Lady Sophia's Lover (Bow Street Runners #2)(18)

Sir Ross shook his head. “It is late. You need to rest. Your work will wait until the morrow.”

“Very well. I shall retire for the evening… if you will also.”

He seemed vaguely annoyed by the suggestion. “No, I still have much to do. Good night, Miss Sydney.”

Sophia knew that she should obey without further comment. But the shadows beneath his eyes and the deep brackets on the sides of his lips were proof that he was exhausted. Good heavens, why must he push himself so hard?

“I don’t require any more sleep than you do, sir. If you stay up late, I am capable of doing the same. I also have work to do.”

His brows lowered in a forbidding scowl. “Go to bed, Miss Sydney.”

Sophia did not flinch. “Not until you do.”

“My bedtime has nothing to do with yours,” he said curtly, “unless you are suggesting that we go to bed together.”

Clearly, the remark was meant to intimidate her into silence.

A reckless reply came to mind, one so bold that she bit her tongue to keep from speaking. And then she thought, Why not? It was time to declare her sexual interest in him… time to advance her plan of seduction one more step.

“All right” she said quickly. “If that is what it takes to make you get the rest you require—so be it.”

His dark face went blank. The lengthy silence that ensued was evidence of how greatly she had surprised him. My God, she thought in a flutter of panic. Now I’ve done it. She could not predict how Sir Ross would respond. Being a gentleman—a notoriously celibate one—he might refuse her proposition. However, there was something in his expression—a flicker in his gray eyes—that made her wonder if he might not accept the impulsive invitation. And if he did, she would have to carry it out and sleep with him. The thought jarred her very soul. This was what she had planned, what she had wanted to achieve, but she was suddenly terrified.

Terrified by the realization of how much she wanted him.

Slowly Sir Ross approached, following as she backed away one step, then another, until her spine was flattened against the door. His alert gaze did not move from her flushed face as he braced his hands on the door, placing them on either side of her head.

“My bedroom or yours?” he asked softly.

Perhaps he expected her to back down, stammer, run away.

Her hands curled into balls of tension. “Which would you prefer?” she parried.

His head tilted as he studied her, his eyes oddly caressing. “My bed is bigger.”

“Oh,” was all she could manage to whisper. Her heart crashed repeatedly against the wall of her chest, pounding the breath from her lungs.

He looked at her as if he could read her every thought and emotion. “However,” he murmured, relenting, “if we retire together, I doubt that either of us would get much rest.”

“P-probably not,” she agreed unsteadily.

“Therefore, I suppose it would be for the best if we adhered to our usual arrangement.”

“Our usual…”

“You go to your bed, and I’ll go to mine.”

Relief flooded her, leaving her weak, but at the same time she was aware of a subtle wash of disappointment. “You won’t stay up late, then?” she asked.

He grinned at her perseverance. “Good God, you’re tenacious. No, I won’t cross you. I fear the consequences if I do.” Standing back, he opened the door for her. “Miss Sydney, there is just one more thing.”

Sophia paused before leaving. “Yes, sir?”

He reached for her, his hand sliding around the back of her neck. Sophia was too startled to move or breathe, her entire body stiffening as his head lowered to hers. He touched her only with his lips and with his hand at her nape, but she was as helpless as if she had been bound to him with iron chains.

There had been no time to prepare herself… she was defenseless and stunned, unable to withhold her response. At first his lips were gentle, exquisitely careful, as if he feared bruising her. Then he coaxed her to give him more, his mouth settling more firmly on hers. The taste of him, his intimate flavor laced with the hint of coffee, affected her like a drug. The tip of his tongue slid past her teeth in silken exploration. He tasted the interior of her mouth, stroked the slick insides of her cheeks. Anthony had never kissed her like this, feeding her rising passion as if he were layering kindling on a blaze. Devastated by his skill, Sophia swayed dizzily and clutched his hard neck.

Oh, if only he would hold her tightly and lock her full length against his… but he still touched her only with that one hand, and consumed her mouth with patient hunger. Sensing the force of his passion, held so securely in check, Sophia instinctively sought a way to release it. Her hands fluttered to the sides of his face, stroking the bristle of his cheeks and jaw.

Ross made a quiet sound in his throat. Suddenly he took hold of her shoulders and eased her away from his body, ignoring her whimpering protest. Sophia’s gaze locked with his in a moment of searing wonder. The stillness was broken only by their panting breaths. No man had ever looked at Sophia that way, as if he could eat her with his gaze, as if he wanted to possess every inch of her body and every flicker of her soul. She was frightened by the power of her response to him, the unmentionable desires that shocked her.

Sir Ross regarded her without smiling. “Good night, Sophia.”