Becoming Lady Thomas (Becoming Her Book 1)

by Webster, K

  Her green eyes fly to mine and she glares at me. “Of course not. How could you say such a thing to me?” Behind the anger, she appears to be stung by my words, a slight quiver of her bottom lip being her tell.

  I shake my head at her. “Honeysuckle, men like that use and abuse women.”

  “Like you use and abuse me,” she snips out.

  This time, I’m the one hurt by her words. “Get out. I don’t want to see you over here ever again. Do you understand me?”

  Her eyes flood with tears and her nose turns pink. My heart aches, but she must realize how dangerous my work can be. Men like Mr. Caulder would damage my honeysuckle beyond repair just to get back at me. She can’t ever be in their presence. And because of their meeting, death is certain on his part. I can’t take any chances with men like him.

  “Elisabeth, this wing is forbidden,” I tell her in a low voice, “and should I see you so much as step one pale foot into the hallway of this wing again, I will punish you. You like playing the damsel in distress, locked away by some monster. I will become that monster. Are my words clear enough for you?”

  Her eyes widen in horror, and I swallow down the satisfaction. I need her to fear the unknown because being seen by any of the men I do business with is a risk to her safety.

  She’s still gaping at me when I stride over to her in a few short steps. A gasp rushes from her when my chest brushes against hers. The fact that, even though I scolded her, she still wants me has me smiling smugly at her.

  “I hate you.” Her words drip with venom.

  I slide a hand behind her neck and crash my lips to her hers. Her hand slaps at my chest as she fights my kiss. She’s a stubborn woman and won’t open her mouth to me. But when I slip my free hand under the dress shirt and run a finger down the slit of her pussy, she moans and gives me the access I demand to her mouth.

  “You don’t hate me,” I murmur between kisses.

  Her lips are swollen and ripe for nibbling. The sweet spot between her legs grows wetter and wetter with each bite.

  “I do,” she argues unconvincingly.

  Both of my hands find her plump arse and I lift her body. With an instinctive and mutual need, she wraps her legs around my waist. Our lips and tongues are a flurry of entanglement as I stride with her in my arms over to the wall. Once her back connects with the surface, I grind my cock into her bare pussy through my trousers.

  “Oh, God!” she cries out in pleasure.

  “Don’t call for him,” I growl, “because what I want to do to you is sinful.”

  Her moan is decadent and alluring as I push against her, needing my trousers gone in the worst possible way. If only the fabric could disappear and I could slam into her. The need to tear through her tight innocence is an addictive craving in which I need to indulge. Knowing I’ll be the one to make her bleed that first time as I forever make her mine nearly causes me to come in my pants.

  “Honeysuckle, I want to make love to you. Please,” I beg, which is unfamiliar for me.

  She tears away from my lips to regard me with glowing, green eyes. “No.”

  I glare at her. “What do you mean? You’re soaking my trousers because you want it as badly as I do.”

  Her cheeks redden in embarrassment, but she stays firm to her words. I hold her stare as I slowly rock in a circular motion against her body, rubbing her sensitive area in exactly the right way.

  “S-s-stop,” she tells me with lust-filled eyes before sucking her lip between her teeth.

  I pause my movement and raise an eyebrow at her. Her eyes fly back open and she wiggles against me.

  “Why do you pretend?” I question as I ignore her verbal wishes, granting those that are nonverbal by rubbing her again.

  “I don’t pretend,” she pouts breathlessly. “I’m here because I have to be. Not because I want to. I’ll never give you what you want.”

  She flutters her eyes closed and bites down on that luscious lip again. I can tell by the way her body tenses that she’ll orgasm just from how I am pressed against her.

  “Maybe I’ll just fucking take it anyway,” I snap as I thrust with force.

  A pleasure-filled moan erupts from her throat, but her eyes pop open at my words. “But you’ll fail. I’ll win if you do that. Are you ready to let me go so soon?”

