He thrust. Hard and deep.
On a cry, Holly arched up, and he caught her in his arms, not giving her a moment to settle before he took her with rough strokes. With each slap of his hips against hers, the table groaned and rocked as he fucked her. There was no polite term for the way he went about it, driving in and out of her as if he couldn’t go far enough.
She grabbed the ends of his hair and kissed him, desperate for more of his taste, for the feel of his tongue sliding over hers. With one hand, he cupped the back of her head, holding her tenderly. But the other hand gripped the strings of her corset at her back. The grip turned brutal, pulling the corset tight, cutting off her air.
She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Her world spun in a hot blur of color and feeling. His thick cock invading and retreating, the tender well of her sex, her breasts aching to break free of their confinement. He pounded harder, gripped her tight, watching her through heavily lidded eyes, as though he knew exactly what he was doing to her, how his hold would affect her.
She became a mindless creature, straining and scrambling to get closer to him, her source of pleasure and of torment. Blackness crept over her vision. And then with a jerk and the slice of his claw along her corset strings, she was free. Her breath drew in on a great gasp, and the orgasm swept her up with such force that she wailed, her body convulsing against his.
Thorne’s shout, the sharp buck of his hips into hers, was a distant thing as Holly came down from where he’d taken her.
Spent, he sagged against her, his hold fragile and his skin covered with a sheen of sweat. The weight of him was far too pleasing.
Holly lay limp and panting. Every inch of her thrummed with a sort of boneless, well-satisfied yet aching contentment. But her mind whirled. Intercourse with Thorne was nothing like what she’d experienced before. He’d taken her with coarse, unfettered need. Now she feared she’d give up everything, lose herself body and soul, just to have more. More of him.
A loss of control was unacceptable. The tighter she held onto her emotions, the safer she would be. But the scientist in her needed to understand. How had he done it? Why was the experience better with him? Better. It was transcendent.
“What…” She licked her dry lips. “What did you do to me?”
For a moment, he said nothing. Only the gentle touch of his fingers stroking the side of her neck gave any indication that he was awake. Then he spoke, his voice rough and cracking. “Just the question I was going to ask you, Miss Evernight.”
There was pleasure and then there was Pleasure. The latter was to experience the moment with every sense firing and working at top performance. Thoughts fled, joy and sensation roared to the forefront. Will had thought himself an expert in both. Taking Holly Evernight hard and fast on a table top had proven him a dilettante on true Pleasure. She’d decimated him, reducing him to a quivering pile of limbs and aching cock. Was it wrong of him, then, to want to linger over her? To seek a repeat performance?
He’d had the barest of tastes. And he wanted more.
Thus it was to his extreme disappointment when she all but shoved him off of her and pleaded the need for privacy. Had he retained an ounce of his wits, he might have questioned her. Instead, he watched her flee to her rooms with the determined strides of one trying desperately not to run, but wanting just as desperately to give in to the compulsion.
Flattering. Truly. More so when she went to bed, locking her door against him without so much as a good night.
He’d paced his room, wondering whether it would appear too needy should he charge into hers and stake his claim. Eventually, he’d given up the ghost and went to his own, cold bed.
How, he wondered, as he waited for her the next morning, would she receive him?
She solved the quandary by reappearing, all buttoned up in a high-necked gown of deep silver. It called to mind a suit of armor, especially given the way she stood at attention, her little chin up and her shoulders squared.
He couldn’t help himself; he smiled. Broadly. “Well, hello again.”
A soft, pink blush spread up from her collar. He wanted to nibble his way down her neck to the sweet tips of her breasts. He hadn’t even seen her breasts. Why hadn’t he completely ripped off her bodice and feasted on them when he’d had the chance? He took a step towards her, and she stiffened as though fearing his touch. Her reaction was so strong that he stopped short.
Before he could say a word, she turned and proceeded to walk away with brisk strides that had her skirts snapping. “I am going to work in the other laboratory today,” she said, as Will followed.
