by Darcy Burke
She wasn’t going to let that happen again. Not tonight.
Opening her eyes, she tore the cravat from his neck and dropped it to the floor. Then she tucked her hands inside the collar of his shirt, allowing her palms to caress his warm flesh. The muscles of his neck and shoulders corded beneath her touch as he stroked his thumb over her breast.
She gasped, closing her eyes once more as she gave herself completely into his care. He untied the sash at her waist and opened her dressing gown, leaving just the thin cotton of her night rail between them.
When his hand touched her breast again, she felt him so much more keenly. She had to grip his shoulders and hold tightly lest she collapse into a heap. His mouth moved lower, kissing the flesh above the top of her night rail. He tugged at the fabric, making the garment rise up in the back and press against her neck.
But it was enough to expose her breast. He pushed her flesh up, and cool air bathed her nipple just before his fingers closed around it.
She thrust her hand into the hair at his nape, tangling her fingers in the soft strands and tugging with need. He pinched her gently, drawing a low moan from her throat. Then his mouth replaced his fingers, his lips and tongue suckling her flesh as a wave of desire pulsed to her core.
He wasn’t against her down there anymore, and she missed the pressure of him. She needed to feel him, to savor the promise of whatever he would do to deliver her from this sweet torment.
“Felix, please.”
He lifted his head, his eyes dark with passion, his features taut with need. “Please what?”
“I need… I don’t know what I need.”
“This is not a good idea.” And yet he didn’t move.
“No, but it’s the only thing I’ve wanted in weeks.” Was she asking him to fulfill her desires? That was what he did, wasn’t it?
Oh God, she couldn’t ask this of him. There were limits to what a person could give. And there were certainly boundaries, especially between them.
“Felix, I want… I want you.”
“You want what I can give you.”
She wasn’t sure what he was trying to say. And she was afraid the obstacles between them were too great. “Is that so bad?”
He kissed her again, his mouth ravaging hers. Then he swept her into his arms, drawing a gasp from her lips, and carried her to the settee, where he laid her down.
He bent over her, and drew in a ragged breath. “If you want me to stop, I will stop. You have only to say so—at any time.”
She reached up and unbuttoned his waistcoat. “I will expect you to do the same.”
Felix dropped one shoulder and then the other as she pushed the garment from his body, tugging it down his arms and then casting it aside. He leaned forward again and kissed her, a now familiar and incredibly arousing sensation that Sarah doubted she could ever get enough of.
He put his knee between her thighs, pinning her clothing around her, as he dragged his mouth down her throat, his tongue trailing along her flesh. Fire blazed wherever he touched her, sending her into a feverish urgency. Her flesh tingled, her breasts felt full and sensitive, her sex pulsed with need. She found herself pushing against his thigh to ease the craving she didn’t know how to satisfy.
His hand skimmed along her thigh, and he lifted his leg as he pushed the night rail up. As with her breast a few moments ago, cool air rushed over her sex. She felt utterly exposed and wanton. She should call a halt to this, but she could not.
When his fingers touched her there, she rose up off the settee, her body tensing with a combination of surprise and yearning. He rubbed her flesh, feeding the flames burning within her.
He teased one of her nipples with his other hand, stirring every part of her. Flooded with sensation, she cast her head back, desperate for wherever he was taking her.
He stroked the flesh between her legs, pushing her toward something she was eager to grasp. She arched up, her body tensing, and grabbed his upper sleeve, her hand fisting around the linen. His arm moved as he touched her, his fingertips moving with deft precision, finding every spot that would elicit sensation more arousing than the last.
Just when she wondered how this could possibly end, he slipped a finger inside her. She knew the fundamentals of sexual intercourse and that he would put a body part into her, but she hadn’t expected that one. She hadn’t expected any of this. She fought to hold on to rational thought, but it began to slip away beneath the onslaught of his attentions. In and out he slid, creating a delicious friction. She moved her hips, seeking, wanting, needing more.
He’d managed to move her night rail to suckle her breast again, and the draw of his mouth coupled with the stroke of his finger and the push of his thumb sent her over the edge of the precipice she hadn’t even realized she’d reached.
Her body tensed as rapture spun through her. She was lost in a dark, sweet oblivion. His mouth crashed over hers, and she realized she’d cried out. But now he swallowed the sound, kissing her with deep abandon.
Gradually, her body relaxed, and her limbs felt as though they would melt into puddles. He’d gentled the kiss, and now pulled back, moving his lips across her jaw before leaving a final kiss just beneath her ear. He eased away from her, drawing her night rail down over her thighs.
Sarah opened her eyes. “You’re finished?”
His eyes narrowed slightly, and there was a flash of uncertainty in his gaze. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you? I was sure you did.”
“More than I can say. More than I ever imagined. But you… What about you?”
He smiled and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “This was never about me.” He took her hand and drew her up to a sitting position.
She shifted her legs to the floor but kept her body angled toward him. “I didn’t realize that.” If it was about her, then she really didn’t understand. “I didn’t ask you to stop.”
