The gravelly texture to his voice made him wince. What power did this woman have over him that she could take him from determined to do something, anything, to bring their relationship back to a more formal position, to being ready to drop to his knees and beg to touch her?
Her tongue darted out to sweep her bottom lip. Had he not been aware of Elsie playing on the carpet, he might have stepped forwards at that moment and tasted the sweet, plump ripeness of those lips.
“If I’m very honest, I don’t really know.” She released a wavery smile. “I want you, August, and I have never really wanted a man before.”
Ten rounds? No, make that twenty rounds. At this point she could knock him down with a feather. I want you. Those three words rattled around his skull over and over. She’d never wanted another man, yet somehow she wanted him. He, with his grumpy, uptight ways. This beautiful, exotic creature wanted the unadventurous, staid house pet.
Every part of him tensed. Every part of him. Damn it, as controlling as he was, why could he not also control his body? Ivy had brought him to that edge again and now he was teetering on it.
“Do you understand what you ask of me, Ivy? I’m a flesh and blood man and you are a spectacular woman. You shouldn’t speak to a man that way.”
“I’m not speaking to just any man,” she told him, drawing up her chin. The uncertainty was gone and if he’d been a bright man, he’d have fled then, but apparently he was the dimmest man in the world. “I’m speaking to you, August.”
She had to know. Had to know what it did to him when she said his name. “I’m not a dishonourable man but you make me want to be one,” he said through clenched teeth. He forced his hands to his sides.
Ivy tilted her head. “You’ll always be honourable to me.”
Elsie had apparently tired of her train as she began tugging at his trouser leg. He grimaced. Could he be any bigger of a fool? Hell, he’d been entertaining thoughts of pulling Ivy into him, kissing her until she was malleable and willing in his arms and then dragging her upstairs to show her what she was asking of him. Except this was the middle of the day, Elsie needed seeing to and Ivy was his employee.
Uncurling a fist, he dashed his hand across his face and bit back a groan. “I’m going out,” he said curtly. Ivy put out a hand, the flat of her palm facing him as though she could hold him back. He pressed past her. “You’re testing me beyond my limits, Ivy.”
He didn’t wait for a response but he imagined her standing there, open-mouthed. He snatched his hat from the hat stand and jammed it on his head. Then he stepped outside and drew in a deep breath. August refused to glance at the window to see if she watched him leave. He took the steps quickly down to the pavement and strode in the direction of the library. Really, he’d prefer to visit the boxing club but his body was still recovering from the last beating he had taken and he had work to do.
And he had to figure out what do with Ivy. Had he ever met a woman so bold? He eased past a group of four walking leisurely along the street. He didn’t think so. In truth, his occupation meant he mostly spent time with men. What few women he’d socialised with were gently bred types who would never declare their desire for a man, perhaps not even if he was their husband. It just wasn’t done.
Dread pooled in his stomach as he spotted a flamboyant hat up ahead. Purple and green feathers sprouted from this monstrosity and Mrs Pepperwhite wore a similarly garish dress.
He knew the moment she’d spotted him. Her pace grew more determined. She had the look of a hunter chasing down her prey. Why he had to be the hunted, he didn’t know. Surely there were other more eligible, interesting men out there? He hadn’t once encouraged her... had he? He had been trying to fight his attraction to Ivy and failed there. Perhaps he had given off some invisible signal that told Mrs Pepperwhite he found her company anything other than tiresome.
A carriage passed by, then several men on horseback. He kept an eye out for an opening to cross whilst continuing headlong towards the widow. He couldn’t appear rude but if he found a moment to cross the street, he would. Alas, no opportunity appeared and she was upon him before he could even debate throwing himself under the wheels of a carriage to save him the discomfort of a conversation with the woman.
“Mr Avery,” she greeted, slightly breathless.
No doubt hunting down her prey had left her winded. He allowed himself a twisted smile. If she saw the wryness behind it, she didn’t reveal as much in her expression. Instead she fairly beamed at him.
