Page 91 of A Lady’s Guide to Subterfuge and Science

“Then I have another question for you.” He nuzzled her neck and pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin by her jaw. “Do you want to be sensible?”

“I think I’m tired of being sensible, actually.”

“Good,” he murmured against her skin. “What non-sensible thing would you like to do?”

“I want to make love now,” she said, heat blooming crimson across her cheeks, “and have a conversation later.”

“A clever decision,” he said, voice hoarse. “I expected nothing less.”

*

When Oliver had agreed to Kalila’s terms, he’d promised to keep any change of heart to himself. But as he’d watched her light up with fire and passion, there was nothing he could do to stop himself from declaring his true feelings.

Well, not quite his true feelings. He had softened them but only because he feared coming on too strong for her tastes.

If he could not tell her in this moment—and he highly doubted he could’ve kept it to himself for much longer—he could at least show her. Oliver slowly, gently peeled her shirt off her body, his hands finally making direct contact with the heated skin beneath. She sighed, still hovering above him as she loosened his cravat and pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin it had been protecting. They both moved without any urgency, as if they had all the time in the world.

“Should we move to the bed?” he asked in a strangled whisper as her hips pushed against his erection. He was quite content to take her where they were but thought asking was the gentlemanly thing to do.

“No,” she responded, placing her hands on the buttons of his waistcoat. Before he could get a word in, she had relieved him of both waistcoat and shirt, pressing her bare breasts to his chest as she leaned in for a heated kiss.

“Are you sure?” he asked, slightly taken aback by the assertiveness of her actions.

Well, perhaps slightly taken aback wasn’t the correct phrase. Wildly aroused was far more accurate, given how his cock strained against his trousers, desperate for attention.

“It’s too small,” she explained, “and really rather rickety.”

He smirked. “Are you afraid we’d break it?”

“Yes.” She placed her hands on either of his shoulders and gave him a soft push so that he lay flat on his back. “And I’ve experienced enough embarrassment in London to last me a lifetime.”

Beneath him, Oliver could feel the papers she’d used to explain her genius to him. God, she was clever. He could never dream of such cleverness.

Kalila stood to tug off her trousers in one abrupt motion. Oliver propped himself up on his elbows to watch, taking in the sight of her long legs and, of course, the gorgeous, promising juncture between her thighs.

She bent, tugging his boots off. Quickly, he helped her do away with his trousers, the removal of which left the both of them finally undressed. Kalila straddled him once more, shuddering in silence as her wet folds came into contact with his hard cock. Unable to withstand the lack of control, Oliver expertly flipped her onto her back, positioning himself between her legs. He caught sight of her then, gorgeous curls spread out in a halo around her head, flushed body surrounded by her own clever work. The very air he breathed was knocked out of him.

“Christ, Kalila,” he murmured, “you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

She did not respond, choosing instead to reach between their bodies to guide his length into her delicious heat. Oliver entered her with care, watching as her breaths became short and her pupils dilated. Kalila, as always, was quiet—making it his job to pay close attention to her every sigh to ensure that he was giving her everything she needed.

He moved in measured, luscious strokes, desperate to inject tenderness into every thrust. She arched beneath him, her fingers raking down his back.

“You feel so damned good,” he rasped. He fancied himself quite her opposite, unable to remain silent.

“So do you,” she whispered, the words leaving her lips on a soft, barely detectable moan.

Oliver raised his eyebrows in surprise, but his wry response was lost to him as Kalila exerted a surprising amount of strength to switch their positions. Oliver let out a soft oof as his back made contact with the scattered papers. Kalila sat astride him, sinking onto his length, a long sigh leaving her petal soft lips.

“Good God,” Oliver groaned, running his hands up her body and brushing the pads of his thumbs against her pebbled nipples. Above him, Kalila chased her pleasure, her hips moving in an erratic rhythm. He could feel her clenching around him, so he rubbed firmly at her slick bud to help her along. She gasped, leaning into the pressure. “Come for me,” he coaxed, wanting—needing—her to be the first to unravel.

After a few moments, her breathing hitched and she fell apart above him. She let out a little cry, the noise betraying the force of her orgasm. Her muscles pulsed around him, pushing him over the edge, and he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from vocalizing the words that were floating through his head.

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Kalila slumped forward, palms pressed to his shoulders, her breath still coming in short. “I’m sorry.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Whatever for?”