Page 34 of A Virgin to Trap the Earl of Thornhill
Inside was dusty but dry. The heavy rain pelted against the thin wooden structure, creating a drumming echo. Eris wrung out the hem of her dress, her laughter subsiding as she felt the uncomfortable wet fabric clinging to her skin.
“You should get out of your clothes,” William said suddenly, his voice unusually gruff. Eris blushed, turning to stare at him with wide eyes.
“What? Absolutely not! I will not be ruined in such a way, My Lord,” she retorted, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
William met her gaze with a sly grin, his eyes wandering over her soaked form. “I think, Eris, you might find it rather enjoyable to be ruined by me.”
His words hung heavily in the small space, their implications making Eris blush even more. She was keenly aware of the sheerness of her wet dress, the damp fabric revealing more than it concealed. William’s gaze was intense, his usual calm exterior replaced with predatory hunger. She shivered, torn between the fear of impropriety and the desire burning in the pit of her stomach.
She marched to the door and stepped out only to gasp as the wind whipped a particularly large splash of rain across her face. Her dark curls instantly became soaked and plastered to her cheeks. “Goodness!” she exclaimed, attempting to shield herself from the elements with her arms.
His rich laughter followed her as she dashed back inside, her cheeks burning from more than just the chill of the rain. “So defiant yet so delicate, Miss Eris,” he observed, his grin wolfish as he closed the door behind her. His gaze was drawn once again to her soaked gown, an undeniable appreciation glinting in his eyes.
“Lord Thornhill,” she retorted, standing tall and meeting his gaze. “Your shameless ogling is hardly gentlemanly.”
“Is that so?” He advanced on her, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Then allow me to be the perfect gentleman and help you out of these soaked clothes.”
The small hut seemed to shrink around them, the sounds of the storm outside acting as a dramatic backdrop to the tension building inside. Eris could feel the heat of William’s gaze on her skin, making her stomach twist with a strange mix of fear and excitement. She had been in close quarters with him before but never like this. Never with the air so charged and his stare so intense.
“Lord Thornhill…” she began, her voice wobbling slightly. She hated the vulnerability in her voice, the way it gave away her uncertainty.
“William,” he corrected her, stepping closer. She could feel the warmth radiating off his soaked body, making her hyperaware of the close confines of their shelter. “You have called me that before. Do it again.”
“William,” she repeated, her breath hitching as he moved even closer, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Yes?” His voice was soft, but it echoed in the small space, overwhelming her senses.
“I… I…” She could not put her thoughts into words, the proximity to him, the desire in his eyes, and the rain drumming against the hut, creating a symphony of confusion in her mind.
Before she could complete her sentence, William’s hand reached out, brushing a loose, damp curl from her face. His fingers traced a path down her cheek, causing her breath to hitch. His touch was electrifying, setting her skin ablaze where his fingers made contact.
“I…” she tried again, but she was cut off as William’s other hand gently grasped her waist, pulling her closer.
She could feel the heat of him, the steady rhythm of his heart against her own erratic one. Their faces were inches apart, his breath fanning across her lips. His eyes flickered to her lips, lingering there before meeting her gaze again.
“Tell me to stop, Eris,” he said, his voice low and husky, “and I will.”
Her breath hitched, her mind spinning with the implications of his words. She wanted him to stop. She knew she should want him to stop. But as she looked into his eyes, saw the desire mirrored in her own, she found she could not voice the words.
“Tell me.” he urged again, but his words faded as the space between them disappeared.
His lips met hers in a soft, almost questioning kiss. When she didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened, his hands pulling her even closer. The world outside the hut ceased to exist. There was only William and the storm that raged around them, matching the one that was beginning to stir within her.
Rain pounded against the wooden slats of the small hut, thunder crashing in the distance, but it was nothing compared to the storm raging inside Eris. His hands slipped under her soaked cloak, wrapping around her waist, pulling her body flush against his. Heat blossomed where their bodies met spreading a warmth through her that eclipsed the chill from her wet clothes.
He tasted of the morning’s tea and something richer, something uniquely William. Eris let her eyes flutter shut, giving herself over to the sensations, to the feel of him against her, his warmth, his strength.
His fingers traced a fiery path up her back, causing her to shiver despite the warmth flooding her. She gasped into his mouth, her hands grasping the front of his soaked shirt as a thrill of anticipation swept through her.
She had always been aware of William, of the dangerous allure he presented, but she had never let herself imagine this — the feel of his hands on her, the taste of him, the sound of his ragged breaths matching hers.
One of his hands ventured upwards, fingers brushing the soaked fabric covering her chest, making her gasp and arch into his touch. The hand at her waist tightened, his own gasp echoing hers. It was an affirmation, a sign that he, too, was lost in this moment.
But even as she reveled in the feel of him and the taste of him, a small voice in the back of her head began to shout its protests. The implications of their actions, the potential consequences, they all came crashing back. She was not some love-struck maiden who could throw caution to the wind. She was Eris Saffron, her family’s last hope.
With a strength she didn’t know she had, she pulled back, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Her hands still clung to him, her body still yearned for his touch, but she forced herself to step back. “We can’t,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the cacophony of the storm, but she knew he heard her. She could see it in the way his eyes darkened, the way his hands fell from her body.
But even as she said the words, as she acknowledged their truth, a part of her longed for him. And as she looked into his eyes, she saw the same longing reflected back at her. They were two people caught in a storm in more ways than one. And even though she knew she had made the right choice, she could not help but wonder what might have been if circumstances were different.