“Mrs Pepperwhite.”
“Your nursemaid is not with you?”
He tightened his jaw. She knew well she was not and she’d already thrown some disparaging remarks his way about Ivy. Why Mrs Pepperwhite wanted to discuss her, he did not know, but he intended to put an end to the subject with haste. He’d come out to forget Ivy, or at least figure out the riddle of her, not to talk of her with the interfering neighbour.
“She is not, as you can see.” He glanced around. “Mrs Pepperwhite, I am in quite a hurry, so if you’ll...”
“Did you receive your invitation to the Grandbury gathering?”
“Yes, just this morning.”
“I am helping organise it, you see.”
He let his brows lift. Mrs Pepperwhite was relatively well-regarded in their social circle. Men of industry such as himself, without rank or title, tended to remain as part of a certain echelon of society. They were respected, admired, but were never quite esteemed like those with a title. Not that it bothered him, but the duke was an enterprising man and was ambitious. He knew that to succeed in the modern world, he needed men like August. But what use did he have for Mrs Pepperwhite?
“I have become a close companion to the duchess,” she clarified.
Inwardly, he groaned. She’d been hoping for the chance to tell him all and his obvious surprise had given her that chance.
“I did not know.”
“Well, my late husband was a friend of the duke and naturally when he passed, Her Grace took an interest. Now I am to help. Is that not exciting?”
He stared at her for some time, his gaze straying up to the bobbing feathers of her hat. Did he seem the sort to be excited by gatherings? By the arrangement of flowers or the planning of meals? Mrs Pepperwhite really didn’t understand him one jot.
Ivy did though. She knew to leave him in peace when he was working and that frivolities did little for him. She knew not to discuss insipid subjects but that when she was passionate about something, he would become interested. They so rarely did small talk.
“Very exciting,” he replied drolly.
“We are going to have a large orchestra and a famous singer. A Miss Labelle is coming all the way from France.”
His jaw began to hurt as he clenched it tightly shut. Did everything have to make him think of Ivy? He imagined her singing to a crowd at the duke’s home and everyone marvelling at her voice and beauty. Then he imagined stealing her away and keeping her to himself so that only he got to marvel in it. Jealousy at this fictitious moment burned through him and made his necktie tight.
“That is fascinating, Mrs Pepperwhite, but if you will excuse me...”
“I hope you shall save me a dance,” she said, her voice reaching an octave that it really shouldn’t as he made to walk away.
Dear God, the desperation in her tone was enough to make his insides shrivel. If he paused to think about it, he might feel pity for her but her dismissive attitude towards Ivy had increased his dislike towards her and pity couldn’t work through it. Besides which the woman was rich enough. She’d be snapped up by some enterprising man before long and he’d be tolerating her sniping instead of him. He almost looked forward to that day.
“Of course I will,” he replied for politeness sakes. “Good day, Mrs Pepperwhite.”
For the second time that day, he found himself escaping a woman. Between Ivy, Mrs Pepperwhite and Elsie, the fairest sex was certainly intent on throwing him off that bridge. If only one particular w
oman did not make that fall look so tempting.
Chapter Fifteen
August laid there for several moments, his heart beating like a drum in his chest. He drew in several breaths and eyed the dark surroundings of his bedroom. It was dark, almost pitch black thanks to the heavy curtains, but his instincts told him it had to be around three in the morning. What had awoken him at three in the morning? Was it Elsie?
He tried to stifle his ragged breaths and listen. Strands of his dreams filtered back to him as he waited in the darkness. He realised he was hard and his skin was clammy. Smirking at himself, he gave up listening and relaxed against the feather pillow.
She wanted him. How was a man meant to function when the woman he wanted was mere footsteps away? It was a mighty fine job two doors separated them. He snorted to himself. Two doors, what would that do? There were no locks on them. He ought to have one installed on hers. Or better yet on his. Have her lock it from the outside and only unleash him in the light of day when it was safe.
