A Little Bit Sinful(51)

She arched into him. She knew she should probably stop him, should probably race out of her and return home, but she craved his touch too much. And like any good story, she wanted to know the ending, as she knew there was more to come.

He suckled at her breast, her nipples ached and his mouth gave her what she needed. And his hand, his fingers slipped in between the slit in her drawers to the curls that hid between her legs. The touch should have sat her upright, but this was what she’d been craving. This was where all the sensations hovered, over that center core. And he knew what to do.

His fingers parted her and every touch was like a jolt of pleasure. He toyed at the opening, running his finger around her and she tried to push against his hand, begging him for more. Every movement she made played notes and chords, creating odd music. And as he played her body, knowing every note to hit, her body crescendoed, climbing higher and higher and his mouth kissed her breast and his hands pushed her closer and closer to her peak.

Finally she broke. Notes sang out from the piano. She cried out, calling his name again and again. “Justin!” She shook in his arms as the pleasure rode through her.

When it was done, he picked up her body, cradling her to him and carried her over to the plush blanket in front of the hearth. They lay down beside one another. She snuggled against his chest, wishing his clothes were removed so she could touch his skin.

This man was a mystery to her. Her body craved him, yet at the same time she feared her need of him, her reaction to his touch.

“You want me to teach you these things so you can seduce George,” he said. His deep voice broke through the silence. “But what if I want you all to myself? What if I only want you to do these things with me?”

…

After an hour of lying in Justin’s arms, Clarissa made some excuse about needing to get home before daylight. Once in her room and settled in her bed, she lay there, looking up at the darkened ceiling, her mind racing.

Over and over she heard his words: “What if I want you all to myself? What if I only want you do these things with me?” She was so confused, and being next to him with his hands on her body, she’d wanted to say, “Yes, I pick you.” But she couldn’t do that. He hadn’t offered marriage, he’d merely told her he wanted her. That wasn’t enough.

It wasn’t so much what he said that terrified her, but her reaction. She’d wanted to roll over and agree. Tell him he could be the one. She’d come so close to giving him her body and then where would that have left her? Justin wasn’t bound by the same societal rules as she was. If he ruined her, there was nothing that demanded he do right by her and marry her.

It was time to settle things with George once and for all before she did something she truly regretted with Justin.

He was illegitimate, and he owned a gaming establishment. Not at all the manner of man she was raised with the idea of marrying. Nor did he have intentions of marrying her. He’d even said once that he’d never marry a girl in proper Society. No, George was the kind of man she was supposed to marry.

It didn’t matter that all things considered she’d pick Justin.





Chapter Eleven


On very little sleep Clarissa had risen the following morning for a scheduled shopping excursion with Ella. Her brief stop in the dining room to pilfer a piece of something for breakfast had been met with Marcus and Vivian sitting entirely too close to one another for the first meal of the day. They’d exchanged pleasantries, but Clarissa hadn’t stayed around for any lengthy conversation.

Once in the carriage with Ella and Lady Weaver, they both began talking so quickly Clarissa wasn’t certain who to listen to.

“Start over,” Clarissa told them.

“Mother, allow me,” Ella said. Her mother nodded. “I cannot believe how much you missed. This will teach you to leave a ball that early. Lord Rutherford announced his engagement to an heiress. An American heiress.”

“Good heavens, wasn’t he already betrothed?” Clarissa asked. “To Jane Pendergast. I thought they’d made a love match.”

Ella nodded. “Yes, I believe they were in love. Evidently, he and this American girl got themselves locked in a room at some soiree and the girl is obviously ruined though even she said that Lord Rutherford never touched her. Still he’s doing the honorable thing by marrying her. I’m told poor Jane is simply devastated.”

“He is a man of good breeding, doing the right thing by the American girl,” Clarissa said.