Angel in Scarlet (Bound and Determined #4)(24)

He could not deny that there was some slight pleasure in watching Granderson touch her, but with every move further, he wanted to push two back. He liked knowing that Granderson found her desirable, but this—this was more maddening than it was pleasurable.

Granderson squeezed her tight, and Colton could see that she found no pleasure.

Her eyes clung to him, refusing to back down. She would do this for him. If he found pleasure, she would be content.

Granderson moved his thumbs to the edge of the bodice again, pulling it down inch by slow inch. He rose behind Angela, a thigh braced on either side, his hips pressed forward, grinding against her.

And then her breasts were bare, just as they had been in the garden, the nipples tight and rosy, turning redder by the moment, the flesh pale and creamy, begging to be touched—but touched by him, not Granderson.

Her eyes widened. She was not happy—and yet still she did not refuse.

When Granderson took her nipples between thumb and forefinger, pressing tight and then releasing, stretching them out, making them swell and beg, Angela only pressed her lips together.

Her eyes were still on him. He saw tears form there but not fall.

And through it all he saw her determination. She would not cry.

Not now. Not ever.

Colton knew he should ask if she wanted to stop, but he also knew she would refuse. She had made her bed, in a most literal sense, and now she would lie in it. For whatever reason she would not back out.

And he could not bear it.

“Stop.” He bit the word out.

Granderson pulled his hands away. Her bodice slid back up, mostly covering her.

She did not move, only stayed there, looking at him, those unshed tears still pooling in her eyes.

Granderson slid off the bed and stood. The man still appeared immaculate, barely a wrinkle, not a hair out of place. Only a slight pink swelling of the lips betrayed that he was not about to leave for an evening in Town. He brushed the legs of his trousers, removing imaginary lint. “Perhaps I should be going.” He did not say it as a question, but Colton heard the inquiry.

“Perhaps you should.” And if you would take Angela with you and show her the way out, that would be wonderful. That is what he would say if he were sensible, but clearly he lacked all sense of reason. He could not allow her to leave in this state. He had done this and he must fix it. “I believe Marie is working tonight. Tell Ruby to charge her to my account. I am sure she can supply what you need.”

“That is completely not necessary, but I will take you up on it nonetheless.” And then with a nod Granderson was gone.

Angela said nothing, but her eyes slipped closed, and a single tear finally wound its way down her cheek.

—

“Why?” she asked, her voice catching on the single word.

“Why?” he repeated back, his voice low and intimate.

She opened her eyes. How could she explain the million things she meant by that single question? She would start with one.

“Why did you stop?”

“Because you were not enjoying yourself.” He looked away as he said it.

As simple as that, and yet it did not ring quite true. Still, it was far easier to concentrate on him than to examine why she had not fled, why she was still here. “What does that matter? I made it clear that this was about what you wanted, not what I wanted. I only seek to make you happy, to give you pleasure.”

He rose from the chair and stood by the mantel, staring up at the painting above it, a tranquil landscape that seemed an odd choice for a brothel. “Well, I found I was not happy. And you are not convincing. You would not be here if you were not seeking something for yourself.”

“Did I not please you?”

“You did as I requested. I cannot deny that.” His voice was little more than a low growl. He did not want to have this conversation. Perhaps his feelings did not bear examination either.

Well, she didn’t care. “And why Lord Granderson?”

“As I told you, sometimes I like to watch.”

“It is not that simple. You wanted to push me further than I would go. I don’t quite know how I know, but I do know that.” She said it as a fact, but in her mind it was all question.

“Yes.” He said nothing else.

“Why?”

He didn’t answer but stayed staring up at the painting, as if entranced by its soft greens and browns.

“Why?” she asked again, unable to let it rest. “Why did you want me to leave?”

“I do not trust this game you wish to play,” he said, turning back to her.

“It is not that simple. That may be part of it, but if it were that simple you would just have said no to me at the start. Why did you invite me to come and then try to force me to stop?”

“Did you give me a choice? Surely you see how foolish this scheme is.”

She was losing track of what the scheme actually was. Vengeance? That had been the plan, but in this moment she felt she was fighting for more than that.

“Yes, I fully understand the risks I take. I know all the reasons why I should not do this, and yet I cannot help myself. What I don’t understand is why you are doing it if you do not really want me. You asked me for honesty; now give me the same.”

“I want you to give this idea up. It is not right. You are either seeking to ruin yourself or to force me to marriage, and neither is acceptable.”