Page 28 of Her Magnificent Mistake
He was well and truly fooked.
On the one hand, he was enjoying his time with Allie, and even young Rupert. Their mutual knowledge could be overwhelming, but they were both quick-witted and amusing to be around.
On the other hand…Marcia.
Ten years of avoiding the most tempting temptation to ever tempt, and he blurts out an invitation to fookingvisit him,just because he’d been distracted by a waltz? And then, despite the fact that she could be forgiven for holding a grudge for ten years, she acceptsanddrops right in his lap?
Repeatedly?
Fooked alright.
It was bad enough that she was here, tempting him again, but at least he could resist her when she was pretending to beeverything he’d hated about Society women. But after that kiss, after she went back to being herself, she was…
Well, she was everything he’d remembered, and more.
The Marcia he’d fallen in love with all those years ago had been young and idealistic and full of plans and ideas for the coming century. There’d been a bit of naiveite there, but he’d been impressed by her resilience, her enthusiasm, and her boldness.
But now?
Now that she’d spent a decade dealing with the harsh realities of the world, and heartache, and loss? Now that the naiveite had worn off and she’d realized shecouldgrab the world in both hands?
Now she was positively addicting. She was the sun, and he was…he was a sapling, reaching—stretching for her.
Fooked, definitely. Ye’re spouting poetry.
In the last days, they’d fallen into a sort of camaraderie. Not exactly the same…friendshipthey’d had all those years ago, because he was still desperately fighting this inappropriate attraction, but a friendship nonetheless.
And as she’d promised, Marciawasgood with paperwork. She could make sense of it, and more importantly, explain it easily enough that he could grasp it quickly. Even rooting out embezzlement had been easy for her, while it had taken him ages to find. Although it had been a struggle that first day to contain his throbbing cockstand, they’d settled in the gazebo and pretended sternly that the kiss had never happened.
Oh God, that kiss.
That kiss.
The kiss that was like coming home. The kiss that reminded him ofeverything. The kiss that had reached into his chest, and lower, andmade him fooking complete.
The kiss that he’d ended when Hawk remembered she was his best friend’s little sister.
The reminder hadn’t helped, though, when he’d taken himself in hand that night in his bed. Knowing she wasright next door, with her door unlocked. Had she been hoping he’d come to her?
Well, he’d damn well come in another way at least.
He’d stroked himself, remembering the feel of her body beneath his hands, remembering those arousing little noises she’d made as she clutched at him. And aye, he imagined it to beherhands,hermouth on him.
He’d wondered—nay, he’dhopedthat she was doing much the same thing mere feet away.
He’d pictured her, lying there in that large guest bed, her feet planted, knees up, thighs spread. Her nightgown pulled up around her waist, her fingers buried in her cunny, stroking and plunging. Her other hand squeezing her tit, her thumb teasing the bud of pleasure he remembered she liked so much.
He’d imagined her coming, gasping, thinking ofhim…and he’d spilled across his hand with a low groan, feeling like a cad.
An utter cad, who frigged himself while thinking of a woman he couldn’t—shouldn’t—have.
But that didn’t stop Hawk from doing it each night since that soul destroying kiss.
God forgive him.
Another reason to feel like a guilty coward.
Aknock at the door had Marcia turning from where she struggled with her gown. “Yes?” she called.
