He pulled her tight against his hips, and her head fell back.Heat flooded her, up her spine, across her chest, blooming in low, overwhelming places she didnotdare acknowledge.Her heart thundered wildly.Her breath stuttered in her throat.She felt?—
She felteverything.
“Nicholas,” she managed, though it emerged as a gasp, not a warning.
He froze immediately.Not pushing her away, but holding perfectly still, like a man poised on a precipice.
He tipped her head toward his, his forehead resting lightly against hers, their breaths mingling, both of them shaking.
“I’ll stop,” he murmured, voice hoarse, “if you ask me to.”
He meant it.
She could feel that truth vibrating beneath his skin, see it in the strain tightening his jaw, the fear and desire warring in his eyes.
She should stop this.She should climb off his lap and move away before her body gave away every last secret she possessed.He did not yet know her secret.And when he found out, he might well hate it.It was unfair of her to continue this.
But when his hand slid, slowly, reverently, along the curve of her waist, when his thumb brushed the narrowest part of her stays with breathtaking tenderness…
Something inside her simply gave way.
Her fingers skimmed his rough cheek, then curved around the back of his neck.She drew him closer until his breath ghosted across her parted lips.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered.
He stilled.Completely.
Then—very slowly—his hands moved again, tracing the line of her waist, her back, her hips with a kind of worship that made her body tremble against his.He kissed her again.God, hekissedher—slow and deep, as though savoring every moment.
Sensation built—too much, too fast, too startling—and the carriage seemed to shrink with every breath they shared.The night outside disappeared.The house.The city.The world.
There was only this.
Only him.
Only the dangerous, impossible, world-altering truth that she wanted him with a ferocity she had never known.
He broke the kiss first—barely—pressing his forehead to hers again, both of them gasping.
“If you’ll regret this tomorrow,” he said quietly, “tell me now.”
She stared at him, chest heaving, lips swollen, pulse racing, every nerve alight.
Regret?
Tomorrow?
No.God, no.
But she had done something unforgivable.Something that would come crashing down the moment his Bow Street Runner discovered the truth,ifhe discovered the truth.Guilt flickered up, sharp and panicked.She had to say something, tell him some truth, even if it wasn’t everything.
“For so long… I thought…” She swallowed, unable to look away from him.“I thought you only wanted to win.”
His jaw tightened.“Win what?”
“Me.My father’s approval.Your political future.”She tried to laugh.“All of it.”
The pain that crossed his face was brief but unmistakable.
