How to Fall for the Wrong Man (Ladies of Passion)

by Williams, Harmony

  “Not on your life,” he said with an answering grin. It was weak, only making it halfway across his face before dimming again. “I remember what happened the last time I gave you spirits.”

  “I was thirteen,” I protested. “I’ve had plenty since then, with no ill effects.”

  “Be that as it may, it is my duty to keep you from further harm. At least while you are in this house.”

  I shook my head. The movement made the staircase sway. I leaned more heavily on Isaac’s arm. “What do you care? You don’t even like me.”

  For a moment, he said nothing, helping me up the stairs. Then he murmured, “On that, you are mistaken.”

  We reached the top of the stairs and I arched my eyebrows at him. The movement scrunched my forehead, pulling at the cut near my scalp. “You go out of your way to deny me entrance.”

  “That was when you were hunting our lord, bent on exposing nefarious ways he does not possess. But I see the way you look at each other.”

  “With anger?”

  He laughed. “Call it anger if you will. The two of you haven’t changed since childhood.”

  I shook my head. “You remember our childhood a good deal differently than I do. Edwin was never so argumentative.”

  “Perhaps because you made up for it with all of your argumentativeness.”

  We reached the closed door of Edwin’s room. Light seeped from beneath the crack in the bottom of the door. Isaac rapped twice, then opened the door and announced that Edwin had a visitor.

  Edwin scrambled half out of bed, an expression of irritation on his face, as I slipped into the room. Isaac closed the door behind us. I prayed he wouldn’t lock it and trap us in a room together—again. No click punctured the silence.

  When I swung my gaze back to Edwin, he’d risen fully from the bed and wrapped the sheet around his waist. Did he ever wear sleep clothes? Apparently not. His muscular chest, dusted with hair, was still very much on display. He held a book in his hand, which he flung onto the bed.

  “Mary. What’s happened to you?”

  I touched the cut on my forehead again. This time, the hard crust of a beginning scab met my fingertips instead of tender tissue. My friend had washed it and pronounced it no more than a scrape despite the lump. Time would heal it. In this cozy room, with a dim glow seeping from the candle by the bed, my head didn’t throb with quite so much vigor.

  “I received a letter from a friend in distress. I went out to help her,” I admitted.

  His face morphed into a mask of disapproval. His eyebrows knit together, low over his eyes, and his mouth turned down in an unforgiving scowl.

  “You know better.”

  I recoiled. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You heard me.”

  He crossed to me, holding my head between both his hands as he examined the cut himself. What did he know of the physician’s arts? Nothing, to my knowledge. I batted his hands away.

  When they dropped away, a chill crossed over my skin at their absence. His hands were warm compared to the night air drifting in from the open window.

  “You promised me you wouldn’t do anything rash without me.”

  I made a mistake. I’m sorry. I bit my tongue.

  To keep from reaching for him like I so desperately wanted, I fisted my hands at my sides instead. “Who are you to demand I do anything?”

  “I’m the man who will bloody well be your husband if we continue on like this.”

  I didn’t flinch as he raised his voice. He stood only a foot away from me. Any closer and the hair on his chest would tickle my nose. He smelled spicy, like cinnamon. He dropped his hands to my shoulders and steered me toward the bed.

  “Please, sit. I’ll fetch a physician.”

  “I don’t need one.” I tried to shove him away, but he wrapped his arm around my waist, crushing me to his body and preventing me from fighting him. His warmth surrounded me. I relaxed against him, letting him hold me up if only for a moment. After a deep breath, I raised my gaze to his. His eyes were dark, unreadable.

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Bloody hell, Mary. Can’t you see I’m worried for you? You might have died tonight!”

  “And what makes you say that?”

  “Those aren’t the wounds of a man who pulled his punches.”

  I laughed, which only pulled at my cheek and made me wince. “This is from a wall.” I lifted my arms to show my forearms. “These are from a dog.”

  He clucked his tongue but didn’t loosen his hold. “Can you try not to throw yourself in these dangerous situations without thought?”

