She wrapped a hand into his collar and tugged upward until he stood. She made short work of his clothing, desperate to feel his bare skin beneath her fingers. Then, when he too was stripped, she gently pushed him backward, the backs of his knees hitting the bed, and he went down softly, his eyes wide in surprise as his head hit the pillow.
She climbed on top of him, her sex pulsating. A raw need was building there. She could feel herself get hot and slick. The sensitive bundle of nerves that he’d used to bring her to collapse called out for his attentions. She sank her hips toward him, grinding herself along the long, thick edge of his cock. They groaned in unison.
Without conscious thought, she continued to rock her hips back and forth, rubbing her clitoris on his shaft over and over, feeling the swell of pleasure but never the crest. She closed her eyes, channeling all of her senses to that building exhilaration.
“Fiona,” Edward groaned. “Please.” His hands found her hips and she knew what he wanted. She lifted a little, positioning herself over him. He reached down a hand and gently guided his cock so it sat at the entrance of her, a thrill going through her body at the feel of him.
Slowly, she lowered her hips, shuddering as she stretched to fit him. Edward’s sharp hiss and the way his fingers dug into her thighs as she sank down made her heart beat double time. When she took those last few inches—seated herself fully on his cock—a pleasurable pain pushed at the very core of her.
She resumed her back and forth motion, once again grinding against him, the wiry strands of his hair creating an almost-unbearable friction. The fullness of him was what she’d been missing. With him deep inside her, the wave of pleasure quickly dwarfed anything she’d felt previously. She collapsed forward, bracing her arms on his chest as she continued to ride him hard.
“Oh, God.” He thrust his hips, driving himself farther into her, and she cried out at the intensity of it. Again and again. His hands held her firm against his cock and she rubbed herself over him.
Eyes closed, lost in a sea of flames, the blaze built until she was a raging forest fire, and then she exploded, wave after wave of pleasure causing her toes to curl and fingertips to dig into his flesh. She could feel her sex clenching over and over as she spasmed.
She collapsed fully this time, her head resting in the hollow of his neck, her hands wrapped into his hair as he, too, found release, grabbing her arse and thrusting into her. Beneath her, she could hear the wild staccato of his heartbeat and the pant of his breath, the damp coolness of his sweat at her lips.
She could stay like this forever, with nothing between them. Not even clothes. Not even space.
But she didn’t have forever, and the salt of his sweat mixed with the salt of her tears until she didn’t know where she ended and he began.
Chapter 26
Despite all that was weighing on her, despite the dangers posed by the duchess and Luella, Finley still joined Edward and Charlotte that night at a ball. Edward’s logic, which she reluctantly agreed with, was that not attending Lady Mottram’s event would raise his mother’s suspicions further, and they would be better served by pretending all was well.
All was definitelynotwell.
The duchess’s interrogation of Finley lasted the entire carriage ride. Where she could, Fiona told the truth. The fewer lies she had to keep track of the better. But even the truths were told with as much brevity as possible, because there was a constant low level of nausea that threatened to rise each time she opened her mouth.
Once they’d entered the ballroom, she was flinching at shadows, waiting to be accosted by Lady Luella, sure that tonight she would be publicly exposed.
She was too distracted to dance, too fearful to flirt, and when she tried to escape into the card room, she was faced with Lord Chester. There was no making light conversation over the tables with the man who held her entire future in his hands.
Every moment she was there, the nausea increased until she was breathing with short, shallow breaths. She could not play at this life while her actual life went up in flames. Not when there was something else she could be doing to rescue her deal with Chester.
After a scant hour, she feigned a headache and excused herself. “Stay,” she said, when Edward went to leave with her. “No one will miss me, but your departure will raise eyebrows.”
Grudgingly, he agreed, which left Fiona free to do what she needed to—break into her father’s apartment and steal back her matches, sketches, and reports. She’d racked her brain all day for another solution but couldn’t see one. Alastair had made it clear familial loyalty meant nothing to him, and she’d seen enough of Tucker to know that he couldn’t be reasoned with.
Once back at Wildeforde House, she donned black trousers, comfortable black boots, a black shirt, and an oversized black coat. She crept through the hallways, keeping to dark corners and shadows where she could. She took the back stairs to avoid being seen by Simmons and any Home Office investigator that might be watching out front.
There was no moonlight, just the flickering of lamps guttering in the wind. A light rain started to fall, and she wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. In the shadows, she waited for a cab to come past while running through tonight’s plan.
Have the driver deposit her three streets from her father’s apartments.
Make her way to his building without being seen.
Find a way to break in.
Take back her work so that Alastair couldn’t use it to arrange a false patent.
Go to Lord Chester so she could make the deal. So she could stop lying to Edward. So she could stop lying to everyone.
Number three might prove difficult. She had no idea how to pick a lock.
She was so intent on getting her plan just right, she didn’t realize someone had crept up beside her.
“What the devil are you doing?”
