One would expect to feel defensive upon being blasted by Collette’s brother like that, but Addison rather respected the man for it. He would have done no less if the tables had been turned.
Chaswick was a good man and an excellent brother.
What the devil had caused him to act so very out of character? Something about being in her company shattered his normal reservations. He’d experienced it that day in the stairwell, and then again, in her classroom. Talking with her at the dinner party, he’d wanted to experience it again.
Whatever “it” was.
Today, he’d intended to keep her out for forty-five minutes, certainly no more than an hour. And he’d intended to present her with all the logical reasons she needed to marry him. If she had refused, he would have made inquiries for her as to suitable employment closer to London. Close enough, at least, that she could make somewhat frequent visits to see her family.
His plans had gone awry.
Addison accepted the soap from Brown and went to scrubbing himself thoroughly. His skin was cold to the touch, but beneath it he was hot, jumpy. And whenever he remembered the kiss, lusty as hell.
“Leave me,” he instructed his valet. He’d have a warm soak and do some writing later this evening.
“Very good, sir. A towel and banyan are hanging over the chair.”
Lightning flashed as the door closed and thunder cracked the air three seconds later.Fulminatus. He grinned. How very appropriate.
Addison slid down in the tub, submerging his entire head and holding himself there until he had no choice but to emerge for air.
He ought to have been considerably more discreet about the location he’d chosen to kiss her. Anywhere would have been better than sitting atop his curricle parked on the side of Curzon Street.
He might have chosen somewhere he could do more than kiss her, while at the same time ensuring neither of them fell off the damn bench.
Instinctively, he wound his hand around his cock, thick and hard from nothing more than the memory of a kiss.
What was it about her?
He tilted his head back, his hand slick from the soap, making it easy to slide up and down his length.
When he’d first come of age, he’d taken advantage of his position and resources by setting up a mistress, much as his peers had done. Daphne Dubois—likely not even her given name, but he’d enjoyed her. He’d liked her. He’d not enjoyed the sordid nature of it all. In the years since he’d let her go, his encounters had been brief, spontaneous, and, since he was also selective, quite limited.
Collette was unlike any woman he’d ever known. Unbridled by a proper upbringing, she spoke her mind. And yet she was a lady.
When he’d assisted her off the curricle, he’d been tantalized by the curve of her hip—a gentle slope formed with mostly taut flesh.
What would her skin feel like beneath his hands? Silky? Satiny?
The image of wide-open indigo eyes, staring up at him, hiding nothing of her own desire, edged him closer.
Addison.
His given name on her lips was an aphrodisiac in itself—lips that were pink and plump.
He imagined her unclothed, her breasts in his palms, her smooth back pressed against his chest while his cock throbbed between her legs. And those little breathy sounds she’d made when he’d nipped at the corner of her mouth. He’d taste that place on her neck where her pulse fluttered beneath tender skin, and then latch onto it, claiming her. He would lose himself in her heat as he moved in and out, penetrating deeper with each stroke.
So good. Her inner muscles would grip him tightly. She would be hot and wet. Gentle splashing sounds barely met Addison’s consciousness as he worked himself harder, eyes closed. She was riding him as he nipped at her breasts. She was so damned beautiful.
He jerked and held his breath when the inevitable lighting shot down his spine, killing him but also filling a void, making him whole and breaking him into a thousand pieces at the same time.
Seconds passed in which he returned to his surroundings, hearing the rain pouring on the window and aware the water in the copper tub had grown cold.
Climbing out, one hand braced against the wall, Addison didn’t dismiss the images of her that lingered in his mind.
He ran the towel over his shoulders, down his arms. He’d told Rowan she was beautiful, but there was more to her than that.
Her eyes, which were a normal shade of blue and ought to be nothing out of the ordinary, succeeded in pulling him directly into her thoughts. He had no power against the curiosity she evoked—when he was with her, they explored unexpected ideas and subjects in ways he’d never considered before.