He sat facing her, his leg bent so that his knee was on the settee. “This is all we can—or should—do,” he said. “Mostly.”
“Mostly?” She couldn’t stop looking at the V of his chest exposed by the opening of his shirt. Dark hair peeked through the opening, and her fingers itched to touch him.
“There are other things.”
“Such as you putting your…cock inside me.” She used the word Lavinia had told her.
He sucked in a breath. “Sarah, could you not use…that word?”
She flinched. “You find it offensive?”
“No, I find it arousing.”
Heat swelled inside her. “Oh. Will you show me more?”
“Not tonight. And I probably shouldn’t ever.” His face creased, making him look pained. “This was rather ill-advised.”
“I don’t regret it, and I never will. Please don’t tell me you do.” She looked at him intently. “I’m quite serious—don’t tell me.”
He took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, pressing a kiss into her palm. “I could never regret anything with you.” His words were as heady as the things he’d done to her, as the promise of the things he would do.
“I would like you to show me more. And next time, it won’t be entirely about me.” She leaned forward and kissed him, her lips lingering against his for a moment before she pulled back and looked into his eyes. “It can’t always be about pleasing others, Felix. You must let someone please you.”
“And that someone is you?”
She gave him a saucy smile in response and stood from the settee. She pulled her dressing gown closed and tied the sash as she made her way from the sitting room.
Once inside her chamber, her heart began to pound as the enormity of what had just occurred slammed into her. Things had changed forever when they’d kissed at Darent Hall, and they’d changed yet again tonight.
One thing was certain: her relationship with Felix would never be the same.
The wind whipped over Felix’s face as he rode across his estate at a breakneck pace. The exercise felt good, both in his body and his min
d. He’d spent most of the night tossing and turning—and staring at the ceiling—contemplating what in the hell he’d done.
But not regretting it.
He slowed his horse to a walk and patted his neck as they picked their way along the edge of the forested part of his land. After days of fine weather, today was overcast and cool, but it felt good. Probably because he was still overheated from last night.
He hadn’t meant for any of it to happen. She’d been upset. He’d wanted to comfort her. Somehow, he’d kissed her temple. He hadn’t even thought about it. His body had simply reacted to what she needed and provided what he thought would help.
And then she’d kissed him back.
He didn’t think they could pretend this event hadn’t happened, but then they hadn’t been able to pretend the one at Darent Hall hadn’t either. What the hell was going on? How had he become so desperately attracted to Sarah Colton?
Was it more than physical attraction? He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her in ways he never had before. Ways he’d never thought of any woman.
Felix wiped his hand over his face as if he could physically banish the thoughts and memories, but they were forever emblazoned on his mind. Forever?
He couldn’t say, but he was certainly tormented by them. All night, he’d thought of her, even after frigging himself the moment he’d returned to his chamber. Images of her doing what she’d all but promised—pleasuring him—claimed his thoughts, both waking and sleeping. Even now, he was growing hard thinking of the provocative smile she’d given him.
“You must let someone please you.”
“And that someone is you?”
God yes, he wanted it to be her. But how could he allow that? He had no intention of marrying her, and her brother was his best friend. Plus, their parents had just died. She was vulnerable, and he was a prick for taking advantage.
Maybe they could pretend it hadn’t happened. Like they’d been able to pretend Darent Hall hadn’t happened? He scoffed at himself.
He could only hope that she’d awakened today and recalled last night in horror. He inwardly flinched at that, but it would be for the best. What he really ought to do is stay clear of her. But how did he do that when he was committed to helping her—and Anthony—work through their grief?
He didn’t have an answer, but what he did have was a plan to stay away from the house all day. Which was how he found himself at the dower house to meet his uncle.
Martin was already on horseback awaiting Felix as he rode up. “It looks as though you’ve already been for a ride,” Martin said.
“Yes. Shall we go?” Felix had sent a note earlier requesting Martin tour the estate with him.
“Of course.” Martin urged his horse forward and joined Felix along the track. “I was a bit surprised to receive your note.”
“Why? I always take a tour in the summer,” Felix said, continuing to walk his horse.
“True, but with guests in residence, I assumed you would be busy.”
“I don’t know why you would assume that. I never have guests.”
“That’s true.” Martin cocked his head. “Why is that? I hope it’s not because of me.”
It was—in a way. Stag’s Court didn’t feel as much of a home to Felix as his town house in London. Probably because he spent very little time here—a handful of weeks in the summer and maybe a few in the winter before the Season started. The rest of the time he spent in London or at a house or hunting party with friends.
“Your reputation is one as a host,” Martin continued. “You could host a house party here. Just because Michael will inherit one day doesn’t mean you can’t still enjoy your time as earl.”
His “time.” As if it were a fleeting thing. But Felix supposed it was. If he’d learned anything, it was that life was short, and it was up to each person to make the most of it. Or not.
Felix tried to make the most of it—for himself and for those around him.
This belief had never felt more important than since the Coltons’ death. Death had snatched them away, robbing them and their children of their “time.” Just as it had done with Felix’s mother. He gave himself an internal shake. Why was he thinking of her?
