He could. God help her, he could. “N-no. This is wrong.”
He cursed and tore his hand away from her cheek. Only a few long strides took him out of the room.
But he remained. She could see impressions of him everywhere—by the fire singing, across the table playing chess poorly, in the window seat kissing her.
She touched her lips—sensitive and swollen, just as she was between her legs. Oh, she buzzed with unfulfilledneed.
That cursed snore!
No, that blessed snore. Without it, she had no idea how far she’d have gone. WithRemmy. She fled to her bedchamber, but she could not tell if it was to cry or to finish the work her friend had started and ease the ache between her legs. Too bad it would not ease the new ache within her heart.
Chapter Seven
Remmy woke with a moan and the need to take his cock in hand. A few strokes, and the moan became a curse as he spilled his seed all over the rumpled bed. Ignoring the mess, he laid, eyes closed, on the mattress, unwilling to give up quite yet the image that had woken him.
Tessa.Not even naked. Primly garbed and teasing him with kisses. In the dream, he’d dropped to his knees before her and kissed her where he’d touched her last night. In that dreamlike way, the creamy expanse of her thighs had been shadowy, and the taste of her cunny vague. He’d known the impression of intense pleasure—enough to wake him with a cockstand of epic magnitude—but not the reality.
“‘In that sleep what dreams may come,’” he mumbled, slinging his legs over the side of the bed, “will bloody well kill me.” What a mess. All of it. He rested his elbows on his bent knees and scratched his fingernails through his hair. What was he doing? He’dtouchedTessa last night, kissed her, let her ride his leg to seek her pleasure.
He’d sell his soul to watch her shatter.
He should have known as soon as he’d seen her at the Folly. He’d run from his heart, hidden it deep, but it was still there, thumping for Tessa.
He’d gone mad, hadn’t he. He should leave. He’d seen his father, said happy birthday, shown the entire house party howmuch of a rogue he was, set every tongue wagging. Time to return to London and see if the Belle’s column had done good work yet. No telling what he’d do if he stayed. Ruin her entirely. Tell her he lo?—
No. He’d never do that again. One moment of humiliation was enough.
But retreat also wasn’t an option. This was his home, his family, and his pool of potential patrons.
By the time he was dressed and descending the stairs, the fever heat of his Tessa dream had receded a bit. He’d likely live with the memory of it hot and alive in his veins till the day he died, but he could cut through it enough to consider next steps.
A scene. He needed a scene. But what sort? Should it involve nudity? It would fit what the Belle had written about him and might grab Tessa’s attention. Would she blush to see him without a shirt? A pretty rush of pink over her lovely cheeks?
“Remmy! Remmy, wait!” A small body crashed into him from behind, and he turned towhooshhis younger sister Aria into the air. At thirteen years of age, she was certainly light enough to do so with little trouble, but she scowled and swatted his shoulder. “Do put me down. I’m too old for that, Remmy.”
He set her on her delicate little slippers and ruffled her dark hair. “Of course you are. Do forgive me, my lady.”
She grabbed his hand and tugged him away from the door. “I need your help. Only you can do it.”
“Do what?”
“There’s a young woman crying in the music room because of a man. I saw the whole thing. He was nasty to her.”
“How did you see the whole thing?”
“I cannot help it if people do not see me. I was trying to find a piece to play on thepianoforte when they stormed in. I hid. It would have been awkward for them if they knew I’d overheard the argument.”
“And how do you think I can help this crying lady?”
“By playing Romeo.”
“Playing… Romeo?”
They stopped outside the music room, and behind the closed door, he could hear the soft sobs of distress.
“Yes,” Aria whispered, “do that charming thing you do that makes ladies melt and feel good about themselves.”
“I do not do that.”
