She arched a brow and then leaned up on her elbow. “Didn’t you ever have a mistress before, Blackburn?”
He nodded. “Of course, but this is diff—” He cut himself off. He couldn’t say that. Wouldn’t say it at any rate. He tried again. “We didn’t exactly start this arrangement in the normal way, did we?”
“No,” she said. “We didn’t. But there’s not really anything difficult to it, is there? You wanted to pretend an affair to tweak our former lovers. This will simply become arealaffair and we’ll still flaunt it.”
“Is there a risk to that? Of everything becoming…confused?”
She tilted her head. “What is there to confuse? Sex isn’t the same as emotion. If we want to enjoy each other, there’s no reason that it has to go beyond that.”
He nodded slowly. She was being entirely reasonable, of course. And if he felt a little disappointed in that pragmatism, it was probably because he had equated sex with love…or at least affection…since his marriage. And since Florence had demanded a divorce, he hadn’t really wanted pleasure. Until Evie.
“The only questions we really must answer are the same ones all lovers must establish in a situation like this: How often would you like to do this and is there anything you don’t want to do?”
“As far not wanting to do anything, I can’t think of anything specific. Perhaps we can discover those things as we go.” He let his hand trail along her bare sides. “And as for how often…well, as often as you’ll let me touch you, Evie. I don’t think I’ll tire of this, of you, any time soon.”
She smiled softly and shifted, straddling him in one smooth movement. She rocked back, letting his cock slide along her wet length as she balanced herself on his chest with both hands.
“Neither will I.” She rocked back again and this time maneuvered so that he slid into her an inch. The tight heat of her enveloped him fully on the second stroke and he moaned as he reached up to cup her hips.
She rode him then, a glorious siren whose dark hair bobbed around her shoulders and back as she ground herself against him. And as he lost himself in her, in the pleasure, in the heat of this, the rest fell away and it was a welcome oblivion.
CHAPTER12
It had been two days since they’d first made love at her home. And though they’d moved to his estate at some point, other than that Vaughn had barely come up for air. It had been a long time since he’d been so tangled with a lover, unable to do anything but want to touch her, but Evie inspired that and he was vastly content to spend hours in her bed or his, exploring her body and every way he could make her twist and moan.
The door to the breakfast room opened and he blinked away the thoughts as he watched the woman, herself, enter. It was far too late for breakfast, of course. Almost noon, because it had taken them two hours to manage to get out of his bed this morning and make their way down.
“Good morning,” he said, grasping the hand she offered to him and kissing her knuckles lightly. “I like your hair that way.”
She reached up to touch the loosely bound locks and blushed very prettily. He did love to make her blush. “Thank you.”
“There’s whatever the poor staff could manage for a spread at this hour.” He motioned to the sideboard and went back to his paper. His gaze flitted over the gossip section, blind items about those in Society, and smiled as he recognized one about himself. Not about the divorce, but about his new mistress. Good. That was the point of this exercise.
Well, it didn’t feel exactly like the point anymore, but he was simply caught up in the throughs of passion. When that faded, this would be left and it would help.
Evie took a seat beside him and began to pull apart the flaky layers of his cook’s famous vanilla custard croissant. She licked a little of the custard from her thumb and he shook his head.
“We’re not going to make it out of the bed long if you keep doing that,” he said with a laugh.
She met his gaze and licked the same thumb again, this time while making eye contact, but then she smiled. “I am innocently eating my food, my lord. You really must learn a little self-control.”
“Must I?” he asked, and pushed the paper away.
He sipped his tea as she went back to eating. This all felt so…easy. It had never been easy with Florence. Their marriage had been arranged, she’d never been comfortable when they were alone, always surrounding them with friends and family. He realized now in retrospect that it was a way to keep him and whatever feelings he felt for her at arm’s length.
“Oh, your face just went very dark, that won’t do,” Evie said, and covered his hand with hers. “You know, it’s a lovely day and you’re so close to Hyde Park. Why don’t we walk over and we can sit in the glorious sunshine on a blanket together and read from the Cook biography?”
“The one you stole from my bedside table the moment you entered my chamber for the first time?” he teased. “Little thief.”
“You’ve caught me. My entire purpose in this arrangement was to obtain access to your room so I might take the book.” She held up her hands. “You may take me away, lock me up for good.”
There was such a brightness to her as she teased that he felt drawn to her. It was positively magnetic, unavoidable. He leaned in, cupped her cheek and said, “It’s not a bad idea, having you all to myself.” He kissed her before she could respond and tasted the vanilla custard on her tongue. Just as sweet as she was and he licked his lips as they parted. “What did you ask me? My mind is suddenly addled by a certain someone.”
“Hyde Park,” she said, her breath short. “Sitting on a blanket. Reading about Cook.”
“Oh. Yes. That would be lovely. Finish your breakfast and we can go straight away since it’s so late.”
She nodded and the rest of the meal was shared in contented silence. He gave over half the paper, she read her bits and he continued with his own. If she saw the blind item about them, she gave no indication. Eventually, she pushed her plate away and smiled. “All ready.”