“All right.” His response came out more a question. Which was apropos, as he didn’t quite understand what work had to do with what had happened between them. Was she embarrassed? Shy? Worried how he’d act towards her now? She needn’t be. He would adore her if she gave him half the chance.
Her lovely face might have been carved marble. “I don’t want to be disturbed.”
Something ugly twisted deep in his gut. “By me, you mean.”
Her chin lifted a fraction. “As you are the only soul in the house who would think to interrupt me while I work, then yes, I do mean you.”
She wouldn’t look at him. Will halted. Surprisingly, so did she. When she turned to give him a curious look, he peered down, using his height to loom over her. Hell, he needed every advantage he had with this woman. “Have we a problem?”
“Problem?” she tossed out lightly. “Whatever do you mean?”
A laugh broke from him, although he was tempted to curse. “Do you honestly believe that this Little Miss Insouciant retort will work on me?” He waved a hand in disgust. “You’re acting overly formal.” And cold.
“Mr. Thorne, as you have been keen to point out on many an occasion, I am overly formal in comparison to you.”
A growl rumbled in his throat, and he ground his teeth to keep from shouting. “When a man has spent himself between your thighs, Miss Evernight, you may feel free to treat him with familiarity.”
A blush tinted her checks as her gaze flicked away. “Charming.”
A realization dawned on him, so brutally hard that he felt ill and nearly stumbled.
“You regret it.” Will’s fists clenched. He was a breath away from grabbing hold of her. “You regret me.”
She glared up at him, her blue eyes like midnight beneath her black brows. “Of course I regret it. You disgust me—”
“You did not appear disgusted last night!” He could not believe it. Not how much it chafed or how much he wanted to tup her again, just to hear her moan as she did before. Disgust, my arse.
Her fine lips pursed. Damn, but he loved it when she did that with her mouth. It made him want to bite her. “To clarify, it disgusts me that I want you. You are crude. You use every opportunity to rub my base needs and weakness in my face.” Her hand cut through the air when his mouth opened again. “I don’t want to desire you. Not with this arrangement hanging over us. And continued intercourse without love or, at the very least, affection, is a waste.”
“What bloody rot,” he snarled past the odd ache in his chest. He didn’t expect her to love him. It was a relief, really, that she hadn’t become calf-eyed with the emotion. But no affection? Did she dislike him so much? Bloody, irritating woman. “Tupping is tupping. It feels bloody good, tremendous, if done right.” And they had done it very right. “Fucking is life. The creation of it. Its greatest pleasure. Why shouldn’t we partake in it?”
She rolled her eyes and made a move as if to go. Rage, and something uncomfortably near panic, seared his insides, and he grabbed her. “Answer me.”
“Because,” she said through her teeth, “pleasure or not, when I see that smirk of yours, I feel ashamed.” Her eyes grew overly bright as she held his gaze. “I cannot stand the thought of you having a laugh at my expense.”
“Having a laugh at you?” His throat constricted. Was she mad?
“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling free o
f his nerveless fingers. “I thought I could silence my mind and give in to simple feeling. I cannot.”
She left him standing there, numb all over now, save for that aching place in his chest where the metal heart now lay.
Chapter Fifteen
Will had to leave the house. Or he’d be storming into Little Miss Regretful’s sanctuary and bodily showing her just what he thought of her theories. Smarmy, was he? Having a laugh at her? She was utterly without a clue when it came to men. Pride stayed his hand. He would not crawl on his belly for her, or anyone.
For now, he needed to air out his anger. The problem being that he feared that the moment he left, she’d be attacked. Shockingly, it was Felix who solved his problem. The man came across Will pacing a hole in the library rug.
His expression was one of sympathy, which irked too.
“How quickly can you travel by shadow?” Felix asked him after a moment of silence.
Will stopped short. “Why?”
The butler held out a rather large silver pocket watch. Having been subjected to the terrors of another one of Holly Evernight’s so-called watches, Will eyed the thing with caution.
