She watched, her lips swollen and burning from his. A laborer’s hand rested at the flap.
“Rose?” His voice, a husky resonance, went deep beneath her skin. Gooseflesh prickling.
She lifted her eyes to his and swallowed hard at the desire that shimmered from him. She was barely aware of her head moving, acknowledging her consent.
The flap fell open, and he dropped to his knees. His large, broad hands framed her face, and he kissed her again with a velvety stroke of his tongue. One of those hands moved to her ankle and smoothed up her leg. A yearning so powerful engulfed her, swept away her furling doubts. Longing pooled between her legs, and her hips lifted. His lips moved to her neck.
“God’s teeth, you’ll be the death of—” He cut off his own words by taking her mouth again.
Desperate. Unguarded.
This one held something else entirely. Panic. Fear. Possession.
For one heartbeat, she froze. But his hand moved to the heart of her. She was wet with need. Something she’d never experienced before. His fingers dipped inside, and she nearly squealed.
Without another word, he was above her and pushing a pulsing staff inside her. Before he’d seated himself, an explosion of sensation soared, pushing her over an unseen cliff with no apparatus to catch her fall. She clawed at his shoulders while the emotions roiled through her with a sting behind her eyes and her body pulsating.
She clung to him with her arms tight about his neck and her legs across his bum. This…this was nothing like Stanford.
In one, two, three pumps, Emerson’s head lifted, his neck straining. He quickly buried his mouth against her shoulder and let loose a muffled roar while that impressive staff throbbed within her.
Slowly, he lifted his head, but she kept her eyes tightly shut, terrified the tears she’d willed back would betray her.
“Did I hurt you?” The words, a soft growl, seeped into her bones.
“No,” she whispered. What the devil was she thinking?
And just like that, Adventurous Rose soared back. She moved her hands to his shoulders and attempted to shove him away, but he leaned in and feathered his lips over hers.
She closed her eyes again, hating her betraying body.
“I didn’t come here for…this…”
The words hurt. Her eyes flew open. “Don’t,” she snapped, her voice harsh and shaking. “Get off me.”
“I will not be ignored,” he said roughly, still catching his breath.
“Neither will I. Ever. Never again. I’m worth more than that!” She shook her head as reality blasted back. Her hands flew up. She planted them on his chest and shoved. Of course, to no avail. The man was as stout as English oak. “I was ready to leave. Show up atyourdoor. To…to warn you, you pompous ass—” She stopped, stunned with her loss of temper.
Her hands squeezed into fists. Never in her life had she even uttered such a word as…asass. Not even to that insolent coxcomb of a husband she’d been foolish enough to wed. “I…I thought you might be in danger.”
Emerson slowly pulled his body from hers, wincing, and rolled off her. “Me? In danger?”
“Yes, you fool!” she said, flustered, shoving her skirts down and sitting up. “I had a visit from my sister and sister-in-law not twenty minutes past. My brother knows someone rifled through his desk.” Exasperation pelted her. “They also mentioned Shufflebottom’s. It’s been concluded the search took place during the masquerade.”
His expression shifted. “That libertine never saw our faces.” He stood and, with a few efficient moves, put his clothes to rights then strode across the room and poured two glasses of the brandy he’d sent over. She should have railed at him for taking the liberty, but she didn’t have it in her.
He was back in a thrice and held one out. “Is that all they said?”
She accepted the reprieve with great vigor because, well, she felt a little desperate for normalcy. “Just that the papers were disturbed. Touched.”
“Hell,” he muttered, then tossed back the contents of his glass.
Her own brandy burned down her throat. She inhaled through her nose then let it out through pursed lips. “Have you any luck toward locating your blackmailer?” she asked, staring into the fire to avoid his eyes.
Someone tapped at the door.
Panic spiked through her. “Blast,” she whimpered.