No, that idea was terrible too. She’d never be safe and he couldn’t trust her to lock it. The damned inquisitive chit was intent on pushing him until he cracked and took everything he wanted from her.
He swiped a hand across his damp brow. Even a day of working in the library had done nothing to diminish his need for her. Instead he’d recalled every touch of her body and the way she begged for him to kiss her. And then her honest admissions earlier that day...
For Christ sake’s what was a man to do?
August jolted upright as a thump sounded. There, that was what had awoken him. Footsteps. Was she sleep-walking again or merely seeing to Elsie? He hadn’t heard the baby cry and Elsie was becoming much better at sleeping through the night.
He bunched a hand around his bedding, his muscles tight. Go to her or stay in his bed? Give in and see her in her chemise, her hair wild around her head or lie in his cold, empty bed? Follow temptation or retain control? He knew what he would normally choose, but Ivy had a way of turning the world on its head and making forbidden fruit so sweet that even he could not resist.
The door handle rattled and his heart nearly jumped out of his throat. It seemed she’d made the decision for him. Was she coming to seduce him? To beg him? He lay there, stiff as a board—in many places, he admitted with a grim smile to himself—as the door opened.
Soft footfalls announced her entry into his room. She left the door ajar, perhaps so they could hear Elsie though that child’s cry could echo through the most solid of walls. It meant the small amount of light from the hallway window slipped past her and silhouetted her form. Billowing cotton, wild hair.
Irresistible.
He waited for her hands upon him and summoned the words in his dry throat to send her away. Apparently his tongue had become glued to the top of his mouth because sound refused to come out.
She lifted the blankets and a rush of cool air slipped across his bare legs. At least he wasn’t sleeping fully naked, though the nightshirt wouldn’t protect her from much. His arousal currently pressed hard against the cotton, straining for release.
“Ivy,” he managed to croak out, but she ignored him and slid in next to him. The cool air was replaced with a warm, supple body. He groaned. “Ivy, return to your bed. I’m not doing this.”
And yet she continued to ignore him. Damn her stubbornness. She was determined to turn him into a lunatic. An arm wrapped about his waist, then she nuzzled into his neck. He waited for more. A touch to his bare cock perhaps or a kiss to his jaw but nothing came. Instead her soft breaths whispered over the bristle on his chin, increasing his need until he was nothing but a raging ball of lust.
What sort of torture was this?
“Ivy, go back to bed,” he rasped.
No response. He peered at the top of her motionless head. He couldn’t help but chuckle. She had been sleep-walking, not coming here to seduce him. If only that knowledge took the edge off his need.
Still, regardless of how much he needed to be buried inside her, he certainly wouldn’t take advantage of a sleeping woman. He tried to ease out from underneath her but she was surprisingly heavy.
And warm. So warm.
Soft too. Oh God, so soft. Her hair smelled like roses and the faint scent of violets seemed to increase as her body grew warmer against his. If they weren’t careful, they were going to combust with the amount of heat gathering under his blankets.
His arm grew stiff and he had no choice but to shift and curl it around her. At least that was what he told himself. If he didn’t, he’d wake up to find it had dropped off from lack of circulation. That was the only reason he cradled her in his arms, and it had nothing to do with how much he’d missed having a woman in his bed. It had certainly been too long.
Not that this was just any woman. This was Ivy.
His employee. He shook his head, wiping the word from his mind for a moment.
This was Ivy—radiant, beautiful, fascinating Ivy. The woman who tested his every constraint and broke through his control with a mere touch.
He’d have to send her back to her bed.
She nuzzled her face into his neck. Had any of the women he’d bedded nuzzled him? August couldn’t recall. They’d been brief affairs of mutual pleasure.
Then she sighed. A deep, long sigh of contentment. The sound enveloped his heart and made it skip a few beats. She felt safe in his arms and he would do nothing to ruin that. He’d help her back to bed in a moment.
