Oy, she was in over her head—and not just because she’d almost been caught.
Tracking down the valet of some marquess’s younger son was not as easy as it sounded. Why a man like that, one with a good job, had gotten himself into the sights of the stranger who’d hired her was another question. He must owe a lot of money to someone. Nevertheless, those details were not of her concern.
No, her concern was finishing her task, so to secure more jobs in the future as Ned had been good to his word and no one else would hire her now. At least that had been her sole concern, until—against her better judgment—she’d allowed herself to be lured into blasted Solomon Weiss’s house.
Now she desperately needed to stay above the undertow pulling her out to sea. Or more fittingly, into the grimy river. Drowning her in a heady mixture of lust and what could only be deemed chutzpah, coming from a place in her she’d believed lost long ago.
“A bath?” he repeated.
“Yes.” She straightened herself, so they were practically eye to eye, forcing her well-honed and well-earned toughness into her voice. “I want a bath.” Thatat least was the truth. She did want a bath. Very much. Even though, given the time it would take to draw one—not to mention the manpower—it was probably not possible.
But for a little while, she wanted to believe in the impossible, to believe she was on equal footing with this altogether too charming and too wealthy and too tempting man. Because hewasa man, no matter how many times she called him a boy. And a dangerous one at that. At least to her.
“All right.” He nodded. “If you react less than I do, you shall have a bath.”
They stared at each other for a long moment, neither moving, neither backing down from the challenge that had been issued. The shared stubbornness inflamed that palpable, ill-advised desire that they should be trying to kill. Somehow.
“Who attempts first?” he finally asked, shifting on his bare feet. His rather well-formed, clean, long toes, which she shouldn’t be staring at. Oy, she was a mess. Since when had she noticed a man’s toes before? If there was ever a sign she should run… however, her own, rather ordinary, booted feet wouldn’t move.
Traitors.Ah, well, it was up to her brain to keep her pride safe, she supposed.
“I’d say that since you started this discussion, the honors are all yours.” She punctuated the statement with her most flippant hand gesture.
For a long, awful moment he did nothing. Had she pressed too far? Had he merely been teasing with no intention of following through?
Instead, he stalked around her, so he was at her back. He wrapped a thinly clad arm around her waist, holdingher to his chest, taking full advantage of the similarities in their heights to—oh—my god—he bit down gently on the outer edge of her ear, his tongue quickly following to sooth the skin, his breath sending a hot flush down her spine and—it was good that he was holding her because her legs began to buckle under the weight of the sheer deliciousness of it all.
Careful and achingly slow, he traced the tender skin of her ear. Hannah closed her eyes as the moan she was trying to hold back—because, god, she wanted that bath—burst from her lips. And in an instant, her back arched and she was pressing her hips against him as he held her.
Want—hot and real and naked—rippled through every inch of her body as his fingers danced across her stomach below, tracing patterns lower and lower, as above his mouth curved around, taking her lobe and gently sucking. The room spun as Hannah near panted with desire. She fisted the edges of his expensive but all too flimsy shirt, creasing the fabric that probably cost what the shop made in a month. When he grazed her again with his teeth, well, her senses fled and she cried out his name, probably too loud to protect his “virtue” or whatever goyishe phrase his brother probably used.
Though he took care of that, taking her mouth in his, claiming her and the sound in a resounding victory.
At least for round one.
“First, let’s agree there’s no more ‘Weiss.’ I believe you’ve, or perhaps we should say ‘I’ve,’ earned ‘Sol,’ or at least ‘Solomon.’ And second, how was that?” the momzer asked as he pulled away, leaving her body tingling and, worse, craving. An odiously handsome grin curled his lips. “Fairly successful, don’t you think?” Heradiated a smug pride that for some reason made her want him more.
Or to at least show him how much better it could be.
“It was good,” she admitted, folding her arms across her chest. She still had her pride, after all.
“Just good?” he asked, reaching out and playfully tugging a stray strand of hair that had fallen from its worn and bent pins before smoothing and replacing it with a gentle tap.
And the tenderness in that gesture, the care, amid all the lust twisted something in her gut. Her vision blurred and it took everything in her to pull herself back to the moment, back to the here and now and its possibilities, limited though they might be.
“More than good,” she admitted despite herself. “But I can do better.” Because she could. She was the dangerous one, after all. She’d made herself powerful, in or out of her own territory. And she would prove it, damn it. No matter how ill advised.
He—Weiss—Sol—placed his hands on his hips with a grin. “Let’s see.”
“Lie on the bed,” she told him with the most imperious tone she could muster.
His chin tilted and he raised both brows. “I don’t remember the bed being involved in any of our prior negotiations.”
Hannah wet her lips. Yes, she was going to retake control. “It wasn’t not involved.” She shrugged. “There’s no rules against me utilizing it for leverage.”
“‘Leverage’?” Sol laughed a little. “That’s an interesting choice of words.” But he obeyed, climbing on the high posted bed, covered with thick red fabric that near glowed in the firelight. He lay back on his stack offluffy pillows, legs splayed forward. With a stretch that pulled his shirt tantalizingly tight against his chest, he placed his hands behind his head and stared at her. “All right, now that you have me here, what are you going to do with me? How does this ‘leverage’ work?”
Without a word, Hannah hitched her skirts and climbed, first next to him. And then, with all the boldness she could muster, she placed one leg on each side of his, straddling his body, her skirts high enough they pooled above her knees.
