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Rafe found the will to tear himself away long enough to walk over to the doorway and check the hall. It was empty. Templeton had toddled off to bed. And they were alone. He drew the door shut behind him and began unbuttoning the front of his pants as he stalked toward her. In one swift motion he hooked her legs around his waist, then found the slit in her drawers and buried his cock between her plump thighs. His forehead fell against the wall behind her as he gasped with relief.
Yes, this was certainly what possession felt like.
Chapter Seventeen
Sylvia clung to Rafe’s solid shoulders, already trembling on the edge of release. The angles created by this position were like taking a matchstick to dry kindling. As he began to slowly pump his hips, she quietly moaned against his neck. This was absolute madness, she knew, but the physical pull between them was too much to resist. She couldn’t even consider the sizable tug on her heartstrings that had reverberated through her when he offered to help.
“That good, eh?” he quipped though even he couldn’t entirely mask the ragged tones in his voice.
Sylvia squeezed her thighs, and he let out a very satisfying grunt. “Tolerable.”
After that, no more intelligible words were uttered until Rafe slipped his hand behind the crook of her knee and pressed it toward her chest. This only heightened the pulsing sensations inside her.
Sylvia tilted her head back. “OhGod,” she panted. When she lowered her eyes, he was looking at her with such raw intensity, such naked longing, that she nearly had to turn away again.
“The next time we make love, I’m doing it in the middle of the day, in a room filled with light,” he promised, his voice rough and urgent. “So I can watch your lips form every single cry you make. Every quiver from even the slightest of my touches. Every tensing muscle as you desperately seek more and more friction. I want to stare at you until I go sun blind.”
Next time.His brazen words burned through her, and all too quickly her entire body began to shudder toward her release. But as she moved to bury her face against his shoulder to muffle her cries, Rafe wrapped his other hand around her neck and took her mouth in a hard, all-consuming kiss, demanding everything from her. When he pulled away, she was still gasping with pleasure.
He stared back at her with wild eyes, his chest heaving from unspent desire. “Dammit, Sylvia,” Rafe bit off, wrenching himself from her. Sylvia managed to pull a handkerchief from her sleeve and watched in fascination as he groaned with relief. It was the only time when he seemed to let his guard down entirely. The only time when his mask truly fell.
Rafe began placing soft kisses against her cheek, her lips, her neck, while murmuring words of promise as he gently set her down. Sylvia closed her eyes and allowed herself to imagine for a moment what their future might look like, but nothing came.
“No,” she said briskly before pushing him away. “We don’t have time for this.”
Hurt flashed briefly across his face before he resumed control once again. “Of course.”
Rafe turned away to button his pants and then knelt before the door. He pulled something from the inside of his jacket and set about working on the lock.
Sylvia raised an eyebrow. “Do you always carry lock picks on you?”
He kept his gaze fixed on his task. “When I’m traveling, yes. I’ve found they come in remarkably handy from time to time.”
Sylvia tensed and swallowed the urge to pry deeper into exactly what kinds of situations he found himself in that necessitated lock picks.
After another minute the lock clicked, and Rafe flashed her a self-satisfied smile. “There. We’re in.”
Sylvia stepped away to make sure the hallway was still empty. When she returned, Rafe was already inside the study and had lit a desk lamp. The interior was decorated in dark colors and sumptuous fabrics, while the scent of leather and wood soap filled the air. There was a large stuffed pheasant on display behind the desk, and his beady black eyes seemed to be staring directly at her. Sylvia shuddered and Rafe cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him.
“Now will you tell me about the blackmail?”
“I received a letter before I came here instructing me to take an envelope from Mr. Wardale’s room.”
Rafe was silent for a long moment. “And if you didn’t?”
Sylvia swallowed and looked away. “They would reveal my past to the viscount.”
“You mean about Bernard.”
“Yes,” she said roughly. Among other things.
“What did you do with the envelope?”
She glanced up at his forbidding tone. “Nothing. A few days later a note was slipped under my door telling me where to deliver it.”
“In the woods.” She nodded. “Did you open it?”
“No. I was warned not to.”