  Her tone indicates that she might be disappointed to have to leave me. The thought of her gone sends maddening thoughts rippling through my head. It will be the most difficult task I’ve ever encountered, but I will keep from entering her against her wishes. I need to get through that stubborn heart of hers and make her realize she wants me as much as I want her.

  “I’ll never let you go, honeysuckle. You’re mine forever.”

  My words barely leave my lips before she comes apart wildly in my arms, the orgasm tearing through her with the force of a storm. This woman, whether she likes it or not, feels physically and emotionally for me. She’ll need more convincing, however, to make her brain understand what her heart feels.

  A plan begins to bubble in my head—one that would help her come to the conclusion faster. Pushing away my thoughts, I admire her post pleasure glow.

  “Do you feel better?” I tease when she finally opens her eyes.

  She smiles sheepishly at me. “I still hate you.” Her words are playful, though, and I certainly don’t believe them.

  “If this is how you react to me when you hate me, then I will be fucking ecstatic to see how you’ll behave when you love me.”

  Love.

  The idea is as foreign as begging for sex.

  “It would appear I arrived in time for the grand finale,” Alexander chuckles beside me.

  Both Elisabeth and I whip our heads in his direction, neither of us having noticed his stealthy arrival. Sneaky bastard.

  “Honeysuckle, meet me in the garden in an hour. I’ll escort you for a stroll,” I instruct and press a chaste kiss on her plump lips before carefully sliding her to her feet.

  She nods and scurries off out of the room. Alexander has wisely chosen to admire a painting rather than watch my half-naked woman as she exits.

  “Honeysuckle? Boy, brother, do you have it bad or what?” he laughs as he turns to regard me with a teasing grin.

  I shake my head at him. “She’s to be my wife. I’ve negotiated a deal for her.”

  His dark eyebrows fly up in surprise. “A deal? She certainly seems happy to have been purchased as your fuck toy.”

  I growl at his words. “She is not a fuck toy. Elisabeth will be my lover. My partner. My other half. In due time. Now, please don’t talk of her disrespectfully or I’ll break your nose.”

  Alexander, having known me since we were children, brushes off my threat. “Fine, Jaz. I’ll leave your woman alone. It surprises me that you haven’t already made her your lover. What’s the holdup? Did I literally interrupt your first fuck?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut. “It’s a long story.”

  A chair squeaks and I open my eyes to see him getting right comfortable.

  “Luckily for you, I have plenty of time, brother.”

  A groan rumbles in my chest, but I join him in the seating area and sit across from him. “I made a deal with her after the deal I made with her father. She was beautiful and innocent—I simply wanted to humor her,” I reveal and close my eyes again as I remember her determined, green eyes as she negotiated the terms of our deal. “Turns out, I must not take her virginity against her will should I want to keep her. And if she can remain a virgin for a fortnight’s time, then she will be free to go.”

  I pop my eyes back open and look at my friend. His eyebrows are narrowed thoughtfully as he listens to my story.

  “So, where in all of this do you get to keep her?”

  A breath rushes from my lungs. “If she gives herself to me.”

  Alexander’s lips form a pleased grin. “I’d say she was pretty damn well close a few minutes ago.”

  Groaning, I shake my head at him. “She says she
hates me. My Elisabeth is a stubborn woman, and I worry she’ll do whatever it takes to deny me, no matter how her body responds to me.”

  He frowns as he thinks. Alexander has always been a problem solver—even if it falls on the impractical or unethical side of things. He’ll always find a solution. Right now, I’ll take either as long as he can figure a way to convince her to stay.

  “I seem to be a little confused, dear brother. If the debt has been paid and she clearly wants you, why is she playing some child’s game? To what is she so eager to run off?” he questions.

  Anger flares in my chest. “Not what. Whom. She was set to marry some pigheaded fool before I came along. Everything about him stinks. The man pushed her aside for four years while he and her sister were at university. He expected her to be waiting when he came back. Unfortunately for him, I saw the angel and swooped in, knowing she wasn’t something to ever pass up. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her as mine.”

