I’m taken aback. I expected him to step away, set me down, and give me the cold shoulder. It’s happened before. I’ve lost many a lover that way.
He keeps his fingertip under my chin while his other hand slides from my ribs to my back. He reaches one of the long ends of the bow that secures the neck of my gown. His hand leaves my skin. Then there’s a tug at my bow. With a second tug, the ribbon unravels, and the front of my gown drops to my waist. Cool air skates over my bare breasts. “Do I have your attention now, Edwina?”
I suck in a breath. This isn’t the first time he’s used my real unabridged name but hearing it while he stares at my naked chest, drinking in the sight of me like a starving man, sends myhead spinning. Oh, I’m here all right. And as he leans down and takes my hardened nipple into his mouth, a shock of pleasure brings me close to the edge. This has never happened before. I’ve never experienced such heavy want that I’m at risk of release before a lover has even touched my sex.
A whine escapes my throat, and I throw my head back against the wall, eyes closed. One of his hands finds my calf, then my knee. It trails up the inside of my thigh, pulling my skirt out of the way in the process. His hand doesn’t stop until it reaches the outer hem of my silk panties. I’ve never been so grateful to be wearing the flimsy fae-style undergarments and not the ruffled pantaloons most women wear in Bretton.
He releases my nipple from the agonizingly delightful ministrations of his mouth to press a kiss to my neck. “I want to give you what you gave me the other night.”
My lips part to say yes. Oh, how I want him to do exactly that, but reason weaves its way through my desire. “We don’t have time,” I gasp, even as I roll my hips. Even as I silently beg him to touch me already.
“We have time, love. I’m not going to need much.”
“You’re awfully sure of yourself.”
“I am.” He brings his lips to mine, just as he slips his hand beneath my panties. The pad of his thumb finds my seam, stroking it, painting me with the slickness of my own arousal.
A moan escapes my lips. I encircle my arms around his neck, my fingers clawing into his hair.
“Fuck, Edwina,” he says against my mouth. “You’re already so wet. Is that for me? Or is that from watching your play?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know—” My words end on another moan as he draws circles over my sensitive apex. Bloody hell, he wasn’t wrong. We’re not going to need even five minutes, for I can’t possibly last much longer. He shifts closer, angles his hand, sliding another finger over me. He palms my sex, then dips onefinger into my center, curling it deep inside me as he gently thrusts. I hug him closer, waves of pleasure coursing through me, gathering around that expert finger. I’m panting harder now, and he devours every breath with a kiss. I throw my head back again as the pressure builds. A cry erupts from my lips. “Will!”
He thrusts in a second finger, his thumb circling my clitoris, and I unravel around him, my climax radiating through my core, my very being. He dances with my orgasm, letting me ride his hand in waves until my shudders subside. Once I’m nothing but a limp, spent heap of flesh, he continues to hold me, planting gentle kisses on my cheek. After a few quiet moments, he helps me down from the rail and sets me on my unsteady feet.
“Turn around,” he whispers, gently guiding me until my back is facing him. He presses a kiss to my neck, then reaches for the fabric at my waist. Right, my top. He drapes my bodice over my torso, the lace skating over my sensitive nipples, then pulls both ends of the ribbon behind my neck. With slow, careful movements, he secures the bow. There’s something sweet about the gesture, about his gentle touch, in the wake of what he just gave me.
I’m about to face him again, to thank him—whether for the orgasm or for tying my bow, I know not—when he clasps me around my waist and pulls my backside against him. He hugs one arm over my middle, while the other slides under the front of my bodice to cup my breast. He brings his mouth to my neck, lightly grazing it with his teeth.
A thrill moves through me at the heated one-sided embrace, and it only grows when I feel the hard length of him pressed into me, straining against his trousers.
“Please use me soon,” he says into my neck. “I need more of you.”
I angle my head and meet his lips with a kiss. What I wouldn’t give to use him right now. To hike up my skirt and let him take his pleasure however he wants it. But I think we both want more than what the remainder of our elevator ride can provide. Our time must be close to its end.
Sure enough, the motion of the elevator stutters, slows.
We break our kiss and William releases me, sliding his hand out from under my dress and leaving my skin cold in his absence. A second later, the door opens and Zane’s apartment comes into view. I don’t see anyone as we step into the room, which sets some wicked ideas into motion?—
“You’re back.” Daphne’s voice greets us from one of the chandeliers. Its light has been turned down to the faintest glow.
Just like that, my devious plans to finish what William and I started evaporate. We’re not alone, and the others will be back soon if they aren’t lurking around this enormous open space already.
William’s hand grazes my back in a comforting gesture, along with a smile. One that holds sweetness and secrets and the promise of more to come. Another night. I return the grin, and he gives me one last lingering look before he saunters away, loosening his cravat.
“What did you two do tonight?” Daphne asks as she drops to the floor. There’s no innuendo in her voice, but my cheeks heat just the same.
“Oh, uh, we saw a play. A burlesque adaptation ofThe Governess and the Rake.”
“Hmm, maybe I should have gone.” She springs across the floor and settles onto one of the windowsills at the far end of the room. She lowers her voice to a curious whisper. “I wonder when Monty will be back. He better not be up to something idiotic.”
I stroll to the nearest divan and lay back upon it, unable to pay attention to anything but my racing heart and my need tosprawl out in the wake of my pleasure. I throw a hand over my eyes as I slow my breaths, but William fills my mind.
That was…incredible. I’ve never experienced such full-body immersion with a lover before. Such euphoria. Such need. I want more, and not just the pleasure. I want to exchange more secrets too. I want to learn more about him and tell him more about me. I want to hear him tell me I’m beautiful and rage at those who’ve slighted me.
He’s right about what he said earlier; whatever is going on between us feels like more than friendship. It’s warmer than a rivalry, and what we did in the elevator wasn’t even close to hate-sex. If I take any ideas of hate or rivalry away, doesn’t that leave just sex? The way my heart continues to flutter feels more thanjustanything.
What is it then? What can it even be? It’s not like there’s a future between us. Only one of us will win the publishing contract. If I lose, I won’t have Mr. Fletcher to advocate for my citizenship, for he has no reason to unless I’m going to write more books for him. Which means I go back to Bretton. Sure, there’s a chance I could eventually secure a lesser contract with Fletcher-Wilson or apply for citizenship on my own. But how long could that take? I’ve fallen in love with Faerwyvae. With the different courts, the freedoms, the variety. And, yes, even my own fame. I need to live here.