Felix gave him a wry look. “This is a communicator. The model works only in one direction, so you cannot contact the house with it. However, should an emergency arise, I can sound an alarm, which you will receive through this.”
Will blinked, then a grin of appreciation crept over his mouth. “That woman is bloody brilliant.”
“Yes, she is.” Felix sobered. “Go on, sir. We’ll look out for her.”
Will took the device with gratitude. A strange notion of kinship with the young butler fell over him. “I’d never hurt her,” he found himself saying, for he knew without doubt that both Felix and Nan knew what had occurred.
Felix didn’t blink. “I know.” He hesitated, then added, “Upsetting the order of things is another matter.”
It did not sound as though the man disapproved of that, however. And then Will understood. Holly Evernight needed her carefully constructed world shaken up. Unfortunately, Will didn’t know if he had the heart to do so. Not when it meant the risk of his being broken.
He laughed without humor as he pocketed the watch. How had it come to this? That he was pining over a woman so unlike anything he’d ever wanted? Will did not stay around to think on it. He fled to the only place he knew he would be welcome. Jack’s house.
His friend greeted him with a mixture of surprise and wariness as he opened his own door, still refusing to employ a proper house staff. “You look like hell,” Jack said.
“Stating the obvious, mate,” Will answered without much heat.
“Come on then. We’ll suss it out in the library.”
Once in the library, Will sat in one of Talent’s ridiculously comfortable chairs and stretched his legs out towards the fire. While he did not have the ability to manipulate fire that many of his brethren possessed, he still craved its roaring heat. Hell was in his blood, he supposed.
Jack handed him a crystal glass filled with crimson liquid. “Madeira,” he said, taking the seat next to Will. “One hundred and fifty years old.”
Will straightened. “How in the hell did you get your hands on it?”
Jack took a sip of the fortified wine. “Lord Archer. He has an obscenely decadent stock of wines and spirits. This was a birthday gift.” A look of bemusement crossed Jack’s hard features, and Will knew he was still unaccustomed to such acts of kindness.
“How do you know the fellow?” Will had heard of Archer. At one point in time, all of London had feared him. Well, all the humans had feared him. As for Will and his brethren, they’d admired the way an obviously supernatural creature had flaunted himself in high society. Of course now, Archer appeared as human as the next bloke, which was rather a shame.
“He’s Ian’s best mate and brother-in-law. So we’re family in a roundabout way.”
Ian, known to the underworld as The Ranulf, king of the lycans, was Jack’s self-appointed father and protector. Will knew Jack had an extended family as a result, but he hadn’t paid attention to the particulars. Not when it reminded Will that he essentially had no close family.
“Well, cheers to you, mate,” he said, and took a sip. Merciful Devil. Rich, almost buttery sweetness slid along his tongue. “Bloody hell, that’s good.”
“Thought you might appreciate it.” Jack drank as well.
“Where is your woman?” Will felt compelled to ask; the devil help him if he had to face Mary while trying to sort out his feelings for her good friend.
“Meeting with Lucien Stone.” Jack’s voice, though tight, did not hold the old taint of jealousy it once did when he spoke of Mary’s mentor and fellow GIM.
“So then, you’re all right with that?”
Jack shrugged. “Still don’t care for the prancing peacock, but I can manage a polite word when need be.” Which meant that Jack was still a prat to old Lucien. The fact that the GIM was a known seducer and far more attractive than a man ought to be might have something to do with it.
Jack’s expression sobered. “It’s about GIM business, at any rate. Don’t know the particulars, but apparently Adam has abandoned the GIM.”
Will frowned into his drink. Adam created all GIM. In a way, Will’s predicament was directly related to Adam. Holly had created a replica of Adam’s clockwork hearts, and it now resided in Will’s chest. Absently he stroked the scar, the raised, thick line obvious even with his waistcoat and jacket buttoned up. “Sounds like a boon to me.”
While Adam might be the creator of the GIM, his gift came at a price. Servitude. Each contract varied, but all GIM served him for a time.