  Alexander’s eyes widen as he leans forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “Wait. You said he ran off to university with her sister? Do you think they had relations? Is she as pretty as Elisabeth?”

  Not at all. Elisabeth’s beauty is unmatched.

  “I doubt that any man could ever look at another after being with Elisabeth. And Edith is pretty, I suppose, but she’s no Elisabeth,” I assure him. “Even when she threw herself at me, knowing full well I was interested in her sister, I thwarted her advances easily.”

  A sly smile forms on his lips. “What if I did some digging? I could find out if they were ever, at any point, involved behind Elisabeth’s back. And if they weren’t, I have ways of proving that they were. Do you want me to work my magic? Spin a story if I have to so that Elisabeth is devastated and runs right into your open arms?”

  His idea is pure genius even though I know it will come at a cost.

  “I trust that, if anyone can make this work, it would be you. And what debt would I owe you?” I ask. I have more money than I could ever spend. The problem is that so does Alexander.

  With my dear friend who’s always been as close as a brother, it never is about money. Usually, it has something to do with his father—the prick of a man who has never treated Alexander properly.

  “Oh, Jaz, don’t think of it as a debt. Think of it as a favor. We’re brothers and we do these things for one another.” He smiles. “In fact, I have an idea that just might do.”

  I nod at him. My answer is already yes. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep my Elisabeth.

  “Father insists that I settle and find a wife. You and I both know I’ll never attach myself to one woman. However, it might suit both of us for me to handle your problem and then take your problem off your hands. If this Edith is as forward as you say she is, I might be able to convince her, at the right price, to be my faux bride. I’m certainly not opposed to blackmail if the opportunity arises,” he chuckles.

  “What about William?” I ask. “You can’t kill him. If he’s innocent of your theories, you cannot take his life. That would only drive Elisabeth further from me.”

  “Jaz, I’ll sort it out. In this day and age, anyone can be bought for the right price. Trust that I’ll come through. You do your part when it comes to helping me persuade Edith into agreeing. I’ll need a witness of someone with status such as yours of the authenticity of our union to help convince my father. I may call upon you for your help as this plays out.”

  Hope finally floods my system. “Of course, Alexander. I’ll do whatever you need. I think we have ourselves a deal.”

  Alexander and I shake hands out of formality, but our word is as good as any legally binding document. We’re just two brothers doling out favors for the other.

  I HATE HIM.

  Actually, I don’t hate him, which really makes me hate him.

  God, he is so confusing!

  Earlier, he was rotten with the lash of his tongue as he threatened me from ever setting foot in the east wing. It only fueled my desire to traipse around naked in front of his clients simply because I know that it would drive him mad.

  After I left, I took my time bathing and dressing. I have never been one to make myself up, but around Jasper, I want to be beautiful—even if it is for the pure reason of toying with him.

  As I walk down the hallway toward the door to the garden, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a long mirror. With my ruby-colored hair twisted up and only a few curled tendrils escaping, I appear to be more elegant than the woman I was who arrived just yesterday. The emerald, puff-sleeved dress I’m wearing today perfectly complements my hair color and eyes. It will drive Jasper wild—especially how, much like last night, the corset underneath lifts my breasts until they’re practically spilling out of the top. I hope that evil penis of his hardens at the sight.

  The thought of his penis causes my neck and cheeks to burn with embarrassment. Considering I hate him, I sure think about him a lot. Especially a naked him. Now, my ears burn too.

  “Thinking about me?”

  I spin on my heel to face the thief of my thoughts. He’s still wearing the charcoal-colored top coat, matching vest, and trousers. The white button-up is crisp and unwrinkled despite our earlier romp in the east wing. I’m appalled that my mouth actually waters at the sight of him.

  “I was thinking about freedom,” I bite out.

  His eyes darken as they fall to my mouth. My lips turn up on one corner in a half smile as I remember the dark rouge I discovered and stained my lips with. The color intensifies the pout on my lips, and by the way he appears to want to devour them, I’d say he likes the color.

  “You’ll never be free,” he growls.

