She told herself not to fall, not to drown in those silver pools as she had the night before, but it was difficult to stand against such a virile man. In an attempt to withstand the pull, she snorted. “In Greenwich? I’m sure you were instantly smitten.”
He shook his head as he touched the side of her face, and she leaned into the embrace, like a soul that was already lost and eager to complete the damnation. “In that club. You looked so lost, but also… brave and determined. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.” She shivered as he traced a finger down the side of her neck, but it wasn’t due to revulsion. “I can’t change who I was,” he uttered, as he leaned closer, until their lips were mere inches apart. “But I know I don’t want to stay on that path. I want to be different.”
She told herself not to be pulled deeper into his web but she couldn’t resist his siren’s call. It was deafening.
With a groan, she threw her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him as their mouths fused together. She wanted to resist the attraction, but the passion wouldn’t be denied. It was too strong, like a tidal wave of awareness that pulsed through her, telling her that she was alive. With every beat of her heart, she was drawn into the carnal world of desire. Her thighs burst into flames, her core pulsing with raw need.
Fleur had always thought of herself as a good person, doing her best to survive by honorable means, but perhaps she had a dark streak within her. It was surely the reason she was drawn to someone like Drake, a man who had sold his own soul several times over for personal gain. Or perhaps she wanted him because he was a fallen angel begging for a redemption, for a second chance. Forgiveness had been her largest failing when it came to Flavian. She supposed nothing had changed with Drake.
As he loved her, the anticipation rising within her was almost frightening in its intensity. Surely it had to be something devious and evil to allow her body to feel such strong sensations. And to allow the next words to tumble out of her mouth with such bold abandon. “Touch me, Drake.”
He didn’t hesitate or question her motives; he simply lifted her skirts and swiped his finger along her core. Splinters of white-hot light erupted throughout her body and she tensed, knowing the bittersweet pinnacle was already so close within her grasp. “More,” she panted. “Don’t stop.”
He readily obliged and without kisses or gentle prose, he took her to the heights of pleasure. Fleur’s eyes fluttered closed as she clutched his broad shoulders. Tremors wracked her body, and before she had enough time to recover her senses, she reached out and kissed him passionately. “Make me yours, Drake.Now.”
She didn’t have to ask twice.
He spun her around and as she clutched the bookcase, he impaled her from behind. She moaned when he filled her completely and without restraint. He answered with a low groan as he thrust in and out of her as if possessed. And perhaps he was, but it wasn’t some demonic force that propelled him.
As the ecstasy began to build higher, he lightly bit the curve of her bare shoulder. As he expelled everything that he had within her, Fleur found her second release.
She sobbed his name as her fingernails dug into the wood. Her head spun from the force of their tryst and it took a moment before she understood that he was pulling out of her.
As her focus began to clear from the lust filled haze, she could feel her skirts fall back into place. Now that their passions had cooled, Fleur wasn’t sure what to say or do. It wasn’t like last night when he had taken her virginity. Today was a new day filled with dark secrets and an eager, sexual coupling. It had nothing to do with tenderness or caring. This pairing had been heavy and demanding.
Raw.
Once Fleur had gathered her emotions enough to turn around, she acted as though they hadn’t shared anything untoward as she nodded toward the cot. “Is this where you sleep every night?”
He sighed, as if he didn’t want to have this conversation. “When I make it up here,” he said evenly. “Generally, I stay in the chair in my study.”
“That can’t be comfortable,” she noted primly.
“Trust me when I say I have not always had luxurious accommodations in my lifetime. The cot, or the chair, are better than many places I’ve tried to rest.” His eyes darkened. “Do you have an alternate suggestion?”
“Surely we can manage to stay in the same chamber, considering it was yours to begin with. Now that I have fulfilled my courtesan duties that you paid for so handsomely, I see no reason to keep you out.”
She swallowed hard over the lump of guilt in her throat. She had spoken harshly to Flavian before and had regretted it. No doubt it would be the same with Drake. She had wanted this—had practically demanded for him to turn her into a courtesan.
Last night she hadn’t felt like a fallen woman, just a changed one. Today, she understood there was no going back. She was effectively ruined. But not just her virtue.
She was ruined for all other men.
* * *
Drake despised uncomfortable silences,and after that little quip Fleur had made, the tension had returned with a vengeance. Determined to steer the conversation away from what had just happened, he gathered the lantern he’d left outside the door and led them back through the dark passage to the studio. “How did you find that room?”
“I noticed the slight difference in the wallpaper coloring and then the crooked light fixture.” She shrugged as he shut the wall. “It wasn’t difficult to figure out after that.”
“Hmm.” He silently admitted that he was impressed, but then he wondered if it was that easy for Fleur to learn his secrets, how easy would it be for someone else to do the same?
“Where were you all day?”
He had been anticipating the question earlier. Now it seemed even more dismal since she’d found his secret room that was no longer so secret. “I received word this morning that one of my lodging houses had been sent up in flames. When Amos and I went to investigate the claim, we discovered it was a total loss.”
He wasn’t surprised when she looked horrified. But that didn’t mean he approved.
In truth, he hated it. He didn’t want empathy. Or pity. He had never felt comfortable with people feeling sorry for him. She should understand, after seeing that room, that he didn’t deserve it. If there had been any time that he was worthy of such regard, it had long since passed when he’d started handing out his own brand of judgment.
