It was no use. Olivia watched Young Olivia dare to introduce herself to Lord Percival Bretagne under the censorious gaze of theton. A willful, spirited, even foolhardy, girl. Theton’s critical eye soon turned adoring as they watched Young Olivia and Percy fall instantly and madly in love. A genuine love match, a testament to true love within their ranks . . . the kind of love that had eluded so many. Within the hour, they would be the Sweethearts of the Season.
A wave of melancholy stole through her. She would like to wake up now. This dream always ended the same.
In the next instant, her body shifted in sleep, and a riot of conflicting sensation—hot, cold, parched, wet—swept over her. It was the thrill of anticipation, and it drew in toward one specific point in her body: the apex of her thighs. Her legs kicked the sheets off her body, too hot, too sensate. This was new to the dream.
Then she felt it. A presence, sensuous and demanding, hovering behind her. She didn’t need to see him. Sheknewhim. She should feel shame, but she didn’t. Brazen, unabashed pleasure at the perversity of experiencinghimin front of the entiretonspread through her. Not that they saw her. They only had eyes for Young Olivia, their darling.
A gorgeous, capable hand snaked around her waist and pulled her backward, leaving her no choice but to melt into his hard, unforgiving length. His breath traced a warm trail across the back of her neck, his mouth teasing but never touching, releasing goose bumps down the length of her spine. She was one exhalation away from madness, desiring only that his lips touch her skin.
How could he be so close, yet so far out of reach? Frustration, demand, need, all kicked inside her, clamoring for release. Would he never give her what she needed?
At last, his lips found the nape of her neck, and his hands tightened at her waist before roving up to her breasts, cupping them, his fingertips taking her nipples between them, squeezing them through the fabric of her dress. Her head arched back in mindless abandon.
Through a haze, filtered by lust and hunger, she watched her younger self accept Percy’s arm as he led her to the dance floor.
Then,hismouth found her ear, and she was lost, utterly lost. That boy across the room had never made her feel like this. But, then, he and Young Olivia had never known the other capable of this level of sensuality.
The expanse between them and herself andhimstretched beyond the span of a ballroom to a distance of a hundred miles. Suddenly, Percy and Young Olivia were dressed for their wedding day. She wanted to cry out, to warn her younger self that the extraordinary, unique feeling would begin dissolving, moment by moment, day by day . . .
Thenhepulled at the fabric of her skirts, pulled her attention toward him, toward matters more urgent, and began lifting the fabric, fold over fold, until her ankles . . . her calves . . . her thighs . . . hermons pubiswere exposed. He operated not by sight, but by an expertise driven by instinct and demand, his gorgeous, capable fingers trailing across her hips, branding her with their touch, locating a bud, taut, wet, wanton, orgastic—
A loud moan erupted from her throat, and her eyes flew open . . .
To find herself alone in her bedroom, bed sheets twisted around her ankles, morning dress tangled above her waist, hand clenched between her thighs.
She flung her arms above her head and released a moan borne of dissatisfaction and denial. She’d made a mess of her sheets. A perfect, little mess . . .
Of a sudden, clarity shined its light on her.
Her feelings for Lord St. Alban had naught to do with love or matrimony. They didn’t interfere with her goals or intentions. This was desire, pure, simple, raw . . .implacable.
She swung her legs off the bed and hopped to her feet on a wave of relief and determination. She must take a risk. It might be her only chance to rid her system of him.
Denial wasn’t working. The time had come for her to try the opposite approach.
Before this day was done, she would make another perfect, little mess.
Chapter 14
Jake sank his battered and bruised body into the steaming salt bath and exhaled a moan equal parts exhaustion and deep satisfaction. How was it possible that he’d gone this long in London before discovering Gentleman Jackson’s boxing saloon?
There was something undeniable and purifying about stepping foot in the ring, looking another man in the eye, and tacitly agreeing to do one’s worst to each other. It bonded men together in brotherhood at an elemental level.
And it was precisely the release he needed after last night. He’d sent his excuses to the Duke this morning and succumbed to the mindless brutality of the ring. Anything to clear his head ofher, and it had worked. For a time. Until he’d set foot outside the ring again.
He inhaled a deep draught of warm, humid air. There she’d stood in her studio, chest rising and falling in short bursts of air, eyes wide and inquiring. He’d only a few seconds before her questions went from general to specific. A second after that, she’d require serious answers. Answers he hadn’t been prepared to give.
With a single second to decide his course, he’d taken a step, then another, a way to silence her solidifying with each inch forward. A simple kiss would do the trick.
He groaned and sank deeper into the water, even as a charge, one specific to her, spread from his gut to his loins. His cock grew thick, and he reached down to give it a testing stroke. There had been nothing simple about that kiss. His eyes drifted shut, the sight of her, thefeelof her, and he tightened his grip, his body seeking another kind of release.
The low murmur of voices in the corridor caught his attention. He froze and listened, his fingers loosening their grip. Frustration ripped through him. Would he never be allowed release?
The voices resonated no louder than a soft drone, yet he discerned an insistence in the tenor of it, Payne’s deep, mournful intonation at odds with one distinctly female. A dogged quality imbued the interaction, replacing frustration with curiosity. The door to his private sitting room turned on its hinges and opened without a knock. What was happening?
He braced his hands on either side of the sunken bathtub and stepped out of its sultry embrace to investigate the situation. His fingers found a towel and wrapped the soft cloth around his hips, droplets of water streaming down his exposed chest and his partially aroused cock.
A surprised, “Oh!” echoed in the other room, and a lengthy silence followed, which in reality could have lasted no longer than a few seconds.
