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She pushed up onto her toes, her fingers laced behind his neck, and she kissed him. He tasted earthy—wild, almost—and that surprising discovery sent a shock wave through her brain. She kissed him again. “More,” she murmured, even though she knew she shouldn’t. His tongue invaded her mouth; he turned and, in one motion, lifted her onto the desk. Electricity sang through her body, and, as she twined her tongue with his, the idea ofshouldn’tstarted to become hazy. Her hands threaded through his cropped hair and she leaned back—arching her breasts toward him—wanting Dex to press her down with his body.Please, she whispered in her mind,Please, Dex.
His hands ran over her hips, but he didn’t move closer, so she deepened the kiss, letting her hands trail over his smooth jaw, the taut sides of his neck; then she slid her fingers around the lapels of his suit and tugged. With a groan, Dex pulled her against his chest again, his hands skimming up her back to gently tug on the blunt ends of her hair. She complied, letting her head fall back, and his hot, open mouth slid down her throat and nestled in the crook of her neck. He kissed her there, lingering.
“More,” she gasped out loud, clinging to his shoulders.
He kissed her throat again, his tongue branding a circle under her jaw. Then slowly, he pulled away. “We have to stop,” he said, looking into her eyes. “If we don’t ...” He swallowed and she watched his throat work. She hadn’t gotten to kiss him there, yet. Dipping her chin, she leaned forward, but he pulled away. He gave her a sheepish smile. “I think we sealed the deal, don’t you?
An Excerpt from
THE GOVERNESS CLUB:LOUISA
by Ellie Macdonald
Louisa Brockhurst is on the run—from her friends, from her family, even from her dream of independence through the Governess Club. Handsome but menacing John Taylor is a prizefighter-turned-innkeeper who is trying to make his way in society. When Louisa shows up at his doorstep, he’s quick to accept her offer to help—at a price. Their attraction grows, but will headstrong, fiery Louisa ever trust the surprisingly kind John enough to tell him the dangerous secrets from her past that keep her running?
Her eyes followed his movements as he straightened. Good Lord, but the moniker “Giant Johnny” was highly appropriate. The man was a mountain. A fleeting thought crossed her mind about what it would be like to have those large arms encompass her.
He spied her packed portmanteau and looked at her questioningly. “You are moving on? I thought your plans were unconfirmed.”
Louisa lifted her chin. “They are. But that does not mean I must stay here in order to solidify them.”
He put his thick hands on his hips, doubling his width. “But it also means that you do not have to leave in order to do so.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he stayed her with his hand. “I understand what it is like to be adrift. If you wish, you can remain here. It is clear that I need help, a woman’s help.” He gestured to the room. “I have little notion and less inclination for cleaning. I need someone to take charge in this area. Will you do it?”
Louisa stared at him.Help him by being a maid? In an inn?Of all the things she had considered doing, working in such a place had never crossed her mind. She was not suited for such work. A governess, a companion, yes—but a maid? What would her mother have said about this? Or any of her family?
She pressed her lips together. It had been six years since she’d allowed her family to influence her, and this job would at least keep her protected from the elements. She would be able to protect herself from the more unruly patrons, she was certain. It would be hard-earned coin, to be sure, but the current condition of her moneybag would not object to whichever manner she earned more. It would indeed present the biggest challenge she had yet faced, but how hard could it be?
“What say you, Mrs. Brock?”
His voice drew her out of her thoughts. Regarding him carefully, Louisa knew better than just to accept his offer. “What sorts of benefits could I expect?”
“Proper wage, meals, and a room.” His answer was quick.
“How many meals?”
“How many does the average person eat?” he countered. “Three by my count.”
Would her stomach survive three meals of such fare? She nodded. “This room? Or a smaller one in the attic?” She had slept in her fair share of small rooms as a governess; she would fight for the biggest one she could get.
“This one is fine. This is not a busy inn, so it can be spared.” He rubbed his bald head. “My room is behind the office, so you will never be alone on the premises.”
Hm. “I see. Free days?” Not that she expected to need them. She knew no one in the area and had no plans to inform her friends—herformerfriends—of where she was.
“Once a fortnight.”
“And my duties?”
“Cleaning, of course. Helping out in the kitchen and pub when necessary.”
“Was last night a typical crowd?” she asked.
“Yes. Local men come here regularly. There are not many places a man in this area can go.”
“And the women? I am curious.”
He shrugged his boulder shoulders. “None have yet come in here. I don’t cater to their tastes.”
Louisa sniffed and glanced around the room. The condition truly was atrocious. If the other rooms were like this, it would take days of hard work to get them up to scratch. It would be an accomplishment to be proud of, if she succeeded.