  I tried to pull away. His muscles tensed, but he didn’t budge.

  “I’ll do whatever I please.”

  “Oh?” His eyes darkened as he stared down at me, no longer engrossed by my injuries. “Then maybe I’ll do what I please, too.”

  “What—”

  I barely formed the word before he crushed his mouth to mine. He held my head steady with his arm laid up my spine to the nape of my neck. With the other, he grasped and squeezed my bottom, lifting me into him. He invaded my mouth with his tongue, laying claim to every last part of me.

  When he broke away, I couldn’t breathe. He traced my bottom lip with his thumb. The rasp of his rough pad against my tender skin made me shiver.

  “I care for you,” he said, his voice near to breaking.

  At that moment, it was exactly what I needed to hear.

  I stepped on tiptoe and wrapped my arms around his neck, dragging him down for another kiss. The fire he induced flew across every last one of my nerve endings, sparking a greater desire. My head spun, but this time with passion instead of pain. The ache in my head and face lessened. I kissed him with every ounce of passion I had in me. He returned it threefold.

  When he broke away to begin nibbling over my neck to my collarbone, I moaned. I grappled for the sheet he had wrapped around his middle, tugging on the end. Just as it started to unravel, he broke away to catch both my hands in his.

  “Mary…” My name was a word of warning.

  I smiled. “What? I’m no virgin.” I stood on tiptoe to capture his mouth again. He didn’t lean down enough at first, and I mostly got his chin.

  He drew me nearer. “You’re injured. We should take care. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  I dropped back onto my heels, meeting his gaze. Desire was written across his face. Yearning mixed with something urgent. I’d never had a man look at me that way before. I wasn’t even sure I’d had a woman look at me quite in that way.

  I tightened my grasp around his hand. “It looks worse than it feels. For once in our lives, let’s not worry about what we should do.”

  His grip had slackened enough around mine, enough for one strong yank to break his hold. I hooked my fingers in the sheet and pulled. The fabric pooled on the floor, displaying him fully.

  I’d never had a chance to examine him the last time he had been unclothed. My breath caught as I surveyed his male member, swollen with anticipation. It was thick and long, the purple cords of his veins culminating in the darkened tip. I wrapped one hand around it, pulling back the skin as I slid it down, learning its length and firmness. Edwin threw his head back. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he moaned my name.

  I grinned. Who knew I could have such power over him? I removed my hand and stepped back.

  He stared at me hesitantly, waiting for my next move. I pointed to the bed. “Lie down.”

  “Mary…” He reached for me.

  I skipped away, out of arm’s reach. I removed my crooked spectacles and snatched up the book on the bed, laying both down on the bedside table next to the candle. I pointed to the mattress. “Lie down. If we’re to do this, I will be in control.”

  He stretched himself out along the bed. His long, strong arms and legs took up the entire length of the bed and he sprawled across it and beckoned me near. The shadows played across the hollows in his skin. Around his ankles, the dip in the backs of his knee
s, the small indentation by his hip. As I stepped closer, I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. I leaned down, tasting that particular hollow as I climbed onto the bed. Edwin gasped. He fisted his hands in the sheets by his sides. He wanted to touch me.

  I grinned. In due time, maybe I’d let him. After I was done touching him.

  I leaned over him, running the length of my body over his as I moved to straddle his abdomen. The corded muscles of his forearms grew tight. His wary expression as he surveyed me, as if not sure what I would do next, was slightly blurred.

  I leaned down and kissed the expression away. He moaned softly into my mouth, releasing his hands from the bed to splay them across my back. One hand worked at the cord in my braid, tugging on it. Slowly and gently, he unwove the strands of my hair until they fell free.

  He leaned back into the pillow, trying to pull away. I let him, separating our mouths enough to look him in the eye again.

  “Am I hurting you?” he whispered.

  I laughed. “I’m not made of glass.”

  “No, but you are injured.” Gingerly, he ran his fingers over my swollen cheek.

  I’d forgotten about it. His touch resurfaced some of the ache, but I didn’t let him pull away. I laid my hand over his, forcing him to cup my cheek. “I’m fine.” I pressed a kiss into his palm.

