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But Amy had been a genuine fan of the band—she’d bought Sweet and Sticky, which had been The Lollipops’ first album. She’d even been to one of their concerts—the one where Justina had famously been wearing the sequined hot pants. Her genuine liking of the band’s music had made Roxy feel a rare pang of nostalgia for her crazy days on tour with the group.
Amy gave the chiffon scarf a final twist and pointed at the dresser. ‘What’s that?’
‘What?’ questioned Roxy, still feeling slightly dazed by Titus’s provocative visit.
‘This!’ Amy picked up the bottle of wine and glanced down at the label. ‘Chateau Margaux,’ she read, before looking up to give Roxy a questioning look. ‘Now, I’m no wine buff but even I know that this isn’t your average plonk. Where did you get it?’
‘I …’ Roxy sucked in a deep breath. ‘Titus gave it to me.’
‘Titus?’
‘Um, I mean—the Duke.’
Amy’s brows did another swift elevation. ‘The Duke gave you a bottle of expensive wine?’
Roxy nodded. ‘Yes, he did. Because … because I managed to catch one of his expensive Georgian glasses before it tumbled to the ground. Did you realise that those glasses cost over six hundred quid?’
‘No, I didn’t,’ said Amy slowly.
‘So I did him a big favour, really. Saved him a lot of money.’ Roxy flashed a smile as she consoled herself with the thought that it was the truth—or at least a variation of the truth. No need to tell her housemate that the glass wouldn’t have been in danger if the Duke himself hadn’t walked into the room and made her fingers tremble so much that she’d almost dropped it. ‘Gotta run,’ she breathed. ‘Mustn’t let my bath overflow!’
Roxy ran back upstairs to the tiny bathroom just in time to stop water from slopping over the sides, and she had to let the plug out for a minute before she risked getting in. Her bath was rapid rather than relaxing and afterwards she pulled on a long, crushed velvet skirt and teamed it with a beautiful cashmere sweater she’d had for ages, but which she hardly ever wore because she wanted to preserve it. She brushed her hair and applied lip-gloss and perfume—but it wasn’t until she heard Amy leaving that she risked going downstairs and she flinched as she caught sight of herself in the hall mirror.
She looked …
She swallowed.
She couldn’t ever remember looking quite so shiny before. Her eyes were glittering wildly and her lips glimmered with their shimmering of gloss. Her dark-blonde hair hung in a silky-satin curtain over her shoulders and the combination of cashmere and velvet made her look … expensive. As if she’d made an effort. Well, she had made an effort.
But the realisation of how much was riding on this made her hesitate as she wondered if she was in danger of becoming some kind of laughing stock. She had spruced herself up for the Duke after that shocking demonstration of how quickly he could turn her on. She was making it very clear that she was a very willing participant in all this—and surely that was the wrong message to send out, particularly to a man like him. Yet it didn’t seem that she had an alternative, not when she wanted him so badly.
The minute hand on the clock ticked by so slowly and she started wondering if perhaps the battery was running out. She resisted the urge to go and peep from behind the curtains but by ten past seven, she was climbing the walls with frustration and embarrassment.
He wasn’t coming.
It was the worst case of all scenarios.
He had decided that this was a big mistake and best forgotten.
So how on earth would she face him next time she saw him?
But just after she’d pulled the cork on the wine, having decided to drink at least half the contents of the bottle as some kind of miserable compensation, there was a loud banging on the door.
And all thoughts of what she should or shouldn’t say were forgotten as she opened the door and fell into his arms.
His kiss was heated and urgent, his embrace hard and possessive. Roxy made a distracted little sound as Titus moved away from her, shutting the door on the snowy night. And then he came back and tangled his fingers in her hair, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at her eager face for a moment before asking coolly, ‘I’m assuming she’s gone?’
Roxy nodded.
He pushed her up against the wall and then pressed his body up against hers in a very deliberate display of masculine mastery. She could feel the proud jut of his hips and the steely shaft of his erection as it nudged against her and she drew in a deep breath of excitement mingled with a stupid kind of nervousness.
‘Do you know how slowly these last two hours have passed?’ he questioned unsteadily as he pulled her sweater out from the waistband of her velvet skirt.
‘I th-think I have a good idea,’ she breathed.
His fingers were brushing against her bare skin and he was murmuring little sounds of appreciation into her ear and instantly Roxy felt the melting response of her hungry body. And suddenly she was afraid it was all going to happen too quickly, the way it had done before. That it would be the perfunctory pursuit of pleasure and then he might leave—and she wouldn’t get a chance to savour this magnificent man. Perhaps he read her thoughts—or maybe it suited her to think that—because he lifted his head and his grey eyes narrowed in question.
‘Are you going to take me upstairs?’ he whispered, his finger finding her belly button and kneading at it with erotic thoroughness. ‘Or are you angling to have me do it to you right here, up against the wall?’
