Arabella continued to smile, but Silas caught the flicker of concern at the edges. She was worried about her sister, it seemed.
“Well, perhaps the next gentleman you make an arrangement with will take you traveling,” Arabella said.
Julia dipped her head. “Perhaps.” When she lifted her head again, any worries were gone. “Well, I’ve been chatting all night with dearest Bianca. Her parting wasnoton mutual terms, Arabella, I have all the details for later. But I told her I’d come spend a night with her and have breakfast tomorrow, so I’ll travel home in her carriage.”
At that, Arabella’s hand tightened a little on Silas’s inner elbow. He glanced at her. “So I have you all to myself.”
“It seems you do. I wonder what you shall ever do with me.”
“I don’t,” he said.
Julia rolled her eyes playfully. “And that is my cue to leave. Goodnight, dearest.” She leaned forward and kissed Arabella’s cheek and then extended her hand to Silas. “And goodnight, Silas. It’s not every day you meet a man of such legend. You did live up to the talk.”
“Go away,” Arabella said, her tone still filled with teasing.
Julia slipped into the crowd with a light laugh and Silas pivoted toward Arabella. Even a little tipsy, he just couldn’t get enough of her face. He reached up to trace the line of her jaw with a fingertip and watched the shiver move through her in response.
“Should we have another drink?” he asked.
“No, I think we should go get in my carriage and go back to your home,” she said with a falsely innocent smile. “Right now, if you please.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” he said, and drew her toward the door and whatever the rest of the night would bring.
* * *
The moment they got into her carriage and the vehicle began to move, Silas came across the gap between them and pinned her to the wall behind her. His mouth was harsh and hot against hers, all semblance of control wiped away by the handful of drinks he’d partaken in during their night of cards.
She rather liked this untethered version of him. How hungry he was for her. She was certainly equally filled with heat and desire for him.
His hands roved, fingers gripping and massaging and flicking as she rose beneath him, sucking his tongue, nipping his lower lip.
He rumbled with pleasure as she did so and began to drag her skirt up her legs. His palm skimmed her stocking, thumb stroking the spot where her bare skin began.
“I wanted to do this all night,” he murmured against her throat. “Watching you drove me mad.”
She gasped as he cupped her sex, thick fingers opening her and stroking her right to the edge of madness with such speed that she felt like she was the one who was a little tipsy, not him.
She caught his lapels and deepened the kiss, tasting the liquor and desire on him in equal measure. When she pulled away, she held his stare and flicked her head toward the seat next to her.
“Sit,” she ordered.
He arched a brow at her and she waited for his response. Would he deny her and engage in a battle? That could be fun. Or would he acquiesce and let her do what they both wanted?
He did the latter and eased onto the carriage seat next to her. She moved to straddle his leg and just before she kissed him again, she whispered, “Good boy.”
He chuckled against her tongue, but then the humor was gone. Their mouths warred, desperate and heated. He got his hands back under her dress and cupped her bare backside to grind her against him. And somehow she managed to wedge a hand between them to unfasten his fall front.
He was hard already. She’d known that from the first moment he pressed against her and she could feel him there, this luscious treat just waiting for her to claim.
So she did. She claimed him in one heavy, slick slide that took him inside to the hilt. They both shuddered. He rested his head on her shoulder, his breath harsh as she began to ride him.
She watched him as she rode. In his slightly inebriated state, his expression was a little softer, even in his pleasure. Like some fraction of his mask had slipped. All his need, all his longing, all his pleasure was reflected on every line of him. He moaned louder, he gripped her tighter, she saw him lose himself in the way her body rolled over him and when he rapped his head back against the carriage seat and grunted out, “Arabella,” the power of it was almost too much.
She arched, her orgasm rolling through her in long, heavy waves. He watched her from below, eyes wide as she threw her head back and took every drop of the pleasure.
Normally she would have continued that way, taking him until he felt close to the brink and then trusting him to shift her away so he could spend. But tonight was different because of his state. She could see he was beginning to feel the effect of the last drink he’d had before they left. He might not be able to stop himself when his own orgasm hit.
So she removed herself from over him.
