“Bloody hell,” Tristan muttered.
“Language,” Blakewood said.
Tristan barked a laugh. “Are you protecting Lady Amelia’s ears?”
She snickered and Blakewood sighed. “I suppose not. Her language is fouler than anything I’ve heard you say.”
“It’s her brother’s fault,” Tristan said. “It’s difficult being a brother and a father.”
The air stilled. Tristan kept his gaze on his cards but peeked at Alston. He was looking down at the table now. Good, he’d finally said something significant, but how did that reveal his cards?
“Trade,” Blakewood said, and Alston made the trade.
“Trade,” Alston said to his sister.
“No,” she said and knocked.
They set down their cards. Tristan wiped a hand over his face. He’d won, but he still didn’t understand how. How could he intentionally win? How did he make the odds go in his favor? Everything he wanted in his life was now balanced on a deck of cards.
“We’re going out tonight,” Alston said.
Tristan looked up and Alston was looking directly at him. “It’s onething to play the game, another to watch others play it.”
“The Den?”
“Why not? May as well.”
Tristan hadn’t been back since yesterday evening. He nodded.
Later that night,he snuck into Flick’s room. This time he came through the kitchen door—he’d swiped a key from the butler’s pantry earlier. He crept to Flick’s room and silently entered. All her candles were out, the fire banked and putting off consistent heat. Tristan undressed and padded toward the bed. He lifted the sheet, spotting a rogue foot near the edge. He gently grabbed her ankle. She was on her side and facing away from him. He didn’t want to startle her, but he’d been thinking about this moment since her bath, and he wanted to make his dream come true.
He trailed his fingers up her leg as he crawled onto the bed, peeling the coverlet away from her body.
“Flick,” he whispered. He leaned over her shoulder. She had her palms pressed together, tucked under her cheek. He kissed her cheek, and she murmured.
“I need you,” he said, then he pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Do you want me to wake you up?”
She sighed, her eyes closed. “Mmhm.”
He ran his hand over her hip, rocking her to her back. She stretched, reaching her arms above her head and straightening her legs. She folded her arms behind her head and turned her face toward him, eyes still closed.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Tristan?” she asked in a sleepy voice.
“I’m right here. You don’t have to open your eyes if you don’t want to.”
He moved lower, straddling her lower legs and pushing her nightgown up. He watched her face intently. She shifted, her breasts rising and falling with a deep breath. Tristan bared her from the waist down, running his hands possessively over her thighs. He brushed his thumb through the triangle of springy, dark curls, and she squirmed, arching her neck as she brought her hands to her breasts.
Tristan bent close and blew air over her, then parted her, just enough to lick her where she was most sensitive. Her hips shifted, arching closer to his mouth.
“Please, Tristan,” she moaned with her breathy, sleepy voice.
He pushed his tongue deeper, lapping at her center until her legs were shifting underneath him, wanting to open for him and give him more. He moved in between her legs, spreading her with his hands on her thighs and reveling in her trust and desire. He bent over her once more, this time using his fingers to part her and lick deep into her. Then he licked upward to the bud that crowned her sex and gently sucked. She came alive under his hands, her fingers digging into his hair.
“You’re a devil,” she said, fully awake now. She held him to her, and he smiled against her silky wet heat as he teased and wrung moans from her throat. He listened to her beg and cry out his name as he brought her to the cliffs of the heavens and pushed her over, tasting her release on his tongue as her body flooded with her pleasure.
She panted, pushing to her elbows, and glared at him.
