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“Verity,” he groaned. “The scandal of the season just happened. The news will be over town like wildfire. The best place for you to be—”
Her heart leaped. “James.”
They stared at each other in a tense silence that throbbed with perilous awareness. Nervously she moistened her lips. “I know what has been lost! My reputation…and the hopes I had for the season have vanished like ashes in the wind.”
She held out her hands which trembled, and a smile quivered on her lips even as tears filled her eyes. "But I also know what I have gained: my freedom, my pride, and my honor. I am going to drink at least two glasses of whisky, and I shall not give a damn! Then I shall head home." A blush heated her cheeks at the profanity, and she glanced away from his unflinching regard.
James knocked on the roof twice and the coachman replied, “Yes, milord?”
“Head to my townhouse.”
“Yes, milord.” The carriage rumbled with speed as if the coachman had sensed the dreadful tension and urgency from inside. Once they reached his townhouse, he helped her down from the coach, and they walked up to the front door. He fished keys from his pockets and opened the door. The house was dark, and it was evident the butler had not waited up for him. They made their way to the library, where a little fire burned in the hearth, casting the room in more shadows than anything else.
He went to the sideboard and poured himself a drink. “Would you like a drink? The options are whisky, port, sherry.” There was a dangerous edge to his tone.
She locked the door with a snick. A thick, heavy silence blanketed the library. Verity needed his kisses and soothing touch to calm the wild, primal urges throbbing through her. Steadying her erratic pulse was impossible. "When I first thought about approaching you for lessons, I was so nervous. Your reputation about town is one of such wickedness, James."
He glanced at her, before swallowing the contents of his glass in one gulp. The look in his eyes did something to her. The blatant heat and admiration caused her belly to tighten. “I’ve only ever seen the sweet gentleman.”
His eyes lit with tender amusement. “Sweet?”
She sauntered over to him, lifted a finger, and stroked along his chiseled jawline. His hand darted out, snaked around her waist, and pulled her roughly, almost violently against his body. She inhaled sharply at the contact, tipped on to her toes, and kissed him, swallowing his grunt of surprise.
The empty glass dropped onto the thick carpet with a thud.
She kissed him, curling her tongue over his, tasting and consuming him, before pulling away to say, “Oh, yes, so very sweet.”
The fingers around her waist tightened even more. “Tonight I want that wicked seducer that is whispered about," she breathed against his lips. "I never want to close my eyes again and remember another body atop mine. It must only be you.”
“And in the morning?” he asked gruffly, gripping her chin, and staring into her face.
His touch was almost unbearable in its tenderness, and her heart knocked painfully inside her chest. “And in the morning…”
They stared at each other. He released her chin and thrust his fingers into her tangled hair. The hold was firm, domineering, and possessive.
“And in the morning, what will we be, Verity?” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear.
“And in the morning, we shall still be friends,” she said hoarsely, tears pricking behind her eyelids. And Verity sensed it was a lie. Everything was different. Something had changed, but she couldn’t identify what. And she could not imagine their path forward with the scandal that now surrounded her name.
Tears escaped and rolled down her cheeks. His thumb brushed away the evidence, and he stared at her with such desperate need she trembled. “Do you have any idea how much I've wanted you?” His uneven tone scraped against her senses with its rich sensuality.
“Then show me,” she whispered achingly.
“Verity,” James said, pressing a kiss of violent tenderness against her forehead. “I am weak…weak for you.” The admission echoed like a curse. He brushed soft kisses on the tip of her nose, then her eyes, then briefly over her trembling lips. “I’ll not be able to resist you, so for God’s sake, please—”
She caught the rest of his words with her mouth and poured all the raw emotions pounding through her into the kiss. He responded, he took over, and he kissed her with ravishing expertise until she trembled in his embrace. His tongue slowly stroked hers, and she gave herself over to the hot, languid sensations building within her. She hadn't known…dear God, she hadn't known pleasure like this existed, not from a kiss. Verity became lost entirely in the taste, the scent, and the feel of him.
His large hands cupped her cheeks, their mouths barely separated , and they breathed raggedly.
“This is adrenaline coursing through you. The hunger thrumming through you, the primal need always happens after a fight. It will pass, Verity.” His tone was rough with an erotic warning as his hands tightened on her hips.
“What I feel for you, James will never pass. You torment my dreams. You enter a room, and my heart beats, and even long after I have left your presence, there is a smile, a happiness in my soul I cannot explain, only want to bask in. You make me feel, James. I feel bound by touch.” She kissed the corner of his mouth, and down to his collarbone.
A harsh groan vibrated from his chest. Aroused shock almost felled her when he tugged at the buttons of her trousers and delved deep inside to her wet slit. She shifted, breathing deeply, certain she would collapse at his feet. Verity fisted his shirt and jerked to the tip of her toes when he pushed a finger inside of her. There was a tight pinch, a feeling of being stretched, and…and vibrant sensations of lust.
“I’ll not fit,” he said with such harsh sensuality a shiver tore through her.
She bit his lower lip and then sucked gently to soothe the skin. Verity wasn't altogether sure to what he referred to, but she said, “You’ll make it fit.”
