‘You are just like the roses, Amanda. All spikey if you don’t approach with care, but beneath it all, you’re just as delicate as the petals. When you let me past the sharpness, the rewards will be oh so sweet.’
‘Maybe I’m all thorns,’ I muttered, tipping my head back as the thorns grazed over my panties.
‘Not with me.’ He lifted the rose higher, dragging it over my cheek.
The bloom slid down my throat, over my collarbone, down to my chest, snagging in the fabric of my dress.
‘Henry…’
‘Look at me.’
I did. The heat burning in his eyes had me pressing my thighs together and a flush rushing to my face.
‘If I were to take this further,’ he said, thumb brushing a scratch the thorn left over my thigh, ‘I’d have you focus on my voice. My touch. Nothing else. No guilt. No professionalism. No overthinking.’
Then he kissed me.
Soft. Far too soft. I needed him to lose control, to follow me down into the pit of lust that he’d launched me into.
I gripped his shirt to steady myself. To demand more.
He broke the kiss, his voice rough. ‘Not here. Not now. I want nothing more than to discover every single way I can make you plead. But I’m also here to protect you. And fucking you in a room full of windows mid-day wouldn’t be in your best interest. No matter how fucking hard you have me.’
I was on the verge of begging. I knew I was. There was no stopping it.
‘Amanda. Are you in here?’
Rita.
I jerked like I’d been clocked in the arse with a taser.
Henry winced, then stepped back just far enough for cool air to rush between us.
Fucking terrible timing, Rita.
‘Go,’ he murmured. ‘Before she comes in and finds you wet and me rocking a tent.’
There was no way my face wasn’t puce.
It took me a moment to steady myself when he lifted me to the floor, my ability to walk having fled with my senses.
twelve
HENRY
By the timeI closed up the orangery, the estate had gone quiet. Likely having their evening meal in the elaborate dining room. A blanket of frost descended on the manor, and I groaned. I’d need to resalt the steps and paths before I could go and find Amanda.
She’s plagued my mind since the moment I woke up, and only increased my obsession with her mid-day rose-filled visit. It was impossible to predict how she’d react to my little game, but her response had filled me with hope. Hope that she would let me behind her walls. Hope that I could see more of her smiles.
I just found my eyes drifting toward her window as I crossed the garden, eager for the slightest glimpse of her.
Nothing.
Following the path to the salt box, I started shovelling gritty salt into a wheelbarrow.
A hat bobbed on the other side of the wall.
‘Evening,’ I shouted.
