Revealing Ruby by Lavinia Kent

about managing men that she did remember. His warm skin shifted at her touch, and he turned toward her.
    “What did you mean then?” he asked.
    How to phrase it? “I am confused and I do not like being confused. When I came to the bath tonight I had one idea of what would happen between us, and to be frank, it did not include much conversation. I rarely share things about myself with others and I sense that you are the same. Am I wrong?”
    “No, you are not wrong.”
    She focused her gaze on the indent below his throat, such an innocent spot, a vulnerable spot. “Let me give you choices. A, tonight was the end, a simple meeting of flesh for mutual pleasure and to relieve the pressure of desire. B, this was wonderful, more than expected. Let’s do it again when chance permits. C, you love me and want to stay with me forever. Let’s do this again and again and then you’ll sweep me away to wedded bliss.”
    He chuckled deep in his chest. “Not the last, but then you knew that. And you’d probably say no.”
    It was her turn to chuckle. “Yes, I would. Why give up all this and be respectable?” Sitting in bed, letting the sheet fall to her waist, she gestured about the chamber.
    His eyes fastened on her bare breasts.
    Ah, men, always the same.
    “Are you calling me respectable?” he asked, his grin widening.
    Where had this man come from? He was certainly not the same one she’d escorted to this chamber last night. “No, I would never dream of it, although I think you care for the title more than you would ever admit.”
    “And I might say the same.”
    She would ignore that. Thinking about respectability never led anywhere she wished to go. “Are you avoiding my question? If this thing between us could go anywhere you wished, where would that be?” She let her face turn serious. He might not wish to answer the question, and she had little wish to pressure him, but she did need to know.
    “I don’t know.” His own grin dropped. “All of the above. Yes, there is even a bit of C. I might not wish to wed you, but I could fuck you forever.”
    And wasn’t that just what every girl dreamed of hearing? Sliding from the bed, she picked up his fallen shirt and wrapped it tight about herself as she went to peek through the closed drapes. The streets were dark, save for the faint glow of the oil lamps, but she did not care. She was looking more into her soul than out the window. She had asked, she could not blame him for answering.
    And what did she want anyway? She certainly did not want forever. Although, as she cast a glance at him over her shoulder, admiring the way his long naked form filled the bed, she did have to admit that she too could have fucked him forever. It was pointless to let his words disappoint her. Madame Rouge was far beyond disappointment.
    Pushing her cheeks up in a smile, she turned back. “Forgive me. I am discovering that even I, like other women, can become a trifle emotional after sex. I know it is not what men want to deal with. I think at heart my question was more practical in nature. I refuse to have it known that I have taken a lover. It would, in truth, cause me nothing but difficulties. We could meet here perhaps one more night, but then my staff will begin to wonder why you are willing to pay so much for a room you occupy alone. Neither of us wants that speculation.”
    He sat on the bed, swinging his muscled legs over the edge. “You are correct. And I do understand.” He ran a hand through his hair and it was hard to imagine the laughing man of moments before.
    What did she want his answer to be? One was always more likely to succeed if one actually knew what one wanted.
    She wanted him.
    That was easy.
    But for how long?
    And under what circumstances?
    Those questions were much harder.
    She was making this too difficult. It wasn’t like she had to answer these questions for a lifetime. She only had to answer for right now.
    “Will I see you tonight?” she asked.
    His