Shallow breaths escape my throat. My hand shudders as I lower it. “And for you?”
He tucks a few curls behind my ear, expression softening. “Aye, Luv. Ye can touch me now. Butovermy trousers. We’ll save it all for the ball. I want you desperate for me, as desperate as I am for you.”
I press my hand against him, feeling the hard length through the fabric, and he throbs.
My lips part.Oh.I’m getting a betterscopeof it.
“Ack.” He waves a hand dismissively, but his lust doesn’t escape me. “One of my exes made me measure it once. Eight inches—nine if I’m fierce worked up, like I am now—if it matters to ye.”
An ache deepens inside my core. “Would you think less of me if I said it does matter?”
He moves closer, grinding against my hand, rumbling a low groan. “Nah, Luv. Flattered. Every part of your body matters to me. Is my business, Darlin’. And ye can make mine your business, too.”
I squeeze him, and a cute little smile tugs at my lips. “Well, I like to mix business with pleasure.”
He brushes his knuckles along my cheek. “Fecking perfect, sweet girl. Alright, Lexie Luv. That’s enough mirror steaming for now. Time to get you out of that dress before I forget we’ve got a ball to attend and River starts banging down the door.”
I laugh, breathless and dizzy, and he steps back, giving me a little space.
But the heat in his eyes doesn’t fade.
And neither does the promise.
CHAPTER 12
Liam
Thornfield Manor rises from the landscape like something out of a Gothic Revival fairy tale.
I’ve been here before—years ago, when Conor O’Connell first bought the place and needed help dealing with some unsavory characters trying to muscle in on his investment. But seeing it now, through Lexie, it’s like I’m seeing it for the first time again.
The manor itself is massive: stone turrets and arched windows, ivy crawling along the walls. It’s beautiful in a dark but elegant way. The kind of place that makes you think of secrets and shadows and things that go bump in the night.
Perfect for a masked ball.
“Oh my God,” Lexie gushes from the seat beside me, her face pressed to the window. “Liam, look at it. It’s like something out of a movie.”
I glance at her, and her wonder does something to my chest. It tightens, like my heart has grown too big for it. Something no woman has ever done.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispers.
“Aye,” I say, but I’m not looking at the manor. I’m looking at her, the light etched all over her features.
In the front passenger seat, River twists around, gesturing proudly. “Told you it would be worth it, babes.”
The car pulls up to the front entrance, where valets in period costumes wait to open the doors. I step out first, then offer my hand to Lexie. She takes it, her fingers small and warm in mine when she emerges from the car.
Her dress catches the light from the manor’s windows, sparkling like pink diamonds. I must resist running my hands over every inch of her open back. An elaborate side braid holds her copper-gold curls, compliments of River. A few loose tendrils touch her cheeks.
And the mask.
It’s delicate: red fabric with white floral embroidery, simple but elegant. It covers the upper half of her face, leaving her lips bare. Those soft, pink lips I’ve been dying to taste.
“You’re staring,” she says, practically glowing.
“Aye.” I don’t bother denying it. Not with the heat rushing to my groin. “Can’t help meself.”
River emerges from the car, and she’s a vision. Jewels encrust her ornate mask, and her dress shimmers like the dawn. She looks like a queen.
