“Just friendship?” he asked, eyes burning into hers.
This was no closet. Weak sunlight streamed in through the windows. The tension between them crackled with intensity and purpose.
“If you only came here for friendship, Annabelle, you should leave.”
“Why?”
“Because you asked me not to touch you again, and I’m a man of my word.” His gaze dropped to her mouth before he wrenched it back to her eyes with a vehemence that shocked her. “So I suggest you leave before I do something one of us might regret.”
In the closet, he had kissed her as though she was his last breath. So urgently, she had known nothing but him. At the memory, she grew hot all over.
Annabelle had always been the sensible daughter. The good daughter, thereliabledaughter. But this man, the Devil of St James, made her want to forget what it felt like to be good. Weeks ago, before she had ever known him, she would have left now. She would not have come.
She was not the girl she had been weeks ago.
“And if I said I would not mind if you touched me?” she whispered.
He groaned like a man tortured, and through the wild pounding of her heart, an answering thrill ran through her. “I told myself I would not, Annabelle.”
“Why?”
“Madeline.”
The name sliced through her and she had to take an unsteady breath. “I’m not Madeline.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I know.”
“I would not choose your brother over you.” She pressed still closer, tilting her head back in invitation.Kiss me. “We agreed that by the end of the summer, our arrangement would be over. But for now, we are engaged.” She pushed any anticipatory hurt away; later, she would deal with it later. “And I want to know what it’s like.”
His fingers dug into her hips, drawing her closer, and she let out a long breath. “Then I’ll show you, Annabelle, if you are sure this is what you want.”
“It is.”
With a shudder, he gave in.
Chapter Twenty-One
If Jacob were a better man, he would have refused her. Insisted she leave. They had an agreement in place, and that agreement did not involve him taking her innocence. She was going to marry another; he should have no claim on her.
But she had asked, and he was undone. When she asked, he could refuse her nothing.
Her mouth was warm, parting under his, yielding to him in the most delicious of ways, and he took full advantage, pushing her against a bookcase and kissing her until both their breaths were ragged. He was hard, of course he was hard—he had been hard right from the moment she had looked up at him, games forgotten, nothing but want in her eyes.
Now, she kissed him as though she would die if he stopped, and it fuelled him to nip her bottom lip, to press himself against her, to grind his aching length against her stomach, frustrated by the restriction of his breeches and thankful for them all the same.
It could not go any further than this. Hewouldremain in control. Regardless of what happened here today, their agreement had not changed: she was going to be married to another man who would, presumably, want her intact.
Thinking about another man touching her did nothing good to him, so he focused on the practicalities of the situation. The limitations. He would not take her virginity. No matter how much he wanted her. More than Madeline, more than anything he had ever wanted in his life. His existence had been made up of want, of desire, of denial, but nothing had felt as difficult as the knowledge he would come this close to having Annabelle and could not.Wouldnot.
He was not a scoundrel.
Well, hewasa scoundrel, but he had learnt his lesson with Madeline, and he would not ruin Annabelle any more than her presence here had already ruined her.
He did not let himself think about what might happen if she was ruined. Instead, he stroked his knuckles under her breasts, feeling the way her nipples pebbled and her breaths turned heavy and languorous.
“Jacob,” she said, shifting against him. It was a plea, and in answer, he took her hand and led her to the large table in the centre of the room. It was covered in books, but he swiped them aside, clearing a space for her. When she hesitated, he took hold of her waist and set her on it. Her chest heaved as she stared at him.
“I want to touch you,” he said, giving her time to change her mind. Her breath hitched. “Will you let me?”
