Bound by Bliss (Bound and Determined #2)(36)

Which was probably why she had provided this room for him. She understood that Bliss was unlike any woman he had ever spent time with here. The others might have been ladies, but none had that special quality that flowed endlessly from Bliss. He’d never been able to define what it was about her that stirred him so: her innocence, her kindness, the vitality with which she approached every aspect of her life, the vulnerability that sometimes peeked out from her smiling eyes? He’d never been sure.



But he was sure that it was there.

As if sensing his thoughts, Bliss stirred in his arms, her face turning to nuzzle beneath his chin, her hand rising to curl against his chest. She settled for a moment, and then with a sudden jerk came awake. Her large eyes lifted slowly to stare first at him and then about the room. She blinked and he could see her confusion.

“Where are we?”

“Still at Madame Rouge’s,” he answered.

“Really?” Her eyes wandered about the room and he could see her making the same calculations he had previously. He saw her take in the thick brocade coverlet, the rich hangings above the bed and at the windows, the gilt embroidery that edged all. “This is Madame Rouge’s? First the parlor and then this? I never imagined this is what a brothel was like.”

“I’ve heard rumors that Madame Noir, the previous madam, was the lover of a duke, although the details remain sketchy as to which one. This, I believe, was the chamber he used.”

“A madame was the lover of a duke?”

The surprise in her voice made him smile. “I believe it is far more common than one might think. A number of the women who rise high in this profession have aristocratic connections.”

She looked puzzled.

“Did you listen to Ruby’s accent and tone?” he continued. “I have never asked her story, but I would imagine that she did not rise from the streets or even the villages. Nobody has those manners who has not been taught them from birth.”



“Hmmm,” Bliss replied, her thoughts clearly beginning to move beyond the chamber and to what had happened between them. “Did you do that to me on purpose, make me orgasm, make me come?”

Did she really question such a thing? “Well, yes, I did.”

“Why?”

How did a man answer that? “I thought you wanted it. You were rather pleading at the end.”

“But why did you begin? I understand that men like to touch breasts—at least most men. I imagine that the two gentlemen I watched prefer to touch other things.”

“Yes, I rather imagine they do, but I certainly enjoy touching breasts.”

“So I understand why you touched my breasts, although perhaps not why you pinched them so tight. It hurt.”

“And yet you liked it, did you not, little one?” he asked, realizing how much her answer meant to him. He’d sensed her arousal in that hint of pain, or had he been wrong? So much might depend on her answer.

He felt her chest rise as she pulled a deep breath in. Would she be honest? There had been no mistaking the excitement that filled her, but it could be hard to admit that even the slightest pain could hold an edge of pleasure.

“Yes. Yes, I liked it. But I don’t like that I liked it.” There was a slight pout to her voice.

“Why not? If you liked it, how can that be a problem?” Although he understood all too well. His body might long to take her to those places, but his mind was still unconvinced. She was going to be his wife. A man did not play in such ways with his wife. And yet…



Another pause. “Emotions do not have to be reasonable. If there is one thing that I learned in my father’s house it is that. We feel what we feel—sometimes we can control how we react, but we cannot control the feelings.”

He was not altogether sure that he agreed with that; much of his life had been about trying to control his emotions, about trying to control his desire for Bliss until they were both ready, about trying to hide the core of who he was and what he wanted from society. Still. “So, if we cannot control them are the feelings wrong?”

“No.” She sounded much surer about that.

“Well, then why should it be wrong to enjoy something? You cannot help what you enjoy.” And if that were true, was what he wanted to do with Bliss wrong? Perhaps he’d been thinking about this, about her the wrong way. It had never occurred to him that she might share some of his tastes, but if she did…would he not be a fool not to give in?

Bliss continued, “No, but you can control how you indulge. I enjoy both clotted cream and rich red wine, though not together. But, if I indulge too much in either I am always sorry. And honey. I love honey, but the one time I snuck down into Cook’s pantry and ate spoonful after spoonful I was sick for days. A little honey may be wonderful; a bucketful is not necessarily more wonderful.”

He took her point but would not give in. “Do you feel sick for having enjoyed what I did to you?”

Her hand rose to her breast. “I am a little sore.” She pressed down upon the nipple. “But I would confess I have worn corsets that caused more irritation. I cannot claim to be sick, but I am not convinced it is something I should like. And as for how I feel lower down, I am not even sure I understand that yet.”



“So it is more that you feel you should dislike it than that you do. Would you try it again?”