“Oh, not that,” he grunted.
She laughed. “No. This.”
She lowered herself to her knees before him and took him in her mouth. Her taste was all over him, pleasure and release, and it mixed with his clean flavor. She took him as deep as she could, stroking him with her hand and her tongue as his fingers came into her hair and he lifted to her. His legs were shaking, his breath was hard and without warning, he came.
She took every drop of him, reveling in him like he was fine wine. When she was done, he caught her arms and pulled her back onto the seat beside him. He kissed her deeply, rumbling at the taste of himself on her lips. Then he tucked her in beside him and just held her in silence for the remainder of the ride.
As they reached his home, she smiled up at him. “Are you going to put that lovely thing away or shock Poole entirely?”
Silas glanced down at his fall front, which was still unfastened. He shook his head. “Poole deserves a shock. He delights in his little acts of disrespect. As if I don’t know who I am and where I certainly don’t belong.”
She wrinkled her brow at the pain that laced those words. A man like Silas always appeared as if he didn’t give a damn about what others thought, but it was clear the servant’s disrespect rankled on some deep level.
He managed to tuck himself back into place before the carriage door opened. He stepped out first. Well, staggered was more like it. He barely managed to avoid depositing himself on the drive and braced himself on the carriage door with both hands as he leaned back in. “Are you coming?”
She realized she ought to say no. When she felt so much draw, she should always say no. But instead, she came down from the vehicle. “Gregson, wait here, will you? I think I must help poor Mr. Windham inside.”
“No, I—” he began, and then his knees wobbled a little.
She stepped up and slung his arm around her shoulders. “Lean on me. I’ll deliver you safely to your bed.”
“Mmmm, as long as you’re in it,” he grunted. They reached the door where Poole now stood. The butler looked down his nose at them even as he let them into the foyer. “Poole, how nice of you to greet us.”
“Quite,” Poole sniffed. “Are you well, sir?”
“He’s fine. Just a bit in his cups.”
Poole turned away and Arabella was certain he muttered something beneath his breath. She glared at him, but then drew Silas forward. There was no reason for him to have to spend even another moment in this vulnerable state with someone who was so cruel.
They somehow managed to get up the stairs and to his room. She got him inside the bedchamber and started to unfasten his jacket. He smiled down at her, the expression cock-eyed. “I like when you undress me.”
“I’m sure you do. You’re a man, after all,” she said, swatting his hands away when he tried to help or distract her. She pushed the jacket away and unwound his cravat so he wouldn’t choke himself on it. She unfastened his shirt and somehow he managed to get it off and only caught his head in it once.
“Lie on the bed,” she ordered, and couldn’t help but smile again as he staggered to it and flopped across it, his booted feet hanging off. “Look at you, still trying not to dirty the sheets even in this state. So polite.”
“I just want to dirty the sheets in more pleasurable ways,” he hiccupped, and then stared at her a moment as she struggled to get his boots off. “I mean with you.”
“Yes, I got that.” She smiled at him. “I like this Silas. He’s a very silly man.”
She expected him to smile or reach for her again. Instead, his expression grew darker. Sadder. “Silas isn’t silly. He’s rotten.” He sighed, a broken sound that made her turn her head. Then he did reach for her. “Tell Poole to send your carriage away and just stay here and fuck me.”
“Men are such singular creatures,” she said.
“You don’t have to fuck me, then. Just stay with me,” he corrected himself. “Warm everything up with your sun.”
“My sun?” she repeated. “I don’t think anyone has called my quim that.”
His expression grew softer. “Not that.You. You are the sun, Arabella.”
She stared at him, this now far past half-drunk man who was telling her she was the sun. Many men had given her compliments over the years, none of them left much of an impression, but this one felt powerful. Like the brightness everyone else tried to dim was so lovely to him.
She turned away, trying to regain some purchase over herself when her heart was throbbing traitorously and her hands were shaking.
“You—you are very sweet when you’re drunk, Silas,” she said. “But I would wager what you really need is a good sleep. So I should go.”
She waited for him to argue. To repeat the request. If he did, she wasn’t certain she was strong enough to refuse him. After all, what he asked for was what she wanted, herself. She wanted very much to climb into his bed and into his arms. She wanted to have him again, that longing didn’t cease, but then she just wanted to stay. To wake up with him as she had a few days before, and watch the shafts of light around the curtain illuminate his handsome face.
She blinked at the intimacy her mind created. Then she turned back toward him. To her surprise, he was not waiting to argue with her, but he was asleep. It seemed like that last drink had finally fully entered his bloodstream and taken over whatever control the man had over himself.
