Olivia Twist(49)

Brom whined and set his head on her feet. She reached down and rubbed his ears. “I know, boy. I’m going to miss him too.”

“Miss whom?”

Olivia hitched a breath and sprang out of her seat. Brom jumped up, tail wagging, and padded over to Jack as he shut the bedroom door softly behind him. He turned and grinned that cocky grin of his, and Olivia’s heart flipped like a pancake on a skillet, a slow sizzle heating her blood.

“Jack! How did you get in here?” she hissed under her breath.

“I asked you a question first,” he replied in his normal deep tone of voice.

“Hush!” Olivia lifted a finger to her lips, glancing at the ceiling. She’d had no time to slip a toddy in Mrs. Foster’s tea, and the evil housekeeper’s room was directly above hers. “Someone will hear you.”

He shrugged a broad shoulder. “I’m confident in your skills of deception. If someone should come to the door, I’m sure you could manufacture a convincing lie.”

His words, casual yet provoking, scraped across her frazzled nerves like an onion grater against flesh. “What is that supposed to mean?” She marched over to him, hands fisted on her hips.

He moved farther into the room, stopped in front of the fireplace, and inspected a porcelain doll on the mantel. “Do you still play with dolls?”

It was the first toy she’d ever owned—a reminder of her uncle’s generosity. She snatched it out of his hands and placed it gently back on the mantle. “What are you doing here?”

“We have unfinished business.” His gaze perused her outfit, and returned to her face with an amused lift of his brow. “I’m not sure what to call you right now, love. Being in mid-transformation as you are.”

Olivia fought against the blush threatening to erupt across her skin. In baggy boy clothes, all her hair tucked into a tight net, she must look a fright. She blinked at Jack, the personification of masculine beauty, his athletic build evident even in his unrefined clothes, and she yanked the net off her head. The rough motion sent pins clinking to the wood floor and her hair tumbling around her shoulders.

An appreciative smile spread across his face as he reached out and picked up one of her curls, letting it coil around his fingers. “I had no idea your hair was so long. Beautiful,” he whispered as he tugged on the strand, leading her closer.

She came willingly, drawn into his snare. Every warning thought, every tug of conscience flew out of her head as he closed the space between them. His eyes, like blue flames, locked on hers, his hair falling over his brow. “I’m going to kiss you now, Olivia.” The stirring melody of his voice flooded through her, washing away her fear and the last of her resistance. His arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her against him. “But only if you tell me that’s what you want.”

She nodded her head, unable to speak. He cupped the side of her face and leaned down, brushing aside her hair. Olivia inhaled sharply, his spicy scent flooding her senses as he tilted his head so that his lips grazed her ear. “You need to say it, love,” he murmured.

A hard shiver wracked down Olivia’s spine, and Jack brought her closer, his body heat soothing her chill.

“Yes.”

His mouth hovered a hairsbreadth from hers. “Yes, what?”

“Kiss me now, blast it!” Olivia clasped the back of his neck and pressed her lips to his. At the touch of his mouth, lights burst behind her closed eyes. She shoved her fingers into the silken layers of his hair, gripping the strands as the entire world tilted on its axis.

His lips slid over hers and he took her head in his hands, his thumbs caressing her face. Olivia pressed closer still. Responding to her urgency, he deepened the kiss and began to walk, pushing her backward, carrying her with one arm around her waist. The room tipped and spun until all that existed were his hands, his mouth, his skin, a blaze like starlight in her veins.

Then the back of her knees hit the bed and Olivia realized she couldn’t breathe.

Pulling away from Jack, she pushed against his shoulder. “I . . . can’t . . . brea—”

“That’s normal, love.” Still holding her around the waist, he lowered his mouth to the pulse hammering in her throat.

Now she really couldn’t breathe! She arched back and wiggled until he dropped her to her feet. Frantic, she began tugging at the buttons of her shirt, gasping like a fish on the dock.

Jack flicked the hair out of his eyes and volunteered, “Let me help with that.” His large hands reached for the tiny buttons, but she pushed him away. When she’d parted the sides of her shirt, he stared at her bound chest, his eyes darting in incomprehension.

Olivia reached around her side and released the metal fasteners that held the cloth in place. As soon as she’d unhooked the top two she drew in several exquisite gulps of air.

Jack grinned wickedly. “I thought you’d felt curvier before.”

Her limbs shook with the effort, but she stepped back and drew the shirt closed. Her sense returning, she knew the next few moments could have irreversible consequences. “I care for you, Jack . . . but . . . I have my reputation to think about . . . my future.”

Something desolate filled his eyes before he schooled his expression. Olivia took several deliberate steps away from him, tears burning her throat.

Shoving the hair off his forehead, Jack stared at something beyond her shoulder. “Your future?” he asked, as if the thought of life after this moment had just occurred to him.