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“You are to marry Beatrice,” she whispered, biting her lip as the tip of his finger slid across her bare skin.
“Does that matter to you, Romy?” His head dipped to nuzzle her neck, his breath fanning across her skin.
“Marginally.”
Granby made a sound of amusement before nipping at the delicate skin of her neck. “What do you know of intimacies, Romy?”
Her nickname sounded like an endearment when it fell from his lips. She sensed Granby’s restraint was cracking. Peeling away to reveal the man he truly was beneath the ice he’d blanketed himself in for protection, probably from the very man who’d reared him in such strict fashion.
What would it be like if Granby let go? If all his restraint fled?
Wonderfully terrifying.
She wanted all of it. All ofhim. It might very well end in her ruination this evening.
“I know enough of intimacies.”
“Because you’ve experienced them?” His finger paused against her skin before he placed a kiss just below her ear. There was a possessive note in his question, even a hint of jealously.
“No, but my brother does own a gambling hell.”
His teeth nipped her skin. “Ah, yes.” He licked the spot he’d bitten, scorching her with the heat of his tongue. “But you know what happens there? At Elysium? The intimacies which take place?” The rough sound of his words threaded her body with pleasure.
“Yes. I mean, no. I’ve not been to Elysium when patrons are present.”
A half-truth. She and Theo had snuck in once, telling Peckam at the door they had a matter of urgency to discuss with Tony. He’d left them in Leo’s office to await her brother, but she and Theo had explored much of the second floor before Tony caught them.
A low growl came from Granby as he placed a large palm possessively on her stomach, gently nudging her until Romy’s back hit the wall. She was trapped, encapsulated in heated muscle and sinew. His fingers stretched across her stomach, sending flutters down between her thighs.
“You’re thinking of yesterday aren’t you? In the grass?” The big hand flexed.
“Yes.” Her voice trembled.
“Were I to find you at Elysium, I would take you into one of the private rooms.” He breathed against her neck. “You know what happens there, don’t you?”
“I do.” Romy knew the basics of lovemaking. Her mother had seen to that. But after touching the decadent fabrics covering the beds in the private rooms of Elysium and seeing the various items in the room, Romy knew her mother had only divulged some of what the act entailed.
“Mmm.” His tongue traced the outline of one ear.
Romy tried to take a deep breath and found she couldn’t. And it wasn’t because Daisy had laced her corset too tight. After visiting Elysium, her natural creativity had taken hold, and Romy had found herself picturing all sorts of things. Things she now envisioned Granby doing to her.
Granby’s hand, still holding the glass of scotch stretched above her head while the other wrapped around her waist, captured her against a firm wall of muscle. “A host of depravities are to be found at Elysium.” His gaze scorched her. “You should slap me for touching you as I am at the moment.”
“Would you find it easier if I did?” She placed a hand on his chest, right over his heart, positive that he must possess one. Even if he wasn’t aware of it.
“Will you kiss me, Andromeda?” There was a flash of vulnerability on his face as he asked.
Romy didn’t answer; instead, she slid her hands up the sculpted lines of his torso, feeling his muscles twitch beneath her fingertips and the heavy beating of his heart. She took her time, traveling over his chest before coming to his open collar; she stood on tiptoe and pressed her lips to the hollow of his throat.
A satisfied rumble came from him. “More.”
The dark hair lining his jaw chafed her palms as Romy cupped his face, her thumbs smoothing over the slash of his cheekbones.
Granby’s eyes fluttered shut, lashes falling across his cheeks like soot.
“You have a beautiful mouth,” she said in a bold whisper. “David.”
“Christ, you’ve no idea what you’re saying. What you’ll do to me.”
“I’m not the one who has been drinking scotch,” she gently reminded him.
“Do you think it is the scotch which asks for a kiss?” His lashes moved, but he didn’t open his eyes. “Rational thoughts desert me when you are near. I forget everything I am because I only wish to be that which Andromeda desires.” A shaky breath pulled from him. “Am I what you desire? Doyouwish me to marry Beatrice?”
Romy’s fingers slid into the silk of his hair, knowing his question had little to do with Beatrice. She brushed her lips gently against his, marveling at how soft his mouth felt beneath hers. There was no reason to lie to him about the truth of her heart.
“No, I don’t,” she whispered against his mouth.
