Page 20 of Winning the Wallflower's Heart
Georgiana glanced up at him, her hands gripped tightly on the edge of the desk, and he was once again held captive by her beautiful brown eyes.
“I haven’t seen you,” she said softly. “Have I upset you?”
“Upset me? How?” he asked.
“I realize when we married that we agreed to separate lives, but we live in the same building, Ellis. I thought I would at least see you.”
“Yes, I?—”
He swallowed hard and glanced back up at her. There was a fire in her eyes tonight, and a determined air clung to her in addition to a beautiful new gown.
“I see you’ve been to the modiste,” Ellis said, desperate to change the subject. He didn’t want to admit to her that he had been avoiding her. Somehow, he felt that gave her too much power.
“I have,” she said, and she pushed off the desk and stood, closing the distance between them. In the low candlelight of his office, the shadows danced across her skin and made her blonde hair shine like gold.
His wife. That voice, that annoying reminder, hadn’t gone away in the three weeks since their wedding.
Yes, his wife, but he had promised to protect her, and he didn’t trust himself to do that. He didn’t trust himself to stoponce he finally tasted her lips and fell into her kiss. A shiver raced down his spine at the mere thought of her fingers softly tracing his cheeks, cradling his jaw. No good could come of that—he was certain. This had been a business arrangement, and?—
“Ellis,” she said, drawing his focus once more. “I recognize what we agreed to, but I have to argue that you’re my only friend. I want to see you. I want to hear about your day.”
“My day is now,” he snapped, instantly irritated with himself. How quickly his calm faded away.
“I recognize that,” she said. “You’ve built a very successful club here, and I don’t mean to keep you. But if I didn’t seek you out, I know I wouldn’t have found you either. I live a floor above you, and I find myself not knowing anything about you. And now”—Georgiana held up an envelope—“I’ve received an invitation from a close friend, and I find myself wondering if I’ll be forced to attend alone.”
When she stepped a little closer, he watched her lick her lips slowly before she confessed, “I want to know about your day, and I want to hear your hopes and your dreams, and I want to hear about every inconvenience you face during the day. I want to hear your laugh. I want to thank you for the new paints and canvases, though there was no note. I know that was you.
“I came here to auction off my virtue, and I married you so you could protect me. But I’m begging you not to shut me away and keep me high on a shelf like some prize to be protected at all costs. It’s lonely up there, and I’ve spent too much of my life being lonely, Ellis.”
He found himself moving toward her without thinking until they were toe-to-toe, and a new perfume washed over him, claiming his senses, driving him nearly wild. He smelled vanilla, violets—like spring—and now that they were in the very beginning of winter, it was a hopeful thought indeed.
Could she draw him out of his shadows to claim his life once more, instead of moving around in the dark, hopelessly fumbling, pushing to succeed, determined to do his very best.
“I don’t want to be a burden to you,” she said. “And if you don’t like me?—”
“I like you,” he said, interrupting her. “I like you more than plenty, Georgie. It’s only—I don’t trust myself. For too long, I have put all of myself into building this club to become what it is, and having to let go of that, to focus on you?—”
“I don’t want you to do that.”
His eyes raked over her face, the apples of her cheeks. When she had arrived three weeks prior, she had been pale, and there had been dark smudges beneath her eyes and bruises on her limbs. Now she nearly glowed, and she smelled like heaven. He wondered if she tasted like the favorite tarts he had ordered specifically for her every day since they were married.
“And promise me,” she said, “that you will at least entertain the fact that you have a wife who wants to see you and hear you and be near you—not out of duty, but out of…”
She paused, and he found himself waiting for that word.
“Out of what?” he asked finally, his voice hoarse.
Her eyes slowly moved up his face to meet his, then slowly down to his lips. The very last threads of his control snapped as she whispered, “Desire.”
Ellis gently bent down, moved his hand to the base of her skull, and pressed his lips against hers. For one blissful, maddening moment, she sighed into his touch, melting against him.
It was not a hungry kiss, but tentative and tender, sweet like Georgie. Her lips were soft against his, and he pressed the kiss deeper, pulling her closer, erasing the small distance between them until her chest collided with his.
Because, suddenly, everything felt right.
CHAPTER 6
Georgiana was made of stars.
