“A man and a woman seeking mutual pleasure,” she told him curtly. “You needn’t act as if I were your mistress. What we shared is…”
“Incredible,” he finished for her.
“Over,” she said in the same moment.
“Over,” he repeated, staring at her. “That’s what you think? That we’re over?”
Oh God, she wanted to kiss him. She wanted to kiss his sulky mouth more than she wanted to see another day.
I can resist him, she thought sternly.
“Yes, Brandon,” she said slowly. “That is what I think. That we are over. It was lovely whilst it lasted. However, the time has come for us to part ways. You are marrying a debutante, and I am going about living my life as I wish.”
“I see.” He nodded, holding her gaze.
For a moment, she believed she had won their battle of wits and words.
“Good,” she forced out, feeling numb. “I’m glad.”
“Tell me something first, if you please.” He leaned forward, impossibly near now, his scent wrapping around her and comforting her, the same way a lullaby soothed a child.
She licked her lips, tasting sweetness. “What would you have me tell you?”
Perhaps if she held her breath, she might better resist.
His head dipped, his lips brushing her cheek in a light, tender kiss. “Does this feel like we’re over?”
Lottie was still holding her breath, and she told herself that was why she didn’t answer him.
Apparently, he took her silence as acquiescence. Because his mouth brushed her temple next. “Does this feel like we’re over, Lottie?”
She swallowed, her heart pounding. Soon, she would need air. But she bit her lip, delaying the inevitable.
He laid a hot, gentle kiss on her jaw. “What of this?”
Her throat was next, and she inhaled, her lungs feeling as if they might explode. But that was no good, because he was all she could smell, that glorious, irresistible blend of man and musk and citrus mingled with the crispness of rain and the earthiness of leather and the faint, clean hint of shaving soap too.
“Answer me, Venus.”
Not his pet name for her. How could she withstand such torture? She couldn’t, and he knew it. Just as she hadn’t been able to face him to put an end to their affair. Because she didn’t want to end it. She wanted it to go on and on. She wanted to spend every night in his bed, in his arms, to kiss him whenever she wished. She wanted him to be hers and hers alone, and that terrified her more than words could possibly convey.
He kissed the hollow behind her ear, and she shivered. “Does this feel like we’re over?”
“Brandon,” she protested, unable to lie with him so near, his tender, sensual onslaught bringing her to her knees more swiftly than the most passionate seduction ever could.
“How about this?” He feathered a kiss over her brow next.
“How did you get in here?” she muttered, trying to think of anything other than what he was doing to her and the effect his reverent, carefully placed kisses were having on her. “Whoever allowed it is sacked.”
“I let myself in through the servants’ stair,” he said, amusement lacing his voice as he kissed the bridge of her nose. “But enough of that. You’re meant to be telling me if it feels as if we’re over to you.”
His lips found the corner of hers, and a strangled sound of longing emerged from her before she could stop it.
She gripped the book in her lap so tightly that her fingers ached. “Are you trying to torment me, damn you?”
“No.” He lifted his head, his gaze tangling with hers once more. “I’m trying to prove to you that we very mucharen’tover. That we’re far from it, in fact.”
She heaved a sigh of frustration. “You know as well as I that we cannot continue in this vein. You need to marry, and I will never wed again. To carry on as if our futures were otherwise is nothing short of pure folly.”
