Page 89 of Bad Luck Bride

The scent of gardenias filled his head, desire was coursing through his body like a flood, and his heart was thudding so hard, he thought it would come right out of his chest.

He dipped at the knees, pressing his hips to hers, and the pleasure was so sharp, so exquisite, he tore his lips from hers with a groan. Fighting to stay on his feet, he rocked against her, relishing the low moan she made in response.

He pulled back again, but only to grasp her skirts, pulling them upward to get his hand beneath.

She made a faint sound that might have been a protest, and he froze, waiting in an agony of tension, but when she said nothing and didn’t push him away, he moved again, gliding his hand slowly up her thigh as he tilted his head, to press kisses along her jaw to her ear. Then, slowly, giving her plenty of time to object if she chose, he eased his hand between her thighs.

She gave a shuddering gasp, and he kissed her, capturing the sound in his mouth as he slid his fingers inside the slit of her drawers.

All those years ago, they’d never gone this far, and as he touched the soft, slick wetness of her, the pleasure was so great, he almost sank to his knees.

He caressed the crease of her sex, and he relished the low, soft sounds she made in response. As her breathing quickened to desperate pants and her hips worked frantically against his hand, he knew she was nearing climax, and once again, he used words to arouse her further.

“You’re close,” he murmured, delicately caressing her clitoris with his thumb. “So close, my love. Let it happen. Come for me. Come.”

And then she did, giving a sharp, keening cry that was like the sweetest music he’d ever heard. Again and again, her muscles clenched hard around his hand as he continued to caress her, wringing the last few spasms of pleasure from her. Then she collapsed, panting, her knees buckling beneath her. He caught her, pulling his hand from beneath her skirts and wrapping both arms around her waist, holding her tight against him.

He was painfully aware of his own throbbing need, but this wasn’t the way to sate it. Not like this. Not in an empty hotel, against a wall. The way was courtship and romance, culminating in a big wedding for everyone in society to see. That was what she wanted, and he intended to give it to her.

Hat askew, loosened tendrils of red-gold hair falling around her face, she looked deliciously rumpled. She stared up at him with those strange, magical eyes of hers, reminding him of that first night when he’d asked her to dance. As if… as if he was her hero. And he almost wanted to laugh, because right now, with lust coursing through every cell of his body, he felt anything but heroic.

“Why did you stop?” she panted.

“Because we can’t.” He pressed a quick kiss to her mouth and stepped back, forcing himself to let her go. “Not now. Not like this.”

He turned abruptly away. “I’ll wait for you in the carriage,” he said. And then, as he had done so many times when they were young, he turned away from her with his body on fire.

“But for God’s sake, Kay,” he said over his shoulder as he walkedaway, “give me a minute or two before you come down. Or I really don’t know what might happen.”

He started down the stairs, and he didn’t look back. Because he knew that if he turned, if he looked at her again, with her rumpled skirts and wide eyes and just-kissed lips, the honorable courtship he’d embarked upon a few weeks ago would be nothing more than a bad joke.

He crossed the empty lobby and walked out the front door, into the warm afternoon sun. Leaning his back against the brick wall beside the door, he closed his eyes, breathing deeply of the sultry summer air, working to contain his lust, just as he had when he was a lad of twenty.

No wonder he’d wanted to elope all those years ago. Courtship, he thought caustically, was a hellish business.

18

Kay closed her eyes as Devlin’s footsteps faded away, her head in a whirl, her body still pulsing with all the strange, glorious sensations he had evoked with his touch. She wasn’t completely naïve about these things, but she hadn’t known—hadn’t ever dreamed—it could feel like this. In all the frantic kisses of their youth, never once had they gone this far.

She opened her eyes, and as she stared at the wall opposite, she knew that for the rest of her life, she would remember that peeling, stained, absolutely beautiful gardenia wallpaper.

Down below, she heard a door open and close, reminding her that they had to go back, back to reality where she had to be proper and decorous and careful. How tiresome.

Kay straightened away from the wall, tidied her skirt and hat, and retrieved her clipboard and handbag from the floor, but even as she did these things, she still felt as if she were in a dream.

As the carriage took them back to the West End, neither of them spoke. Kay was still too overwhelmed by what had happened between them, and she felt a bit shy in consequence. In addition,Devlin stared out the carriage window for most of the journey, causing her shyness to give way to uncertainty.

There were things she badly wanted to ask him, but his demeanor didn’t invite questions, and it wasn’t until the carriage was nearly at the hotel that she found her nerve.

“Devlin? Are you all right?”

He still didn’t look at her, but to her surprise, he gave a chuckle. “No,” he said. “For that, I fear a dunk in a very cold bath will be required.”

Given the fiery episode of half an hour before, she had at least some idea of what he meant. “Oh,” she murmured, her face heating.

“What about you?” he asked.

“Me? I feel…” She paused and sighed. “I feel wonderful, actually.”

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