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“I returned home only today and came straight here.”
Romy gave him her back and stacked the remaining sketches strewn across the table. “Well, you can return home. There is no need for you be here unless it is to watch me do unsuitable things.”
“What if I chose to do those unsuitable things with you?”
She squeaked at the touch of his tongue against the curve of her ear. “There are things I must say, Romy.”
“My position has not changed, Your Grace. If you cannot accept all of me—” She took a shaky breath as the warmth of his chest pressed into her back.
“I can have none of you. Yes, I remember quite well.”
“Then you must also recall I come with a variety of drawbacks, as you call them. Things which may offend your tender sensibilities. You’ve deemed me unacceptable.”
Two big hands landed on either side of her, trapping Romy against the table. Blood pumped through her body, her heart beating wildly. A coil of arousal twisted low inside her with an insistent ache, begging for attention, a common occurrence with Granby in the vicinity. If so much as one wicked thing came from his beautiful mouth, Romy would be lost.
“Terribly unsuitable.” Granby pressed against her, the hard length of him rubbing sinuously against her backside. “I’ve stayed away from you as long as I could. Time enough to allow your anger toward me to mellow.” One of his hands disappeared as he nibbled at the back of her neck. “I was working on my own imperfections, as it happens.”
“I see.” She gasped at the feel of his hand running up the back of her legs, even as the other settled on her waist before sliding up the front of her dress. The dress she wore was one of her oldest. She’d been in a rush to get to Madame Dupree’s this morning and had chosen the dress because it required no corset and only a petticoat or two.
“What are you doing?” Her voice raised an octave as Granby’s finger slid between the crack of her buttocks before cupping her with his hand. His fingers tugged lightly at the soft hair of her mound, sliding back and forth.
“Examiningyourimperfections.” A finger pressed into her heat, circling and teasing at her flesh. “All this wetness is for me. I knew I was missed.”
Romy’s hands trembled against the table. “You should leave. You may call on me later.”
“And run the risk you will not receive me?”
Her forehead pressed against the table as she struggled to retain some dignity, but all Romy could do was shamefully push her hips back against him. His fingers moved purposefully over her flesh as a small moan left her.
“I would.” She gasped as his forefinger flicked gently against a sensitive spot. “Receive you.”
“Can’t take the chance. You seem averse to talking, or at the least, allowingmeto speak.” He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck. “I’m hopeful I can persuade you to listen.” His teeth grazed her upper back, nipping at her skin through the worn calico she wore. “I think perhaps I will take all of you.” He pulled Romy’s hips up, exposing her more fully. “Every tiny”—his finger teased against the small, painfully engorged bit of flesh hiding within her folds—“bit of you, Romy.”
Gasping for breath, she whimpered at the torture he inflicted, dizzy from the way her body molded to his and the pleasure scorching her veins.
“Madame—” She tried to retain some semblance of control. Granby’s large body covered hers, his fingers caressing her flesh, pausing only to thrust one digit inside her before retreating again.
This was not how she’d expected her morning to proceed.
“Madame Dupree has been paid an enormous sum to ensure we are not disturbed. And by the way, she is no more French than I am.” The cooler air of the room slid across her buttocks and the back of her legs as Granby lifted her skirts up to her waist. There was a rustle of clothing and then the hot thickness of him pressed into the back of her thigh.
One hand gently reached to the back of her scalp, turning her head so Granby could press a tender kiss on her lips before carefully forcing her head down, so she lay against the table.
“What I’ve figured out, Andromeda, while I was gone working on myownimperfections, is that I am not good at expressing myself with words.” His fingers stroked and teased, sending a bolt of sensation down the lower half of her body.
“Please,” she whispered against the table, nearly mindless with pleasure. Every caress of his fingers sent her closer to her release. She could feel it tightening inside of her.
“Are you listening, Romy?”
“Yes.” She slapped at the table with an open palm. “Your Grace.”
“I finally have your attention. Good. Now, we can blame Horace for forcing me to be the cold bastard I am, but the fact remains...” His fingers continued to press and retreat until she wanted to weep.
“I will takeallof you, Andromeda Barrington.”
“All of me?” She was panting, her flesh swollen and painful, her nipples so peaked they might scratch the old wood of the table beneath her.
“Yes. Haven’t you been listening? Every luscious bit I find—” His voice grew raspy. “I cannot be without you, Andromeda.” He thrust into her, pushing Romy across the table with a low groan. His hands took hold of her hips, lifting her so that her feet didn’t touch the floor.
