Only, he’d fallen asleep, utterly sated after the most enthralling slice of intimacy served to him in this lifetime, then roused a short time later to find Alex’s mouth tracking down his chest, over his belly, headed to his awakening cock.
Any argument, weak anyway, perished on his lips, succumbing to an immediate death.
He’d let her explore for as long as he could before he’d taken over, gliding oh-so-gradually inside her, their gazes locked, an experience turning fantasy into reality. An experience he’d not shared with anyone else.
Which scared the shite out of him.
Propping his cheek on his fist, he sighed out his unease. The chamber smelled of them, each contributing to create something new, a mix he worried might never leave him. That he’d crave like an addict would opium. Trailing his fingertip across her flushed cheek, he hoped she would wake—and that she wouldn’t. Because what could he say?
I’m still in love with you?
A boy’s dream is now a man’s?
Both sounded ridiculous. Baring his soul in this way, even if his idiocy had occurred when he was a lad, seemed the worst sort of exposure. He didn’t want to be ruined by her.
He wanted to, respectfully and with consent, ruin the chits in his life—but that had never been the way with her. So, while lingering in the comfort of Viscountess Amberly’s silken sheets, he acknowledged that this could be the beginning of the end.
Groaning, Cort laid back, tossing his arm over his eyes.
The lady spelled disaster for him, and she always had.
Her teasing laughter rang through the room, having the same effect as her tongue skimming along the underside of his shaft. Delight. Wicked, undeniable delight.
Lifting his arm, he peeked out to find her stunning lavender gaze fixed on him. She smiled and rolled to her side, propping her cheek on her fist as he’d done moments ago. Her hair was a catastrophe, lying in a tangle on her slim shoulders. The sheet was covering her, but not enough. Not enough at all. “From the scowl, I take it morning is not your favored time of the day.”
He mirrored her posture but didn’t touch her. He wasn’t going there again and lose his wits. “I love mornings, in fact.”
“Ah,” she murmured and flashed that naughty grin, “it’s this morning that’s vexing you.”
He smiled because he couldn’t not. This woman turned him upside-down, much against his will. “Is this your idea of friendly discussion after the fact, Mountbatten?”
She walked her fingers across the distance, skating the rough edge of her nail over his forearm. A horsewoman’s hands, his girl. His response was immediate, a fiery footrace landing in areas he’d hoped were calming. “Is it yours, DeWitt?”
He captured her hand before she could do more damage, then insanely, placed a tender kiss on the underside of her wrist. “Oh, no, I’m remarkably skilled at this sort of thing. I’m off-kilter today for some reason.”
A crease split her brow as a spark of temper entered her eyes. “Yes, I’ve heard.”
“If you’d taken me up on that kiss years ago, sad as it was, perhaps I wouldn’t have felt the need to sample the market in search of consolation.”
Alexandra huffed in irritation and tried to wrench free.
Cort laughed, pleased to his bones. More so when her consternation grew. Let her stew for once. He shrugged, this time placing a kiss on her knuckles. “I can’t help what they say about me, although some of it’s true. But not all. Anyway, it’s Knox they’re concerned about. Second sons gain little favor. Poor Damien is another step down.”
“Is that why you risked your life at Waterloo? Because you felt yours held less value?”
He dropped her hand, invisible walls rising around him. He wasn’t interested in discussing this. “My father never made me feel that way. My family.”
“Then why? Why do it?”
With a sigh, he rolled to his back, away from her penetrating gaze. “Because I had to make my own way. I couldn’t live, not in Knox’s shadow, but the title’s shadow. Waiting for life to find me. Rather, I wanted to find it.” When he could see he hadn’t shared enough, he gave her a bit more, the least he could say and not get the shakes. Or a headache that would take days to retreat. “I was a part of the King’s Dragoon Guards. We had notable casualties from a surprise attack. It was challenging when I returned, pretending to be normal. But I’m better. Time is helping, as they say it does. Work is helping.”
You’re helping, he thought, though he couldn’t admit it. Not first, not this time.
“The steam engine.”
He turned his head, catching her gaze. “I have a talent for mechanical devices. Always have, always will. I want to know how things work, and I retain the patience to figure it out. Fortunately, mathematics is like poetry to me, my comfort with it rare. I tutored students at Cambridge or completed their work outright for a modest fee. Half the earls and viscounts in London owe me for getting them through advanced geometry. Steam travel is upon us, and I intend to make a fortune assisting England in the journey. It’s not the blunt, either. I’m compelled in a way that made the decision for me.”
“I’ve never been interested in anything but horses. Which makes me a female oddity, I realize.” She pleated the sheet between her fingers, her lips pursing in thought. “You sound ambitious.”