  When I grazed the base of his thumb with my teeth, he forgot all about being gentle with me. He leaned up and captured my lips, conquering them. I surrendered to the kiss, to the passion his hands invoked as he ran them over my back. I couldn’t get close enough to him. Maybe because I wore too many clothes.

  The same thought must have crossed his mind, because pushed the jacket from my shoulders. Grabbing a handful of my shirt, he tugged it from my breeches. Once the material was free, he urged it up over my head. It fluttered to the ground beside the bed.

  He reconnected our lips as he tackled the bandage I’d used to bind my chest flat. As he worked the knot free, I explored his torso, learning every dip and curve of his muscular shoulders and chest. The hair dusting his chest tickled my palms. I loved it. His lean abdomen muscles contracted as he partially sat up to encourage the bandage to leave my chest completely.

  It was a snarl of white bandage against my almost-as-pale skin. I laughed as I helped him to disentangle me. When the bandage fell to the bed beside us, ignored, I met his gaze. My smile slipped at the seriousness of his expression.

  “You’re beautiful,” he murmured. He reached up to cup my breast, the skin of his sun-tanned hand dark against my flesh. I’d been told more than once before that my figure was not the most womanly, but judging by his rapt attention and the stiff member brushing against my behind, Edwin found me very desirable indeed.

  Twin spots of color bloomed in his cheeks, and crept down his neck, but he didn’t look away. He used his thumb to trace one areola.

  I leaned into his touch, throwing my head back. The rough pad of his thumb induced a shudder. I couldn’t hold back my reaction. It shot all the way to my channel, which tightened and throbbed, begging for his touch. Begging for release. He had me ensorcelled, all with a single touch.

  My hair cascaded down to tickle the small of my back. He twined his free hand in it, anchoring it onto my waist as he continued his slow, incessant ministrations. With every touch, I couldn’t help but rock against him. I ached to be appeased. I wanted him, Edwin Sutton, to be closer to me than any other person had ever been before, even my lovers.

  He urged me up his torso, lifting his head to draw my other nipple into his mouth. I groaned at the rush of sensation. My channel throbbed, begging for attention. I couldn’t wait a second longer.

  I disentangled myself from his touch and drew away. I left the bed, scrambling to one side. When I did, he lifted his head, confusion written across his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but I laid my hand across it instead.

  “I’ll only be a second.”

  I withdrew my hand and covered his mouth with mine instead. He reached up, one hand cupping my neck and the other hand palming my breast as I worked the buttons on my breeches. I shoved them down, drawers too, and kicked every last article of clothing off my body, boots included. When I climbed onto his prone form once more, the heat of his abdomen seared my very core.

  He groaned. “God, Mary. You’re wet. You want me.”

  I smiled. “I do.” And, for tonight at least, I was done fighting my desire for him. This felt too damn good.

  When I leaned forward, he wrapped both arms around me and rolled until my back pressed against the bed. He positioned himself between my legs, the tip of his manhood brushing the folds of my sex, as he kissed his way down my neck and collarbone toward my breasts. When his tongue traced one peak, my protest gushed from my lips on a sigh. I couldn’t bring myself to break the touch, or of his other hand rolling my nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Every suck and pull zipped straight between my legs, until I throbbed in a way that could only be appeased by the manhood resting between them.

  But when he found my entrance and slowly started to nudge in, I froze.

  “Stop.” I pushed at his shoulder, urging him to break contact.

  He loomed above me. His arms shook. Something like pain was written on his face. He didn’t plunge forward, but he didn’t remove his thick tip from my entrance, either.

  I pushed at his shoulder again. “You promised I could be in control.”

  He canted his head to the side. Shifting his weight onto one arm, he used the other to capture my hand and bring it to his lips. “You are,” he said, his voice husky with desire. He drew my index finger into his mouth and sucked on the tip. “Everything I do is for you.”

