Oh, the third glass might not have been wise. She’d forgotten how rich fine claret could be. Her eyes grew so heavy…
* * * *
Grey stared down at Beth’s sleeping form. He’d had a busy morning. First receiving the news from the insurance man that The Philadelphia Pride was damaged beyond repair, then releasing his current mistress, Maria, from their arrangement.
“You are in love.”
Delivered in her calm tones, the accusation had burnt his ears. He hadn’t dignified it with a response. She, of all people, knew he wasn’t capable of that depth of feeling.
He traced the lines of Beth’s oval face. He did want her, though—too much, in fact. Could he gentle her, so she fitted into his life? The clock chimed a quarter past two and her lashes fluttered. His patience in waiting for her to awaken vapourised. He pulled back the covers.
“Beth.”
Warm and naked, she curled against his body as he drew her close.
“I am sorry I was late. I had unavoidable business.”
Her lids fluttered and she murmured something. He kissed her and she opened to him. He slid his tongue inside, tasting her rich, fruity breath.
He pulled away, chuckling. “You’ve been into the wine.”
“A glass or two…” She hiccoughed softly. “Possibly three.”
At her slurred voice, his good humour vanished. “You sound foxed.”
“I shouldn’t have been drinking your wine. I am sorry.”
“I don’t mind if you drink my wine. I shall furnish you with your own if you wish, but I’d prefer you to stay sober when you are expecting me.” He stroked her hair, the keen edge of frustration beginning to cut into him. “This is the sort of thing we need to talk about. My requirements of you, your expectations of me.”
“Your requirements, my expectations—it sounds very serious.”
“Well, in a way it is. It can keep us from burning each other.”
“Nothing can keep us from burning each other.” She laughed and touched his erection through his pantaloons.
Fire raced through him. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.
“Why aren’t you undressed?” she asked, her tone all Madam Practicality when she was everything but. “Come on.” With her free hand, she snapped her fingers. Or rather, she tried to. “Time to get out of those clothes.”
She tugged and pulled at his buttons. An adorable little line formed between her eyes.
He didn’t know if he should kiss her or wring her neck. “You’re impossible, aren’t you?”
“What do you mean”—she licked her lips—“impossible?”
“I mean you are impossible to deal with.”
Her fingers kept slipping on his buttons but she had a few of them loose. The way his cock kept surging with high hopes at each brush of her hand added to the comedy of the moment. Unfortunately, he didn’t feel like laughing. “Tell me, do you strive for this effect or is it pure chaos on your part?”
Ashen-faced, she closed her eyes and her throat worked rapidly.
A disquieting thought occurred to him. “Beth, you don’t become ill when you drink, do you?”
“Not u—usually.”
“Thank heavens for that.” He took her hand and put it aside. “You’d better go back to sleep for a while. When you’re feeling a little better I’ll call for some coffee.”
“Aren’t you gonna fuck me, Grey?” Her tone, light and musical with amusement, clashed with his present mood.
“I don’t think so.”
“But you don’t know yet?”
His breathing quickened and his blood ran several degrees hotter. And not with lust. He couldn’t remember becoming so angry so fast in…well, maybe ever. His jaw clenched with the effort to contain his ire. “All right—I know I am not going to fuck you, not today.”
Her eyes popped open. “But why?”
“Because it’s not quite the thing when a lady is intoxicated.”
“But I am not a lady. I am a…what is the term you gentlemen use for it?” She lifted one shoulder. “Oh yes, a soiled dove. A gentleman may take whatever liberties he chooses with an intoxicated dove.”
“Don’t talk like that.” His jaw clenched tighter, making it hard to speak.
Her other hand had snaked its way back to his fall. His cock twitched. A strange paralysis claimed him as he watched her free several more buttons. He wanted nothing more than to push her hands aside, undo those buttons himself, roll over her and sink into her soft, wet folds.
Damn, had he ever wanted a woman as much as he wanted her?
He doubted it.
He took her wrists and held her at bay. “Don’t push things, Beth. I am prepared to overlook your behaviour today because you don’t know me well yet. But I don’t like drunkenness.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Such high standards for your harlots, eh? I wouldn’t have guessed.”
Harlot? The word flashed like kindling on the fire of his anger. Since when had he even so much as suggested he viewed her as a lowly harlot? He was infuriated with her putting words into his mouth. “Beth, stop it.”
“Well, I mean I doubt you have many requirements for your friends. Those men in the dining hall—their eyes were so cold, soulless, they looked at me like they wanted to snatch the life’s blood from my veins. As if I count for less than they do. Because my gown was a bit worn.”
“Are you quite done?”
“No, I want to understand how you can associate with such men.”
That she was spot-on in her assessment of Dorr and Metcalf didn’t matter. That he’d noticed their avid interest in her and been incensed by it didn’t matter. That it pricked him to know she’d been hurt by their disrespect didn’t matter. They were important business contacts and he answered to no one.
“That’s requirement number two. My business life is none of your concern.”
