“Tessa,” he bit out. “Tell. Me.”
For her options to be more than vicar’s wife or widow’s companion.
Her silence brought him a step closer to her, and she had to crane her head back or look at his large, lovely chest. Looking up didn’t help much because there was his strong jaw, his kissable lips. But all of it immovable now, just like him.
“Tessa King,” he growled, “tell me what you want.”
“For you to touch me!” She rocked back on her heels with a gasp. Oh God, where had that come from? She spun around, needing distance from him. But he followed her deeper into the room.
“What do you mean?” His words were soft yet rough, and she shivered.
She’d not known what she meant when she spoke. The desire had clawed its way onto her tongue of its own accord and leapt into the air. She could not take it back now because spoken words were forever, but also because… she meant it. A shock, that.
She chose each word carefully. “It is only… I have never known a man as I have come to know you since my return, and we have not even… touched in all the ways there are to do so. And I think that… if I choose to become a companion again, I mayneverknow that sort of touch. And so… if I choose to become a companion, I should like...” She licked her lips. No retreating now. “I should like to know a man in that way. And I should like that man… to be you.”
“Why me?” he said quietly.
She raised a shoulder, dropped it, searching for more careful words, more truthful ones. “I am comfortable with you. And you are experienced in that sort of thing. Being a rake, I mean. So my experience… with you… would be… optimal.” She peeked over her shoulder at him.
He worked his jaw side to side, his gaze far, far away from this room. “Optimal.”
“Yes.”
Slowly, he turned on his toe and made for the door, seeming to make each step as carefully as she’d chosen each word. At the door, he looked over his shoulder, just a little, enough for her to see his profile, still hiding whatever he was feeling. “If you decide to be a companion again, let me know. See how easy that is, to say what you want?” One long stride took him out of her sight.
She closed the door then collapsed breathless onto the bed.
He would do it. He would sleep with her, ruin her, if she asked him to. She could have one night or one week of lustful bliss beneath his hands and lips. That should be a clear tic in the column for companion.
But it left her feeling a little bit empty and full of longing instead.
Chapter Eleven
Iwant you to touch me.
He’d been tempted to tackle Tessa onto the bed after that. Thank God he hadn’t because it was more of the same. She didn’t wanthim. She wanted his comfort, his friendship, his cock. Frankly, his cock was elated with the suggestion. It was his heart that objected. Vehemently.
He needed a drink.
“Remington Ives,” Kit drawled, popping out of the family sitting room at the end of the hallway.
“Yes?” Remmy tried to pass him, but Kit caught his arm and steered him into the room. Daphne was inside, sans baby but with a suspicious wet spot on her sleeve. His older twin brothers—Horace and Frederick—were present, as well, looking absolutely identical and identically malevolent. There had always been more devil in their good looks than charm.
Kit sat Remmy in a chair, and they surrounded him.
“Good to see the lot of you,” Remmy said. “How long’s it been? Six months, yes? Since Christmas? How’s Manchester, Horace? And the navy, Freddy? You’re looking quite roguishly weathered.”
“Do stop rambling, Remmy,” Daphne said, “I have no more than a quarter hour until a child requests my presence on pain of death for anyone who does not produce me forthwith. We do not have time for chatter.”
Remmy sank lower in his chair. “Then tell me why I’ve been abducted.”
“We saw you coming out of Tessa’s room,” Kit drawled.
“You mean Nora’s room.”
“That is not currently who’s inhabiting it”—Daphne kicked his foot—“and you know it.”
“Of course he knows it.” Horace gave a dark chuckle. “He always knows where Tessy is.”
