Sylvia Day - Perfect Kisses

Lady Harville waved her fan in the direction of the gaming room as she reached them. “I just introduced your aunt to Lady Strand who was looking for a fourth for whist. They are off arm and arm.”

“Oh, dear. My aunt is alarmingly serious about whist and a bit outspoken, I’m afraid.”

“As is Lady Strand on both counts.” Catherine smiled. “Don’t worry. All will be well.” She glanced at Harriet twirling past in Seego’s arms. “I see your sister is being amused.”

“Indeed. Thank you for inviting us and thank you too for the wonderful books.”

“They were of no use to me and James rather thought you would like them,” she replied, not quibbling over the truth when this woman might offer James some happiness-however brief.

“Speaking of books, I was about to show Miss Russell Harry’s map collection. Would you care to join us?”

“I would love to if I could get away from my guests. Unfortunately, I see Charlotte over there looking daggers at Anne.” She made a small moue. “They are sharing a lover at the moment which makes for bad feelings. Pelham should know better, of course, but he doesn’t, insensitive rake that he is. Heavens-they’re about to make a scene!”

As she rushed away to intercede, Ormond said with a shrug, “Pelham should know better. The man is witless. Come,” he added, taking Claire by the elbow and moving toward the doorway. “This is why I never attend these affairs. It’s such a graceless assemblage of gossip and over-dressed curiosity-seekers.”

Claire shot a quick glance at the dance floor.

“Harriet’s fine,” Ormond said. “She won’t miss you or your aunt.”

“I’m afraid you’re right,” Claire murmured.

“Certainly that’s beneficial, is it not?”

“Yes, yes, it is. Only-”

“Only she doesn’t need you anymore?” Ormond said with a small smile as they entered the corridor. “You haven’t been paying attention, darling.”

She shouldn’t have responded to the word darling, to the warmth in his voice. And if he hadn’t leaned over and lightly kissed her cheek, she would have been better able to resist.

“For heaven’s sake, behave.” But even as she spoke a rush of pleasure streaked through her body.

“I wish I could. Two days seems like a lifetime.” In fact, he’d been remarkably disciplined; two days was a record for him. Women, didn’t as a rule, rebuff him.

“Perhaps we should go back to the ballroom.” The nervous tremor in her voice was obvious.

“Perhaps we shouldn’t,” he murmured, kissing her cheek again.

“Don’t you dare embarrass me,” she whispered, nervously glancing around, grateful to see them alone in the hallway.

“I’ll try not to.”

“James!”

He took a deep breath. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. Everything will be fine. Although it would have helped if you’d worn a different gown.”

“I’m sorry.” She shouldn’t have given into her vanity.

He smiled. “It’s not your fault. I would have found you irresistible in a shift.” He grinned. “Probably more irresistible. Here, we’ve reached the library,” he said, opening a door and ushering her in. “Now if you keep your distance, all will be well.”

She was partially mollified by his admission. She preferred not admitting that she’d dressed for seduction. That she desired him. That only fear of discovery served to restrain her ardor. “I shall keep my distance,” she said, although the lack of conviction in her voice was conspicuous.

His nostrils flared like a wolf on the scent.

Shutting the door behind him, he turned the key in the lock.

“Don’t,” she whispered, backing away from him.

“No one would think of coming into the library.” Stripping off his white kid evening gloves, he let them drop.

“Someone might!” Backing into a large chair, flustered, she came to a stop.

“They won’t,” he said, moving toward her at a circumspect pace. “And even if they did, the door is locked.”

“James, I beg of you!”

But the tremor in her voice wasn’t fear, her breathing had accelerated, and her nipples were taut beneath the fine silk of her bodice. “Don’t worry-you’re perfectly safe,” he offered soothingly.

“Allow me to disagree.” Restive and skittish, she shifted from foot to foot as though about to bolt.

Dare he say to a wavering virgin that he wouldn’t come in her-that he never did? Or would such bluntness frighten her more? “I promise you no repercussions of any kind,” he said delicately.

“That’s not a promise you can fulfill,” she said with a small vehemence.

“Forgive me if I’m too direct, but if you fear becoming pregnant, you needn’t. I’m very dependable.”

“I see.” She took a small breath. “That is rather direct.”

I’m sorry. I was hoping to allay your fears.” He briefly frowned. “This is unusual for us both, I fear.”

“Because women normally fall into your arms?”

Under the circumstances, that was not a question he cared to answer. “How can it matter,” he said, softly, instead, “whether we make love tonight or tomorrow or the next day?”

“This is not love.”

“It all depends on your interpretation.” She was right, though, about women falling into his arms. Dealing with a woman who didn’t was turning out to be-well…time consuming, he facetiously thought, suddenly amused by this curious scuffle.

“Is something humorous?”

“Would you like the truth?”

“I would like to be somewhere else,” she pettishly replied, struggling to reconcile her potent desires with the manifold improprieties.

He smiled. “Perhaps in my bed?”

“Very amusing.”

“I dare say you’d find it more than amusing.”

“Such arrogance, Ormond.”

His smile widened. “Now you owe me tuppence.”

“How cavalier you are. Do women find your casual impertinence appealing?”

He laughed. “As you noted the other day, women find my fortune the most appealing-your sister included if I may say so without offending you further. Although, if you allow me, I could show you my more admirable qualities.” She was too green to hear the truth about what most appealed to his lovers.

“And if I allow that, I shall adore you as well?”

“I didn’t say I was adored.” He was pleased to see her skittishness displaced by a petulance he knew how to deal with. “Let’s just say that the ladies I know are always appreciative.”