“Right.” She bolted upright. “Listen, Mr High-and-Mighty-Merchant.” She punched her finger into the crisp linen covering his chest. “I don’t allow my lovers to dictate to me.”
She left the bed and wavered on her feet, a frown marring her angelic features.
“Where the devil are you going?”
“As far away from you as I can get.”
Chapter Four
Beth turned, tripped and struggled for balance. Grey shot off the bed, reaching her as she lost the battle. She fell into his arms, her sky blue eyes sparking up at him.
“Take your hands from my person,” she said with dignity worthy of a senator’s wife.
He let her go and she wobbled away apace. Then she halted, closing her eyes as the colour drained from her face and a small, miserable-sounding moan escaped her.
“You’d better get back to bed,” he said.
She staggered over and sprawled across the bed face-down, her white, rounded ass raised like a banner of surrender. The stunning invitation sent the temperature of his blood soaring, his pulse pounding in his ears. His cock surged erect again.
You can’t—you know you can’t.
Suppressing a groan, he went to her, took her shoulders and turned her. She lay limp as a poppet in his arms, murmuring an approximation of his name. At least, he chose to believe it was his name.
Unable to resist, he bent and found her lips. She returned his kiss languorously, all wine-scented and as ripe with promise as a sun-soaked, early spring afternoon.
Her movements grew ever more indolent. He broke the kiss and his hand found its way between her legs, his fingers sliding between the plump lips of her quim and slipping inside. She was wet, very wet and warm—oh, so warm. He withdrew his hand. God, it would be so easy to… No, he had to play the gentleman—when he felt like anything but a gentleman.
“This is the exact sort of thing I do not want to have to deal with.”
A soft snore answered him. The effect was like someone had peeled back his skull and applied a flame to the base of his brain. He’d never been so angry and so sex
ually frustrated at the same time.
He detested this sort of situation. This was the very reason he kept this part of his life well ordered. But this was entirely his doing. He’d been tempted by a hoyden and succumbed. He’d invited this into his life.
He took a deep, deep, breath, then pulled the sheet over her. Briefly, he considered getting half-seas-over himself. But no, that’d be a manifest for disaster. And she might yet become ill and need his assistance. He climbed into bed and stretched out beside her.
He brushed the hair off her face, revealing fine features that looked so innocent and young in sleep. Tenderness crashed over him, blending with the lust, the anger, the frustration, into a swirling hurricane.
And, maddeningly, it made him want her all the more. What was he to do with his wild girl?
* * * *
Dry-mouthed, Grey startled awake and glanced over at Beth where she stood by the bed. Several hours must have passed. Rays of late-day sun crept through the crack of the curtains, sparkling in tones of pink and orange on her long, flowing hair. A ribbon of gold light highlighted the outline of her gently curved ass.
By God, she was gorgeous.
Tenderness choked him and he cleared his throat.
She whirled to face him, her eyes wide and bluer-than-blue.
“Beth, are you all right?”
“Ha! Why don’t you just require me to be all right?” Her contemptuous tone sent all his tender feelings to the dustbin.
Turning away, she tottered around and caught herself on a chair. After a moment’s pause, she continued towards the sideboard.
Damn it all, she’s determined to fall flat on her face.
He leapt after her and caught her about the waist from behind. Contact with her bare, desirable body wiped the lingering sleep from his brain. Through his pantaloons, his erection surged against the soft cushion of her ass. He couldn’t repress a groan and his hand splayed over her flat belly of its own will.
“Let me go, you damned coxcomb,” she said breathlessly, jerking in his grasp.
The friction of her naked body against his sent a wave of sexual need through him, threatening to overwhelm his control. He gritted his teeth against it and sweat broke out on his brow. He forced himself to be reasonable. “Settle down, before you hurt yourself. Let’s get you back to bed before you fall on your face. When you’re sober, we can compare notes and decide who has more cause for grievance.”
“Oh, very amusing. Well, for your information I am recovered and, furthermore, I am leaving.” She twisted herself around, glaring. “And I am never coming back.”
She couldn’t mean it. She had to come back.
Nevertheless, her eyes were hard.
She had the power to deny him. He, who needed no one. He gaped at her, stupefied. She had somehow inserted herself under his skin—and now had him practically on his knees at her feet.
How had that happened?
She continued staring at him, eyes sober and startlingly blue. “Did you hear? I am leaving,” she said.
Resolution pounded through his blood. Of its own accord, his grip tightened on her.
“I don’t think so.” God, was that harsh voice really his? “At least not yet.”
* * * *
“You can’t keep me here.” Beth threw all her defiance into the statement.
Brave words, to be sure. However, she’d willingly placed herself here, vulnerable to him. He could do anything he damn well pleased and she’d have little recourse against him without opening herself to ruin.
Her mouth went dry. What did she know of him? What he was capable of? She stood, naked and half twisted around as he held her from behind, his damned harder-than-iron cock pressing into her bottom. Of course, this probably excited the devil out of the arrogant tyrant. Well, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. Despite her pounding heart, she kept her chin high and held his gaze. “You can’t.”
