure I could try, given what I’ve learned.” Her lashes swept down, then up.
Evan’s groin tightened as his fist loosened. He’d figure out the next steps tomorrow. Tonight was for celebrating.
****
Evan woke early the next day. Given the close quarters, and their distance from London, they’d given up any attempts at secrecy from their staff or Ford and Beth days ago.
He lounged in bed as Althea directed her maid to pack her trunk, waiting to see if she’d say something about their future to him. He regretted the need for maneuvering, waiting to see if she’d speak first, but not enough to bring the subject up himself. Frankly, he still didn’t know what he wanted. Letting her decide seemed the best course of action.
As her maid folded clothes, Althea perched beside him where he sat propped against the pillows, covers in his lap below a naked chest. Flicking his nipple with a nail, she smirked. “Mayhap ’tis time to dress, my lord?”
He caught her hand and brought it to his lips. “I thought you preferred me without clothes?”
“I do.” She sighed, lowering her head.
He braced himself mentally.
Peering up at him through her lashes, she said, “’Tis our last day here. You haven’t told me where you’re going.”