“So I understand. The gossip sheets proclaim you much in demand in the boudoir.”

“I admit to a certain popularity,” he said, smiling faintly, aware of the most trifling peevishness in her voice, as though she were feeling deprived. “Perhaps I might convince you of what you’ve been missing if you’d allow.”

She made a small moue. “Conceited man.”

“I’m good at what I do.”

“And why wouldn’t you be since vice is the sole focus of your life.”

“Au contraire. It’s the scandal sheets that thrive on sex. I have many interests. When we have more time, I’ll tell you about them. As for vice, my sweet little prude, let me change your mind-and your vocabulary apropos pleasure.” He dropped his gaze to her taut nipples, then looked up and smiled at her. “I’d wager you’re feeling a certain heated palpitation in your-”

“Don’t say it,” she blurted out.

“I only meant to point out that we have privacy, you and I have agreed to agree and I could assuage your-er-restlessness if you’d like. I guarantee you’ll enjoy yourself.”

His voice was hushed and low, his provocative offer tempting. And he was right-she’d already agreed to this. “I am not a prude,” she whispered. “I just didn’t expect this-” she waved her hand slightly, indicating the venue. “In all honesty,” she reluctantly added, “I do find myself-”

“Intrigued?”

She sighed. “Yes.”

“Then why not think of this as an investment in your sister’s future. Would that make it better-easier? Harriet is being served up a full array of suitors,” he saliently noted. “Which was the point of our arrangement, was it not?”

“I didn’t think-that is…I wasn’t planning on the-well…suddenness.”

Unlike her, he wasn’t indecisive. As for suddenness, he hardly thought waiting two entire days met that criteria. “The door’s locked. The drapes are drawn. Your sister and aunt are intent on their own pleasures.” He moved closer; they were only inches apart. “Look,” he said, holding out his arms, “You set the pace. I won’t touch you. How would that be?”

His deep voice was benign, his offer innocuous. How could it hurt?-the little voice inside her head observed.

“You could start by kissing me,” he suggested, not entirely sure a tyro knew what to do. Not sure he could wait much longer. Although the heated flush on her cheeks, the agitated rise and fall of her breasts gave him reason to think she might be more ready than she realized.

Would she or would she not give in to her urges?

Could he or could he not continue to play the gentleman with her sexual need so blatant?

Then, fortunately for his peace of mind and aching cock, she moved forward an infinitesimal distance, and clenching his fists he stood immobile-waiting.

Slowly raising her gloved hands, she placed them gingerly on his white satin waistcoat.

And he waited still-breath-held.

The sweet scent of her overwhelmed his senses as she rose on tiptoe and leaned into him. Her soft breasts pressed into his chest, her thighs brushed against his, and then, more pertinently, her lower body came into contact with his hard, pulsing erection.

Only with the utmost restraint did he remain motionless.

Provocatively aware of the rigid length of his penis prodding her stomach, the tantalizing proximity further fanned her already fevered desires and, wild with longing, Claire abruptly jettisoned reason and logic. Overwhelmed by lust, she gave into the more powerful, corrupting force.

Ormond might have told her as much before time.

But perhaps for virgin maidens, experience was the better teacher.

Her last fears and trepidation cast aside, she shut her eyes, gave herself up, and kissed him.

As her lips finally made contact with his, he felt a wild excitement out of all proportion to the simple act. Cynic that he was, he immediately attributed his feelings to the prolonged delay in gaining the lady’s favors.

Less cynical, or not cynical at all, further buoyed by a heated rush of incredible pleasure melting through her senses, Claire opened her eyes and kissed Ormond again-gladly and willingly. With the euphoria of having tasted the sweetest of forbidden fruit.

Dropping back on her heels a moment later, newly liberated and giddy with joy, she smiled up at him. “I couldn’t resist you. I couldn’t no matter what. I expect you hear that often.”

“No, of course not,” he urbanely replied.

“How polite you are, but never fear-I am content to be added to your list of conquests. The gossip sheets are right; you are irresistible. And now, since the die is cast,” she quickly added, as though any deliberation might cause her to falter in her course, “if you’d be so kind as to unbutton me, I won’t have to worry about wrinkling my gown.” Pulling off her kid gloves, she swung around so her back was to him.

Her swift volte-face from apprehension to this unvarnished candor was unexpected, but never one to reflect overlong when offered sex, Ormond quickly set about doing her bidding.

“You’re sure the door is locked?” She could have been speaking to her greengrocer, so prosaic her tone.

“Yes.” His fingers flew over the buttons.

“And you promise we’ll have no interruptions.” She carefully set her gloves on the chair arm.

He laughed, charmed by her engaging frankness. “At the moment, darling, I would quite willingly offer you anything at all.”

She flashed him a smile over her shoulder. “I dare say if I were the mercenary type, this would be my opportunity to strike an excellent bargain.”

“No doubt about it,” he said with a grin, slipping her dress from her shoulders, speaking from experience.

“Although I suppose that window of opportunity is fast closing,” she teased, pushing the gown down her hips, and stepping out of it. Feeling suddenly as though she were on French leave from the dull monotony of her life, she turned back to him with the sweetest of smiles.

“I assure you, I will not be ungrateful at any stage,” he murmured, winking at her as he stripped off his coat.

As she carefully spread her gown over the back of a chair, he kicked off his shoes and dropped his coat on the floor.

“Now you’re going to be wrinkled.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He unfastened his waistcoat.

“But I do.”

It was her schoolmistress tone-so sensitive to her precarious feelings he readily complied, picking up his coat and placing it on a nearby table. “Better?” he queried, sliding off his waistcoat. “Would you like someone to press our clothes later?” he teased.