Letting his eyes close, he focused on the supple warmth of her and her steady breaths. First he would take a moment to enjoy this. He couldn’t recall ever just embracing a woman. It was a heady sensation indeed.
He wouldn’t let himself stay like this for long. Just a few more minutes...
***
“Oh dear.” Ivy lifted her head away from the cotton covered form of August. How had she ended up here? Had she been sleep-walking again?
She pondered his arm around her for a moment and gazed down at him. As much as she had dreamed of moments like this with him, she’d never intended to sneak into his bedroom. Had he awoken or had he slept through it and this was just how they had ended up, wrapped around each other?
Skimming her gaze over his stubbled jaw, she stared at the hint of dark hair at the collar of his shirt. Her fingers prickled at the memory of feeling that crisp hair. And then at feeling more than that. How would he react if she slipped a hand down and touched him there properly this time?
August seemed determined to put their relationship back to a master-employee status. But how could they go back when she had seen what she had? When the memories of him calling her name and taking his pleasure burned in her brain?
He still wanted her, surely? He couldn’t deny it, even if he didn’t know she had watched him. What harm would it do? She never intended to marry or live a respectable life. She might gain fame and fortune if she followed her chosen path but there would still be those who saw her as nothing more than a whore. How unfair it was that male singers never had to tolerate such scrutiny and disparagement.
Ivy allowed herself to relax into his hold once more. What if it never happened again? What if she never found a man who sparked such an interest? Her mother would almost certainly call her a whore for wanting more from her master but she didn’t believe what was between them was as sordid as the sort of thing whores partook in. After all, he respected her. He’d proven that by his refusal to sully her.
Goodness, how wanton she was. But who could blame her? She let her palm rest on his chest and watched the rise and fall of it. Every part of him was hard—so at odds with her curvy body. It fascinated her.
Of their own accord it seemed, her fingers slipped under the loose collar of his shirt and found the dark hair there. She swirled a fingertip through the coarse strands then tugged lightly.
“What the—?”
He jolted awake and she regretted her curiosity. If she had remained still, she might have enjoyed this moment a little longer. N
ow he was likely to send her away.
But then she met his gaze and saw the darkening of his blue eyes as his pupils widened. His eyes were still slightly hooded from sleep as he gazed down at her. Her stomach flipped over with anticipation and she drew up to lean over him, curiosity guiding her every move. She wanted to see him better, to enjoy the sight of his tousled hair and rough jaw-line.
Biting down on her bottom lip, she brought a finger up to trace along the stubble on his chin. Then she skimmed his bottom lip. A crease formed between his brows and he opened and closed his eyes as though unable to quite understand who she was and what she was doing.
His gaze cleared when she brushed her finger across his bottom lip again and he nipped at the tip, taking it lightly between his teeth before releasing it.
“What are you doing?” His voice was gruff and it seemed to drag across her skin in the most beautiful way, setting her body alight with awareness.
“I don’t know,” she confessed. “How did I get here?”
“I didn’t bring you here, if that’s what you mean.”
“Of course you didn’t.” His hands latched around her arms and his intention to lever her away became clear. He wouldn’t rid himself of her that easily.
She lowered to press a kiss to the same places she’d traced. His chin was bristly and rough against her lips. She remembered that same roughness against her skin and her sex pulsed. When her mouth met his and lingered on his bottom lip, his hands on her arms relaxed. Triumph burst through her.
Breasts flat against his chest, she whispered to him, “I still want you. I’m sorry that I got frightened, but I’m not scared now.”
His hands tightened again. “Damn it, Ivy, do you have any idea what you do to a man? Particularly one who has just awoken?”
“No.” She really did not.
August released her arms and his hands found her waist. In one easy movement, he had her straddling him. With only the cotton of their clothing between them, she felt his hard arousal prodding her stomach.
“That is what you do.”
Kissed at Midnight Page 12
