“I saw you dancing with the Hasting girl tonight,” Max cut in, sparing Wesley from whatever crude suggestion Louis had been about to make.
Wesley's jaw tightened.His friends had always suspected that he had a thing for Thea, and again, they were right, which was bloody annoying.“And?”
“Just put your ring on her finger already.”Max's gaze was steady.
“You’re mad.We've known each other for a long time.We’re just friends.”
Louis snorted.“You're a terrible liar.Always have been.”
“I'm not lying.”
“You're not telling the truth, either.”Louis ticked off points on his fingers.“You've known her for years.She's clever, she's beautiful, and she doesn't simper at you like every other woman in London.Her mother's parading her in front of Harrington, of all people, and you looked ready to put your fist through a wall every time she spoke to another man.”
“I did not—”
Max's mouth twitched.“You slammed a glass down so hard it broke.”
Wesley looked away, heat creeping up the back of his neck.He’d hoped they hadn’t seen that.
The truth sat heavy in his chest, the same truth he'd been carrying for years.He'd always wanted Thea.He had imagined courting her in her first Season, marrying her, and building a life with her.Then the title had landed on his shoulders and he'd barely been able to keep his head above water, let alone pursue a wife.
And while he loved Thea, she had always been wild and carefree.She wasn’t the woman one could expect to fulfill the role of a duchess.At least that was his mother’s strong opinion.By the time he’d come to his senses and pushed his mother’s voice out of his head, Thea had been surrounded by other men and then engaged to William.
She deserved happiness and to be with the man she wanted, even if it wasn’t him.He watched her engagement from a distance, pretending it didn't gut him.
Then William died.Wesley waited for her mourning to end, but she gave no indication of interest in marriage at all.If she loved William and had lost him, she may never get over that.Wesley would always just be her friend and nothing more.She could never love him.
So Wesley would keep standing on the edges of ballrooms, watching her laugh with other men, wanting something he'd never figured out how to reach for.
The carriage stopped outside Wesley's townhouse.He climbed out before either of them could say anything else.
“Think about it,” Max called after him.“That's all I'm saying.”
Wesley raised a hand in acknowledgment and went inside.
His study was dark, the fire burned down to embers.He poured himself a drink and stood at the window, looking out at the empty street.
He could still feel her hand on his shoulder.The warmth of her waist beneath his palm.The way she'd looked up at him with her wide blue eyes.
Wesley set down his glass and climbed the stairs to his chamber.He didn’t ring for his valet.
He stripped off his coats and cravat, and then sat on the edge of the bed and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes.
She'd felt so good in his arms.He'd wanted to tell her everything he’d ever felt for her.God, he'd wanted to pull her against him and show her exactly what he thought about Harrington, about her mother's schemes, about all the men who weren't him.
His body was still wound tight from the memory.
He knew what he needed.The same thing he'd needed too many nights to count, alone in this room, thinking about a woman he couldn't have.
Wesley unfastened his breeches and took himself in hand.He hadn’t been with a woman in a couple years, not since Thea had gone and got herself betrothed.He had tried to ease the pain in every way he could think of.None of it worked.And since then, his hand was the only place he found temporary relief from the ache of longing for her.
Her body moving against his would feel like heaven.He had imagined night after night what it would be like to have her there, beneath him.Her sharp tongue only capable of moans when he touched her.Her back arching into him as he finally discovered what it was like to be inside the one woman he’d ever loved.
His breath came faster.He stroked himself with a grip just shy of too rough, chasing release the way he couldn't chase her.
When he finished, it was her name on his lips.
He cleaned himself off and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.The wanting hadn't gone anywhere.It never did.But at least now, when he saw her at the next ball, he wouldn’t back her against a wall and do something he wouldn’t be able to take back.
