right?” He couldn’t talk anymore, the words jumbling up without meaning. He took her mouth in a wild kiss and scraped her hard against him.
So many occasions, every day, anyplace they happened to be. His mind spun with possibilities. He liked games, and this one he’d never tire of. It took all his strength to press her away. If he didn’t end this now, he truly would have her on the floor, or maybe straddling him on the convenient straight-backed chair. Both ways. He’d take her all night and not tire. He kissed her forehead, not hearing whatever it was she was saying. He wished he had Mac’s charm, so he could .find the right words to thank her, to propose another tryst, to continue the play. Instead Ian cupped her face in-his hands and gave her another kiss on the mouth. “I said, will you send another message through the very useful Curry?” she asked.
“Yes.” How easy it was to be with her, when she answered questions so he didn’t have to.
“That will do.” He retrieved his coat, thrusting his collar and tie into the pocket, and turned for one last look.
Beth stood upright in the middle of the room, where he’d found her when he’d first stormed in. Now her dress gaped to her throat to expose the dull red mark he’d left on her skin. Her eyelids were heavy, her lips swollen with his kisses. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life.
“Good night,” she whispered.
He made himself turn away and thrust open the doors, ignoring the footman and Katie, who suddenly scuttled away down the hall. He snatched hat, gloves, and scarf from hooks in the foyer and banged out of the house before he could give in to temptation and stay. He would soon arrange it so he never had to leave. He’d marry her for a very basic reason: to have her with him every night, every day, every afternoon, and every time in between. He walked down the boulevard, something in him awakening and breaking free.
The night had turned foggy, which only enhanced Ian’s ability to hear the footsteps that turned and followed him as he moved off down the avenue.
Sleep was impossible. Beth paced her bedchamber far into the night, wrapped in a dressing gown. She found herself unable to return to her journal or to go to bed. The events were too fresh to write about, and anytime she tried, her trembling hand spilled ink all over her journal pages. She kept her dressing gown closed to her throat, though every so often, she’d stop in front of the mirror and ease it open. The red mark Ian had left stood out stark against her skin, almost a bruise, though not quite. Some of the game girls who’d come to the workhouse had had such marks, had laughed at Beth when she asked about them in concern. Beth pressed her hand against the love bite. She’d had no idea why anyone would want to do such a thing. Now she remembered the warm tingle in her veins when his breath touched her throat, the throbbing of her opening when his teeth closed on her neck. His hair had touched her chin, warm and soft and smelling of soap. She heard Isabella come home and hoped her friend wouldn’t race in for a late-night chat. Beth had come to like Isabella, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide her agitation, her excitement. Isabella would crack Beth open like an egg.
Isabella was uncharacteristically quiet as she came down the hall and soon closed her door. Through the wall, Beth heard the low voice of her maid, readying Isabella for bed. Then the maid departed and all was silence. Beth still couldn’t settle down. Her body was keyed up, angry at her for not completing what she’d started with Ian. She had feared he’d laugh at her suggestion that they have a liaison—she’d shared a man’s bed and knew of orgasm, but Ian Mackenzie was decadence itself. A completely different thing.
He’d given her his slow half smile, had met her gaze for the briefest instant, and said yes. He’d not been amused, bored, indifferent, embarrassed.
So many occasions, every day, anyplace they happened to be. His mind spun with possibilities. He liked games, and this one he’d never tire of. It took all his strength to press her away. If he didn’t end this now, he truly would have her on the floor, or maybe straddling him on the convenient straight-backed chair. Both ways. He’d take her all night and not tire. He kissed her forehead, not hearing whatever it was she was saying. He wished he had Mac’s charm, so he could .find the right words to thank her, to propose another tryst, to continue the play. Instead Ian cupped her face in-his hands and gave her another kiss on the mouth. “I said, will you send another message through the very useful Curry?” she asked.
“Yes.” How easy it was to be with her, when she answered questions so he didn’t have to.
“That will do.” He retrieved his coat, thrusting his collar and tie into the pocket, and turned for one last look.
Beth stood upright in the middle of the room, where he’d found her when he’d first stormed in. Now her dress gaped to her throat to expose the dull red mark he’d left on her skin. Her eyelids were heavy, her lips swollen with his kisses. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life.
“Good night,” she whispered.
He made himself turn away and thrust open the doors, ignoring the footman and Katie, who suddenly scuttled away down the hall. He snatched hat, gloves, and scarf from hooks in the foyer and banged out of the house before he could give in to temptation and stay. He would soon arrange it so he never had to leave. He’d marry her for a very basic reason: to have her with him every night, every day, every afternoon, and every time in between. He walked down the boulevard, something in him awakening and breaking free.
The night had turned foggy, which only enhanced Ian’s ability to hear the footsteps that turned and followed him as he moved off down the avenue.
Sleep was impossible. Beth paced her bedchamber far into the night, wrapped in a dressing gown. She found herself unable to return to her journal or to go to bed. The events were too fresh to write about, and anytime she tried, her trembling hand spilled ink all over her journal pages. She kept her dressing gown closed to her throat, though every so often, she’d stop in front of the mirror and ease it open. The red mark Ian had left stood out stark against her skin, almost a bruise, though not quite. Some of the game girls who’d come to the workhouse had had such marks, had laughed at Beth when she asked about them in concern. Beth pressed her hand against the love bite. She’d had no idea why anyone would want to do such a thing. Now she remembered the warm tingle in her veins when his breath touched her throat, the throbbing of her opening when his teeth closed on her neck. His hair had touched her chin, warm and soft and smelling of soap. She heard Isabella come home and hoped her friend wouldn’t race in for a late-night chat. Beth had come to like Isabella, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to hide her agitation, her excitement. Isabella would crack Beth open like an egg.
Isabella was uncharacteristically quiet as she came down the hall and soon closed her door. Through the wall, Beth heard the low voice of her maid, readying Isabella for bed. Then the maid departed and all was silence. Beth still couldn’t settle down. Her body was keyed up, angry at her for not completing what she’d started with Ian. She had feared he’d laugh at her suggestion that they have a liaison—she’d shared a man’s bed and knew of orgasm, but Ian Mackenzie was decadence itself. A completely different thing.
He’d given her his slow half smile, had met her gaze for the briefest instant, and said yes. He’d not been amused, bored, indifferent, embarrassed.
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