Rose laughed. “Still, Augustus’s mother is so excited about the exchange of proper vows.”
Bells began to chime, signaling the beginning of the opera. Lisbeth and Thomas settled into seats in the front row of the box. The curtain opened, and she became enthralled with the story. It was about a boy and a girl who grew up together, but then the girl marries another. The man goes mad. Lisbeth leaned towards him. “This reminds me of the Majnun and Layla. I suppose that story plot is in every culture.”
“Agree,” he said, before grasping one of her hands and threading their fingers together. “Maybe it will end happily.”
He brought her hand to his lips, and Lisbeth swore she could hear all the women in the theater sigh. She whispered, “I think people are more interested in watching us than the show.”
Thomas smiled. “I don’t care as long as I’m with you.”
“Still, it would be nice to have a day or night out without so much attention.”
He leaned closer, his mouth brushing her ear. “Are you saying you want to be alone with me?”
Her heart started to beat faster. She did want that. “Yes. A day for just us would be lovely.”
Thomas turned to stare at her face, studying her intently. The underlying desire that always existed between them raged. Eventually, he said, “Consider it done. I have some ideas.”
A few hours later, they sat in the carriage. Lisbeth was exhausted and looking forward to sleep. Thomas had pulled her over onto his lap when the carriage started moving. They’d fallen into this pattern over the last couple of days—gentle kissing and caressing. She felt his shaft push against her bottom, and her core clenched.
Her need for him, which she was doing her best to keep subdued, threatened to bubble over. His hand grasped her hip, and he pushed against her bottom. Again, it was only gentle kisses and touches. Lisbeth looked down into his eyes and she said, “Thomas, will you really kiss me?”
His brows drew together in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Without restraint.”
He groaned and pulled her head down, pressing his lips to hers. She gasped but kissed him back with just as much yearning. Their tongues sparred and pressed against one another. His hand slid up and grasped one of her breasts. She whimpered. “Thomas, please.”
He started to slide her skirt up, but then just as suddenly, he deposited her back on the bench on the other side.
Frustration coursed through her. She ached for him. “What are you doing?”
“We’ve not been intimate since we decided to try again. Our first time won’t be in this carriage.”
She rolled her eyes, squeezing her legs together, desire still throbbing through her. “This isn’t our first time.”
He shook his head. “Our next intimate moment won’t be in this carriage or tonight.”
Lisbeth frowned at him, but Thomas turned serious. “I forced you to marry me. I want our next time not to be rushed and special.”
Her ache for him still pulsated through her, but she nodded. He winked at Lisbeth, making her heart flutter, and the throbbing in her body intensified. She sighed. “Fine, but don’t make me wait too long.”
Thomas grinned at her wickedly. “I won’t.”
*
Thomas sat inone of the private rooms of the Den. He leaned his head against the back of the wingback chair. He couldn’t believe he’d refused the opportunity to bury himself inside Lisbeth last night. When they were in the carriage, he’d wanted her desperately. Hell, he always wanted her, but they’d been through so much.
Thomas was a fool, but the next time he was able to touch Lisbeth, he didn’t want to be rushed. He wanted them to get lost in each other’s bodies and not worry about anything else. It was such an odd thought, but now that he had Lisbeth, he didn’t want any part of their rediscovery of each other to fly by. He wanted to revel in it.
“I hope your return to my club doesn’t mean that there are issues with your wife,” Devons said, carrying two full glasses of brandy.
Thomas nodded his thanks, taking one. “No, it is nothing like that. I have a request.”
Devons frowned and lifted a brow. Thomas pulled a stack of letters from inside his coat. “I need to hire an investigator to track the authors of these down.”
Devons looked at the floral envelopes before sneezing from the overwhelming smell of perfume. “Why?”
Thomas pulled the top three from the top. “Read these.”