Martin exhaled. “I was merely trying to make a suggestion.”
Felix realized he’d never responded to his uncle. “I was considering it,” he said. “I did invite more guests, but I wouldn’t call it a party.” Though with him, Anthony, and Beck together, it would certainly be entertaining. Provided he kept Anthony from falling back into his guilt.
And kept himself from dreaming of Sarah.
It was good that Beck and Lavinia were coming. Lavinia would keep Sarah busy, and then Felix could stop paying so much attention to her.
They rode in silence for a moment before Martin said, “Thank you for inviting Michael to town. I was going to suggest it. He’ll need some exposure at the clubs and in Society.”
Because he would be earl one day. “Pardon my morbidity, but what if he dies before me?” Felix asked.
Martin sent him a surprised look. Or maybe not. With his overly large eyes, it was hard to tell. “I shall pray that doesn’t happen. The other reason I’m pleased you’re taking him to town is so he can join the Marriage Mart. I suppose I should go with him to support his search for a wife. Or his mother, at least.” Martin’s lip curled as he mentioned her.
“Does Michael wish to marry so soon?” Felix felt sorry for the boy.
“He knows his duty,” Martin said with a careless air. “He understands how important the earldom is, and his role within it.”
Felix’s insides churned with malcontent. Martin hadn’t been trying to slight Felix—of that Felix was certain. Martin wanted his son to inherit and so accepted Felix’s desire to remain unwed. Felix tried to recall when they had first discussed this arrangement, but no memory came to mind.
“Still, he needn’t hurry.” Felix didn’t want his choice to remain a bachelor to push Michael into a marriage he might not want.
Martin gave him a smile that didn’t seem to reach his bulbous eyes, but then they rarely did. His eyes were like those of a fish—all-seeing, emotionless, and rather unnerving. “You needn’t worry about it, Felix.”
No, he supposed he didn’t. He kicked his horse into a trot and turned his attention to the estate.
By the time Felix returned to the house, it was midafternoon. He’d done a good job staying away—rather, avoiding Sarah—and now he would take a bath to continue that evasion.
However, as he passed the upstairs sitting room, he slowed at the sound of loud voices.
“I can’t believe you would do this,” Anthony said. “Mother and Father would be horrified.”
Felix’s heart stopped and then beat a rapid staccato, the sound resonating in his ears. He couldn't move.
“They wouldn’t care so long as the end result was my happiness.”
God, she hadn’t told him about—? Felix removed his hand and combed his fingers through his hair. Anthony was going to be furious. Hell, he sounded halfway there already.
“What does Felix say?” Anthony asked, his voice climbing. “Or was this his idea?”
Oh, fuck, this wasn’t good. Felix was torn between inserting himself into the conversation and hiding in his bedchamber until tomorrow. Or maybe next year.
“It was his idea to bring me these things, and he does support my plan. But the shop is entirely my design.”
The shop.
Felix exhaled, and his body nearly sagged into the floor. He should insert himself, then—to convince Anthony it wasn’t a terrible idea.
“Did I hear my name?” he asked as he stepped into the sitting room.
Sarah stood in front of a table upon which sat a half-made hat. The form was covered in a pale yellow fabric she was clearly in the process of stitching to the straw. She turned to look at Felix, as did Anthony.
“What the hell are you doing supporting this ridiculous notion of a milli
nery shop?” Anthony asked.
“It’s not ridiculous,” he and Sarah said in unison. Their gazes connected, and an undeniable warmth passed between them.
“Our parents wouldn’t approve.” Anthony frowned. “This is no way to honor their memory.” He glowered at Sarah. “I thought you were going to marry.”
“I plan to. In the meantime, I will start a millinery shop. I have it all sorted, Anthony. I have an assistant who will manage the store in Vigo Lane. It will be called Farewell’s and have no outward connection to me at all. No one will know I own it or that the designs are mine.”
“In Vigo Lane.” Anthony blinked at her in disbelief. “You already have the store?”
“Not yet, but Felix was working on it.”
Felix winced as Anthony turned his ire toward him. “You’ve been in on this for some time.”
“Just since I offered to help her find a husband. Anthony, she doesn’t want to marry just anyone. She wants to marry for love. If that doesn’t happen, she has a plan to support herself and live happily in the pursuit of something she does love. What could be wrong with that?”
“Just because you’re content to lead an unmarried life, doesn’t mean she should. Christ, Felix, you can’t force your unorthodox behavior on her.”
“Why is Felix unorthodox?” Sarah said, springing to his defense. “Plenty of men—and women—don’t marry.”
Anthony looked at her with condescension. “Plenty of women, yes. There are more of them due to the wars. Men, particularly men in Felix’s and my positions, must wed. It’s our duty. That Felix chooses to shirk his is unorthodox.”
Felix stared at his oldest friend and wondered who the hell he was. He knew how hard Anthony had taken his parents’ death. “I think your grief is driving you to the brink of insanity,” Felix said quietly, hoping to calm Anthony’s anger.
“Or at least foolishness,” Sarah said, exchanging a hopeful glance with Felix.