  I stiffen and then frown as he stalks toward me, but I refuse to back down from his intimidation. When his strong hands grip my hips, I yelp in surprise. Just like every time he touches me, my body flares to life—responds to the way his thumbs caress my hipbones.

  “Honeysuckle, don’t you see? You’re a prisoner to my affection. A slave to your own mutual craving. Together, we are shackled by two hearts that only beat with vigor when the other is near. Now that you’ve had a taste, you’re every bit a prisoner as I am to the love that bubbles under the surface of our cat-and-mouse games. You may think you’d be happier elsewhere, but your heart would never beat the same—you would die from a broken, empty ache in your chest. My own heart fulfills that ache and makes you whole. Stop turning a blind eye to our love that could be and let fate chain you to me as it should.”

  His words silence me, and I mull them over. While they’re highly presumptuous, I can’t help the way my knees buckle at them. I sigh in relief when his hands tighten around my hips to steady me. Each time I’m away from him, I plan all of these ways to keep him at a distance, yet when he’s in my presence, he infects my soul. His scent snakes its way in through my nostrils and dizzies me. I lose all sanity because my mind focuses on one thing.

  Jasper.

  “May I kiss you, sweet Elisabeth?” he questions.

  The need in his voice causes my womb to throb in reciprocation. When he’s sweet, he’s utterly irresistible.

  I smile shyly at him. “Since you asked so nicely, you may, Jasper.”

  He wastes no time before his lips attack mine, certainly sucking the color right from them. I lose myself in the way he tastes and slip my hands up his chest and into his thick, brown hair. My lips part open to allow him to kiss me deeply, as I know we both want him to. He takes the invitation and engages his tongue with mine. Jasper is an incredible kisser, and everything else but him disappears while we have our moment.

  Just when I think we’ll kiss until we suffocate, he tears his mouth from me and rests his forehead on mine.

  “Honeysuckle, shall we go for a stroll in the garden before I lose control and do something we’ll both regret?”

  His hot, breathy words don’t frighten me—in fact, they excite me. I’ll never disclose to him that wayward thought.

  “I’m rather l
ooking forward to it,” I say with a smile.

  His grin matches the one on my face as he breaks away from me and threads his fingers with mine. Together, we walk until we reach a door that leads outdoors. As soon as he opens the door, a breeze envelops us and we step out into the garden. Today, rain is inevitable, but it’s still rather warm despite the lack of sunshine.

  “It’s beautiful,” I gasp as my eyes take in the sight. It is unexpected that a poised, stoic man such as Jasper would have such a garden hidden away.

  The garden is more or less a courtyard surrounded by four walls. Even though it is enclosed by the estate aside from the lack of roof, it is rather large and full of life—plant life, that is.

  He releases my hand so that I can touch a fully bloomed azalea bush. The flowers are delicate and stunning with their bright color. I could enjoy them all day. Bending forward, I inhale the unique scent of them.

  He chuckles as I flit about to each plant and flower and blubber on about their beauty. When I see a bench under a small tree bearing yellow fruits, I rush over to it and sit down. The sweet air fills my lungs, and I know that, tomorrow, I’ll choose this spot to read a book. I want to get lost in this garden and never leave.

  “Shall I lock you in here, prisoner?” he jests with a smile.

  I scrunch my nose at him and refrain from sticking my tongue out. “Don’t call me that.”

  “Do you prefer,” he asks as he sits on the bench close beside me, “honeysuckle?”

  My eyes follow his gesture to a plant beside him—a seemingly messy one displaying unusual yellow, delicate flowers. He plucks one of the flowers and tugs out the center part. When his tongue darts out, I part my mouth open and watch him taste it.

  “Mmm. So sweet. You’re still sweeter.” He smirks as his dark eyes lift to mine.

  Heat floods my cheeks and I look away only to glance right back at him. “Can I taste?”

  His eyes blaze with a need I don’t understand, but he nods. Then he repeats his actions and holds the sweet part up to my mouth. I lean forward and run my tongue across the end. It indeed tastes rather delicious like he claims.