“How will I hurt myself?” she asked. Suddenly she felt so damned tired. Too tired to dance around the subject. “I’m ruined by the actions of my sisters, ruined by the scar on my face. My father has no intention of bringing me out again—he’s all but vowed I will be his hostess and secretary until he gives over his life. By then, I will be a spinster who will be forced to depend on the kindness of family. I am resigned to that, Ellis. Please don’t make me give up this one last chance I have to feel…to feel…”
“You cannot even name it,” he whispered. “Don’t you see what a problem that is?”
“I want to feel good,” she said, glaring at him. “I want to feel that dam of pleasure that builds when I touch myself at night. I want to feel the shivers of release like I do then. But I want to feel them with another person. I want to feel them withyou. And if you won’t do it to slake your own desire, or to get the information I can provide, then I suppose I must remind you that you owe me.”
“I owe you,” he said. “How is that?”
She turned her face, flashing the scar that marred her skin. “You know why.”
It wasn’t a fair accusation, at least not entirely, but Ellis flinched at it regardless. He seemed to ponder the request…well, not a request, really. She was ordering him, wasn’t she? Forcing him through rather underhanded methods, truth be told. And she fully expected for him to put her in his carriage again and drive her home again and tell her…again…not to return. That was their game, after all, or it had become that in the past few days.
If he denied her this time, she would probably follow that directive at last. Coming back here over and over without getting what she wanted was too difficult. This was her last chance.
He moved forward, and she braced herself for some kind of playful, gentle denial. He reached for her, his rough fingers sliding along her jawline, his thumb pressing her lower lip as he stared down at her with those bright blue eyes.
“Then I owe you,” he said softly, hypnotically. “And the bill has come due.” He nodded slowly. “Very well.”
She didn’t have a chance to respond to the unexpected capitulation. He bent his head and, for the second time in their brief acquaintance, he kissed her.
For a moment, only their lips touched. He wasn’t holding her, he wasn’t pressed against her. It was just his mouth on hers, gentle, lips closed.
He was holding back and her frustration ratcheted up. This wasn’t what she wanted. Well, itwas. Even this chaste kiss was…lovely. It was lovely, for his full lips were warm and soft against hers, the brush of them sending little crackles of awareness through her.
But she didn’t want crackles. She wanted lightning bolts and explosions. She lifted up on her tiptoes, winding her arms around his neck as a rough sound exited his lungs. She recalled how his mouth had opened the last time they kissed, so she did the same, drawing her tongue across his closed lips.
“Fuck,” he muttered against her mouth. His hands settled on her hips, and he tugged her a fraction closer as he tilted his head for a better angle. His tongue met hers and the world spun off its axis as she drowned.
He delved into her with great gusto, tasting her like she was a fine meal and he a man starved. He dueled with her tongue, sucking and swirling around it. And all the while, he inched her closer and closer, molding her body to his until there was no space between them.
Her heart pounded as she clung to him, a hard, powerful rock in the midst of a sea of desire. He was both the cause of her need and the salvation she would find from it. Assuming he wouldn’t deny her again.
She couldn’t take it if he denied her.
But he seemed to be in no hurry to do so. He slid his fingers into her hair, cupping her scalp as pins pinged on the floor around their feet. Her hair fell around them and he pulled back, panting as he stared down at her.
“So lovely,” he breathed, wrapping a long strand of hair around one finger. He lifted it to his nose and took a long whiff. “Vanilla and lemon.”
She smiled. “My soap,” she explained.
He leaned closer, to where their lips nearly touched. “Let’s find out if you smell that way everywhere.”
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t get a chance to question that statement, because his mouth was on her again, silencing her questions as he backed her toward the bed in the middle of the big room. She expected him to toss her on the mattress, lift her skirts and do what he would do. She was shaking with the thought of it.
But he didn’t. They stood beside that bed, inches from where all her problems would be resolved, and he simply held her. His arms were warm, his mouth gentle as he just kept kissing her like he could live that way forever.
She was shaking with anticipation and she drew back to look up at him. He smiled down at her in the soft light of the room. “You know, I’ve never had a lady scowl at me while I was attempting seduction. You are very unique.”
She hated that she wanted to laugh at that quip. This was serious business. He ought not to be joking around at a time like this.
“You arenotseducing, though,” she pointed out. “You’re just standing here kissing me.”
His smile flashed wider for a moment. “Always a challenge. You don’t like it when I kiss you?”
She shifted. “I-I like it very much. It’s all I’ve thought of since the last time it happened. But I know full well that this…” She waved one hand around them. “…this isn’t just about kissing. If you’re going to do what I want, I’m just wonderingwhenyou’re going to do it.”
His brow wrinkled. “While I applaud your singular dedication, this entire thing is going to be much more pleasurable if you let the person with experience manage it. I realize that’s difficult for you.”
Her lips parted at that offhand comment. “It—it’s not difficult. I’m not so controlling.”