Jack made a half shrug before taking another drink of his Madeira. “On the surface, perhaps it is. But when a powerful primus, who has controlled an entire species, suddenly releases his holdings? It’s best to sort out why.”
“Perhaps he’s gone the way of the ancients and lost his marbles.”
Jack gave him a look. “I believe we both know what sort of shite that scenario can kick up.”
Will cleared his throat and forced himself not to rub his scar again. Yes, he knew too well.
Clearly not wanting to continue down that dark path, Jack sat back comfortably in his chair. “So then, what has you in a mood?”
Will wasn’t about to deny his foul mood. Jack knew him too well. What’s more, Will never felt the need to hide his feelings. It was the sanguis in him. To deny emotions was a dangerous thing.
Will finished off his glass. Setting down the crystal with a small clink, he ran a finger over the rim before answering. “Holly.”
The corner of Jack’s mouth curled. “Holly, is it?”
Will sighed and handed Jack his glass. “I’m going to need a top off.”
Jack’s eyes gleamed as he poured more Madeira. “Got you in a lather, has she?”
“You’re enjoying this far too much, you arse.” Will took a gulp. His hand was less steady now. How much time did he have? An hour? Less? Christ. He did not want to beg for her touch. Never again would he beg.
“It could be worse,” Jack deadpanned. “I could hunt her down and flirt with her just to see you sweat.”
Very well, he deserved that, as he’d done the very thing to Jack with Mary Chase. “Oh, please do. I’m certain your wife would find it most amusing too.”
“Which is the only reason you’re safe.” Jack suddenly grinned. “Though, if I gave her my reasons, she just might wish me well.”
“She’s that certain of your affections?”
“Oh yes.”
“You make me ill, you know that?”
Jack wagged his thick brows. “Jealous?”
“Yes.”
His oldest friend’s mouth fell open. Ordinarily Will would have relished the fact that he shocked Jack; it was hard to do. But he was too weary to fully appreciate it now.
“I want what you have. I want it with Holly.” As soon as the words were out, the t
ruth of his predicament crystallized in his mind. He wanted her. And she’d told him to take a piss. Gads, but he was in the thick now.
Will sat back with a sigh. “But the blasted woman… Hell and damnation, she’s a bloody cold fish half of the time.” Why couldn’t he desire some nice, lusty sanguis female? Never mind that Holly Evernight, in the throes of passion, burned hotter than any bed partner he’d ever had. “And I’m quite certain she’d have nothing to do with me were it not for the initial threat of me killing her.”
Jack choked on his Madeira. “Are you still threatening to kill her?”
“Do not be daft.” Will waved a heavy hand. “I’m the one bloody keeping her safe, am I not?”
Dark green eyes bore into him. “You used to be better than this. You used to charm women with a look.”
Will pressed his fingers over his aching eyes. “I’m out of practice. Besides, it never meant anything before. I cannot function properly around this damn woman.”
“Sounds about right,” Jack said with a wry salute.
On a growl, Will pounded the armrest with his fist. “Bloody hell, you’re supposed to give me advice. Why do you think I’m here?”
Jack snorted. “Me? Advice? Do you not remember the depths to which I bolloxed things up with Mary? You ought to be running from my advice.” He tilted his head and peered at Will. “You’re hiding out, aren’t you?”
Will glanced away and picked at a loose thread on his jacket sleeve. “Hardly.”
“You are.” Jack sat up straighter, that bloody irritating smile creeping back over his lips. “I bet my best hat that you stormed out in one of your fits of pique.”
“I’ll have you know, I strolled out, and quite peaceably too. Now then, I’ll take the black, flat-topped bowler with the silver band that you fancy so much, thank you.”
Jack did not appear convinced, which was bloody insulting.
“I’ll wait here,” Will said amicably.
When Jack did nothing more than stare a hole through his skull, Will sighed and leaned forward to rest his arms upon his bent knees. “I didn’t need to storm out. The blasted woman has locked herself in her laboratory and doesn’t want to see me.”
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