“Likedit? I couldn’t possibly be a more ardent supporter of that dress. They should erect monuments to the modiste who came up with that neckline. It was driving memad.” Alexander leaned in then and nipped lightly on her shoulder, making her squeal with delight, though the smile that lingered afterward was much more about his confession.
“So you had to ride out because …?” Harriet asked, laughing, as he bit and licked a path up her neck. “I just want to make sure Icompletelyunderstand.”
“Because I was worried for my poor prick if I didn’t, you little devil. You needn’t tease this out of me, I’ll happily detail precisely what I considered doing to you in that carriage that required me to leave.” Harriet gasped as he moved his hand back between her legs again and his mouth returned to her neck. With his mouth pressed just under her ear, he let out a groan of frustration and said in a near-whisper, “God, I wish I could fuck you.”
“You do?”
He laughed at her. “Harriet, of bloody course I do.”
Harriet remained still for a moment, thinking. And then, eyes trained up at the ceiling, she squeaked out, “You could …”
Alexander moved his lips up to hers and gathered her in his arms, kissing her desperately and hungrily. As if he were asking for something or perhaps atoning for something. He pulled back and smoothed a hand over her hair.
“I can’t now, but that is …” He kissed her forehead instead of finishing his sentence. “Besides, the first time for women is sometimes rather painful. I’m having too nice of a time here to do that.”
Something rather prickly sat in Harriet’s chest, and she wasn’t sure she liked the feeling. She couldn’t tell if she was sorry to not have had sex, or embarrassed to have offered and been turned down, or if the feeling was because of the care he was taking of her. Hisaffections weren’t hers alone, or hers forever, which made the moment rather bittersweet. “Youcan’t?”
“Men, we can’t … go … again right away. We need to, er, recover a bit.”
“But women can?”
“Yes. Quite unfair.”
“I do think women were owed at leastoneadvantage over men.”
“I can think of many, many advantages of women over men,” he teased, kissing his way across the top of one breast to the other.
“I meant onewecould enjoy ourselves.”
“Ohhh,” Alexander replied, pretending to have been enlightened by her.
“So … how many times can a woman … reach her peak?” Harriet asked, biting her lip. Alexander responded precisely how Harriet hoped he would.
“Shall we find out?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
HARRIET WOKE LATER THAN USUAL AND ALLOWED HERSELF TOluxuriate in bed for nearly a quarter of an hour, replaying the evening before. She felt wicked and delighted and exposed, as if the whole of the house knew what she’d done. The whole of London, even. A knock sounded on the door and Harriet still jumped at the sound. Her lady’s maid, Anne, slipped in and dropped a quick curtsy.
“Good morning, my lady. Lord Alexander is waiting for you in the breakfast room.”
“He is?” Harriet couldn’t help the besotted smile on her face. Anne must think her a twitterpated fool. And was she not?
Harriet tried not to rush to get ready, lest she seem even more pathetic than she already did. Her impatience couldn’t be helped. Harriet and Alexander didn’t ordinarily break their fasts together. They occasionally met over toast and eggs by chance, but they were not the sort of couple to moon at each other over rashers. If such a coupledidexist.
Suddenly, it occurred to Harriet—and she felt quite embarrassed that it hadn’t occurred to her sooner—that he might not be in precisely the same giddy mood she was from the events of last night.
Having female company was not novel to the man; he’d had plenty of mornings-after. Perhaps he was requesting her presence for something quotidian like her opinion on drapery, or to remind her to go over dinner menus with the housekeeper. Perhaps he wanted to get rid of her now that he’d had her, in a certain manner? She hadofferedfor him to fuck her, even if they hadn’t actually done that. Maybe he was summoning her to remind her that she shouldn’t fall for him after a simple tumble on the carpet?
Harriet shook her head. Trying to guess a man’s mind was like eating soup with a fork.
She finished dressing at a more regular speed, not having to temper herself artificially anymore, and then headed down to the breakfast room. Alexander was there, reading the paper, bathed in sunlight like God had chosen him specifically to bestow the gift of beauty upon. She rolled her eyes at her own inanity and headed to the spread of food, determined to appear unaffected. Placid. Normal. Calm. Perhaps thinking of more synonyms would help. Serene.
Undisturbed. Tranquil. Agitated. Inflamed.
Blast.
Alexander had read the same sentence thrice since she walked in. For good measure he began it a fourth time. His brain had become a nonce—useful only for noticingher. Or thinking of her. Or reminiscing about how she tasted. Or imagining how she might feelriding his cock. His mind was quite averse to any other avenue of thought. He did his utmost to remain composed upon her arrival, despite his heartfelt desire to jump from his seat and ravish her on the breakfast table. It had been ages since he’d fucked anyone on a table. He felt sure she’d be delighted by the novel proposal. She was so deliciously eager.