  He flexed his hips, sliding in a fraction of an inch deeper. My eyes rolled back in my head. I almost arched into him but stopped myself. This wasn’t right. I forced my eyes open to meet his gaze as I demanded. “Then I’m on top. Those are my terms.”

  When he retracted the tip of his manhood from my channel, I nearly wept at the loss. I wanted him and much more. He rolled onto his back, lifting his arms over his head. His gaze was hot, ardent, when he rasped, “Anything.”

  He wanted—no, needed me, just as much as I needed him. It was inevitable, this combustion, this inferno between us. And heaven help me, but I couldn’t help but fan the flames.

  I straddled his hips, reaching down between my legs to find his manhood. I stroked it, reveling in the contrast of his hard member against the smooth skin, before I positioned it at my entrance. Meeting his gaze, I sank onto his member.

  I’d never felt more exquisite torture. When the stretching, the burning mounted close to pain, I paused. He gripped my hips hard, leaving indents in my skin. His chest heaved with the force of his breaths. With difficulty, he lifted his eyelids to meet my gaze.

  “I thought you said you weren’t a virgin.”

  “I’m not.” My voice was breathy. I rolled my hips from side to side, trying to force my body to accept his girth before I sank down even further.

  He moaned my name in a voice every bit as laden with desire. “You feel virginal to me.”

  I leaned forward, bracing my hands on his upper arms as I slid down another inch. Something inside me prevented him from sliding in any further. At least, not easily. I rolled my hips again, testing the sensation. Distracted, I told him, “I’ve made love to women before.”

  His hands tightened on my hips. “Not…men?” Given the hesitation in his voice, he was in pain as well.

  I swallowed, meeting his gaze as I admitted, “No.”

  I half-expected him to demand we stop. His member throbbed inside my channel, twitching against my inner walls. He licked his lips.

  His eyes were dark, earnest as he confessed, “I’m honored to be your first.” His words rumbled through his chest and abdomen, vibrating over my thighs.

  I averted my gaze. “But I’m not your first, am I?”

  He reached up to cup my uninjured cheek, turning my head toward him. Tears thre
atened, but I held them back. I wouldn’t let them blur my vision further or ruin the moment. After all, he wasn’t the man I would marry. This was only pretend.

  “Mary, you are my first in many things. There is no woman like you. No woman who can possibly compare. I hope you’ll be my first in many things to come.”

  Something hot and achy settled in my chest. I couldn’t breathe properly, let alone speak. So I didn’t even try. Instead, I leaned forward and claimed his mouth. The movement drew me off his member, but he didn’t protest. Instead, he kissed me back, sweetly and slowly, with his hands cupping my head to keep me near.

  When I nibbled on his bottom lip, his kisses grew hotter, more urgent. We devoured each other. He battled to sit partway up, encouraging me to lean back again. With one hand, he positioned his cock at my entrance, but he didn’t push in. He left that to me. I rolled my hips, teasing the both of us as his tip slid in and out of my slick channel. Then, in one quick move, I took him to the hilt.

  I wasn’t prepared for the sharp stab of pain. I fisted my hands on his shoulders, digging in my fingernails as I held perfectly still, waiting for my body to adjust to the intrusion.

  Edwin captured one of my hands. He lifted it to his mouth, pressing open-mouthed kisses to my palm and wrist. He drew my finger into his mouth, paying special attention to it until I started to squirm.

  He raised his other hand and teased my nipples with his rough touch. I gasped, writhing against him. His shaft twitched inside me, begging me to move.

  So I did. Slowly at first, a languid slide up and down. Edwin moaned. My finger slipped from between his lips as he threw his head back. His hands dropped to my hips, holding me steady. Then urging me to a faster pace.

  I gladly obliged, rocking against him. I swiveled my hips on the downward stroke. He moaned my name, his throat working. I leaned forward to run my tongue from the base of his throat over his Adam’s apple to his jaw.

  “Mary.” He clenched my hips harder, forcing me back onto his cock when the movement almost pulled me off.

  I took up the rhythm he set, the one he met me stroke for stroke. A hard, fast, punishing pace that had both of us breathing hard.