The Gentleman Who Loved Me (Heart of Enquiry Book 6)(44)
He rose, plucking up her chemise. “I’ll help you get dressed. You’ve been here too long already.”
“But don’t you want to…finish?” She wetted her lips, looking so disappointed that he was sorely tempted to do just that. “I don’t mind if you want to. That is, I came fully prepared to…”
“Lie with me?” he said mildly.
Her head bobbed, and damn if the little minx didn’t sneak a look at his groin. To be fair, that part of his anatomy did command attention. The bulge strained the placket of his trousers, stretching the grey wool to dangerous proportions; only excellent tailoring—and steely self-control—held him in check.
“I know this was a favor for me,” she said haltingly, “but I had assumed that you would gain some pleasure out of it too. Now it all seems rather… one-sided.”
“Do you want me to make love to you, Primrose?” he said evenly.
She bit her lip. “I think… I do.”
Her aching whisper almost undermined his resolve. Almost.
“Let me know when you are certain.” Pulling her to her feet, he said casually, “Arms up, sweetheart.” Looking adorably befuddled, she obeyed, and he pulled the chemise over her head. He followed with her corset, deftly tying the laces. “And let me be clear: there is only one circumstance under which I’ll make love to you.”
Her brow puckered. “What circumstance is that?”
“When I take you, it won’t be a one-time affair. It won’t be because you have to rid yourself of your virginity or because you’re simply curious about being bedded. It won’t even be because you trust me to make the experience good for you.”
“Pray tell, what reason would move you?” she said with a touch of tartness.
“I’ll make love to you when you want me,” he said. “When you can’t stop thinking about me kissing you, touching you, my cock filling your sweet pussy.” He noted with satisfaction her deep blush and flaring pupils and gave her corset a final tug. “I’ll make love to you when you admit I’m the only man who can give you what you need.”
“Rather sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Her voice had a breathy edge.
He buttoned up her gown and set her bonnet on her head. “I’m honest. When you’re ready to be, send word to me.” He twitched the veil in place over her astonished face. “Do us both a favor, sunshine: don’t keep me waiting.”
Chapter Eighteen
Two days later, Rosie descended the steps of the Revelstoke townhouse in a distinctly grumpy mood. She could have blamed it on the indignity of the physician’s examination she’d endured that morning. At least he’d confirmed the consummation of her marriage. Mr. Mayhew, Daltry’s executor, had returned to Town and set up a meeting tomorrow to finalize Daltry’s affairs; she couldn’t wait to put the grim business behind her.
Yet her surliness wasn’t due to her marriage. She placed the blame for her mood squarely on the broad shoulders of Andrew Corbett. She couldn’t get him out of her thoughts, and she had a sneaking suspicion that he’d done that on purpose.
You’re mine. I’m the only man who can give you what you need.
He’d planted that notion, and it flourished in the jungle of her mind. Images of him proliferated, filling her every waking hour—and even when she wasn’t awake. Her cheeks warmed. Who knew that dreams could be so depraved? He’d awakened some dormant need in her, and now she couldn’t contain it.
Even now, her body simmered with awareness. With each step, her breasts pressed against her bodice, achy and full, the tips pulsing as she recalled how he’d suckled her. His mouth had felt so good there and lower… Goodness, had she really allowed him to do that? To kiss her… pussy? Just thinking the word liquefied her insides.
Botheration, she thought sourly. Now not only do I need to guard against uncharitable thoughts, I have to watch out for lewd ones too.
Thanks to Andrew, she couldn’t get words like cock and fuck out of her head. They were wicked, coarse… and rather titillating.
Heavens above, she was a trollop.
She couldn’t stop herself from imagining what it would be like to be in Andrew’s bed. To hear his deep voice murmuring deliciously naughty things. To feel him doing those things. To have his cock inside her, filling her, making her forget everything but how right it felt to be with him…
Don’t be a nitwit. Are you really going to throw away everything you’ve worked so hard for—to have an affair?
Frustrated at her own stupidity, she stomped through the foyer toward the drawing room. The door was open, and she stopped short at the sight of Polly… and Revelstoke. The earl had his wife pressed up against a wall, their profiles revealed to anyone who might walk in, but they were too absorbed in each other to notice.
Revelstoke had one hand braced on the wall by Polly’s head. Polly’s eyes were closed, her lips parted as he nuzzled the side of her neck. Tingles danced over Rosie’s skin as she recalled Andrew kissing her there, along that sensitive slope, then sucking her earlobe the way Revelstoke was doing to his countess now. A sensual sigh escaped Polly—and that was when Rosie noticed that the other’s stockinged legs were visible between the earl’s booted stance. Polly’s skirts were bunched at her waist, the fabric spilling over the sleeve of the earl’s jacket, his blue gaze burning with possession as he watched his wife’s face…