“Once you did not think such capabilities on my part quite as beneath your notice as you seem to now.”
He watched her cheeks color at this retort. Perhaps, it was beneath him. But he couldn’t care. He wanted to remind her of the past.
“If you think such comments will distract me from thatdisplayin there, you are very mistaken. If you have designs on Natasha, know now that I will not allow it. Neither will her mother.”
“Perhaps the lady has preferences that conflict with that of her guardians,” he teased, fighting the smile that threatened to bend the corners of his mouth.
“Natasha might play the coquette, but she is a reasonable girl at heart. She will listen to her mother, believe me.”
They were facing each other, only inches apart. From the street, he knew, no one could see them in this narrow alley. He leaned in to her and she took a step back, finding herself against the brick wall of a townhome.
He took another step towards her, so that her skirts brushed his buckskins. This close to her, he could smell the tea and cake on her breath, how they mingled with her natural sweetness.
“And what if I have powers of persuasion that might overset even the most reasonable of girls?”
At the words, he felt her shiver. And it undid him. He couldn’t resist leaning in further, until her body was flush between him and the wall. In the February chill, her body felt like a warm hearth, and he drew nearer to her like a traveler who had been out in the wind. Her curves, the swell of her breasts and generous hips, were so soft and pliant against him that he felt himself harden.
She gasped. When their eyes met, he could see that hers were filled with mingled outrage and lust. At any moment, he expected her to push him back, but she didn’t.
Curious. He liked that.
“You’re a brute,” she finally managed, but she remained pressed against him. Surely, he thought, by now she could feel his erection. He was threatening to pop a seam, his mind filling with all the ways he could take her mouth and more against this Bloomsbury wall.
“Once again, Miss Watson, there was a time when you did not seem to mind my brutish qualities.”
Their lips were near to brushing. All he would have to do was lean down a few inches and cover her pink lips with his mouth. The temptation to do so was overwhelming.
“I was a fool then. And much younger than I am now.”
“And yet you respond to me still. I can see it.” With those words, he pressed himself into her. He was hot and hard and aching for her. The feel of her against him, even through their clothes, threatened ruin.
She gasped afresh. And he saw there, once more, that pure desire he had seen the other night. He imagined, no, knew, how wet she would be for him beneath her skirts. The crude motion he had just made, he knew, was exactly what she would expect of him. Yet he couldn’t care now, even though later he was sure he would cringe at himself. He couldn’t stand her denying what they had. What they had once had and what he was sure they could have once more.
The thought made his breath stutter in his throat.
Then he felt a harsh crack across his cheekbone and found himself pushed back so hard that he nearly stumbled.
“You’re disgusting,” she panted.
She had slapped him! He raised his hand to his cheek in surprise, shocked to find it smarting.
He regained the step he had lost, but he didn’t touch her.
Instead, he thrust his fingers into his pocket and pulled out the papers. He put them in her hand.
“What are these? I don’t want anything from you.”
“You can tell the lovely Miss Mapperton and her mother that thisdisgustingman has procured vouchers to Almack’s for the household.”
With that, he turned and strode out of the alleyway.
Yes, he thought as he walked away, his cock had nearly been scalded off, his buckskins were likely ruined, and his cheek was aching.
But today was a victory.
Olivia Watson still wanted him—and he wasn’t going to let her forget it.
Chapter Five