“No?” His silver eyes warmed, making her breath catch. He meant to kiss her. From the way her heart began beating triple time, dear God, she feared she might let him.
Thinks he can order me about like I am one of his lackeys.
He would not win.
She wouldn’t let him.
The fine wool of his pantaloons tickled her bare bottom and she fidgeted in his arms. He groaned, then put his lips to her temple, murmuring and lightly squeezing her breast. Sparks of delight shot through her. A moan drifted up from her belly. She swallowed it ruthlessly, only to have the suppressed energy quiver through her, sharpening the pleasure.
I won’t feel, I won’t.
He took both her breasts, fondling them almost roughly now with his large hands. Her instincts had lied. He didn’t intend to kiss her. He intended merely to amuse himself by mauling her teats, like she was some doxy come to his room. Surely she was not…disappointed? No, she was simply tired. From being up half the night sewing shoes. From skipping breakfast and drinking far, far too much. From fighting him.
His thumbs brushed her nipples. Of course, they would have to tighten under his touch, so stiff and obedient, and betray her rising excitement. He rolled each between a thumb and forefinger, sending dual stabs of fierce pleasure straight to her loins. She bit her lip so hard, she tasted metal. His breath rasped in her ear and she knew he was totally distracted by his lust.
After his high-handed treatment, she owed him a come-uppance. She pulled her arm back, preparing to jab him in the ribs, only to find herself incapacitated in his grip.
“You really are a virago, aren’t you?” Amusement warmed his voice.
Angry heat rushed over her face. He span her about. Facing him, she fought to pull away but he grasped her wrists.
“Let. Me. Go!” she cried, struggling wildly against him, but he held her firm.
He laughed, the rich, deep sound resonating in her stomach. “So you can go find a weapon? I don’t think so.”
“Let me go, you ass-eared jackanapes!”
“You don’t really want that,” he said, with galling assurance.
“Why else should I ask it?”
“You could easily have slipped away a moment ago and instead you chose to challenge me.” He released her hands.
She let her arms drop to her sides, too vexed by his words to let the matter go. “What are you suggesting?”
“You enjoy provoking me,” he said. “But you should be careful what you ask for.”
She felt her eyes widen. She certainly couldn’t deny the surge of what definitely felt like victory to see him so affected. Good Lord, he was correct.
He started walking forwards.
“What are you doing now?” she asked, moving backwards by necessity.
“Easy now.” He slowed and motioned behind her.
She put a hand back, touched the wall. “I asked what you think you are doing.”
“I am done talking.”
“What the devil does that mean?”
“This,” he said thickly, lowering his head.
Her throat dried. He was correct. She had provoked him. His cool, controlled reception in bed had driven her insane. It was so unfair that she should burn with such uncontrollable fever while he could turn his longing on and off at will. She had wanted to provoke his emotions.
Well, she’d got her wish and then some. From the tenor of his voice and the tightness of his hands upon her, she knew his kiss would be savage. Swallowing forcefully, she closed her eyes and braced herself. Excitement pooled in her belly, dark and hot.
He touched her lips with his—warm, tender, coaxing her. A moan forced itself up but she held her breath, stifling it. His tongue flirted over her lips, a seductive promise that filled her with hunger. She refused him entry, digging her nails into her palms to keep herself from reaching up and clasping his broad shoulders.
He moved lower, kissing her throat, pressing her closer, crushing her breasts to his chest. Abraded by the starched crispness of his linen shirt, her nipples hardened t
o painful little points. She had to breathe. There was simply no choice. She released her breath in a low, mewling moan. To her horror, she couldn’t stop herself from rubbing her breasts against him, seeking more of the sensation that was driving her insane.
He lowered his head, blazing a trail of fire with his lips over her collarbone and down to capture a pebbled nipple. His tongue circled the stiff peak—hot, sweet moisture that melted every bone in her body. Her head fell back against the wall. Another mewling, pleading sound escaped her and her hips thrust forward, her cunt pressing against his well-muscled leg of its own volition.
He suckled her and she clutched his head, moaning uncontrollably. The weight of his erection pressed against her belly, making her achingly aware of how empty her cunt was. Her channel clenched and her honey flowed, drenching her, preparing her for him. For his hardness, his bigness.
He lifted his head and cold air hit her nipple with painful effect. A plea for his return rose to her lips, but she bit it back. Balling her fists, she resisted reaching out for him.
The conquest should have been hers. She should be on her knees at this moment, with his cock nestled in the back of her throat, driving him mad with pleasure. Imprinting herself indelibly on his memory for all time. Instead, she was the one quivering with overwhelming need.
She hated him for this. Indisputably, she did.
“Beth, you’ve a choice to make. You can go and get dressed and I’ll see you sent home”—he set his hand at the base of her throat—“or you can stay where you are and be thoroughly fucked against this wall.”
At the power he displayed, heat pulsed through her body with such stunning force that nothing else mattered. There would be ample time, later, to hate him.
“Look at me, Beth.”
She opened her eyes. For God’s sake, must he talk her to death? Why didn’t he just do it?
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