Page 50 of Sinfully Wed
Instead, Emerson took Odessa’s hand and stumbled his way through the other dancers, dragging her to the other side of the room. She did not look up to see where he took her. Nor did she care.
Emerson pulled her down a partially deserted hall before he stopped abruptly in front of a narrow space. A darkened alcove where no one would ever look.
Odessa caught sight of a small painting before he pulled her inside. A dog. The artist had done a poor job. “My lord,” she started, gasping as Emerson pressed her back against the wall.
He pulled off one glove, using his teeth, and tossed it to the floor.
Oh, dear.Her entire form throbbed gently in response.
The tip of one roughenednakedfinger trailed along Odessa’s cheek and traced the outline of her chin.
“What are you doing?” she gasped, unable to do anything other than inhale his warm scent. Odessa stretched along the wall, her breasts touching the edges of his coat. This was entirely wicked.
“Touching you,” he ground out. “I’ve wanted to for some time, but you’re always so distasteful. Covered in tiny bumps and smelling like a root cellar whenever I call.” The finger rubbed along the edge of her cheek, and she turned into his hand. “I thought it strange, at first. The way your skin glows, like a freshwater pearl. It never fit with the rest of you,” he whispered.
A wave of attraction for him washed over Odessa. Fierce. Sharp. And she was unable to push it away. She wanted so badly to be repulsed by Emerson.Hatehim. Not be aroused by the lightest touch of his fingers. “I meant why did you take off your glove?”
“Because you like my hands. I’m not sure why. They aren’t the hands of a gentleman.” The finger fell to the edge of her bodice, dipping briefly beneath the silk at her neckline before his entire hand moved further, cupping the underside of her breast. Emerson squeezed gently, as if inspecting a plump peach. His thumb flicked over the satin covering her nipple, teasing at the spot.
Tiny halting breaths left her at the sight of those large fingers closing over the plump globe of her breast. The sensation of his thumb brushing purposefully back and forth drove a lightning bolt down between her thighs. “No, they are not the hands of a gentleman,” she agreed. Odessa should tell him to stop, but the words refused to form on her tongue.
“I’m going to prove a point.” Emerson didn’t sound happy, as if he caressed Odessa against his better judgment. But he never paused in the careful, sensual perusal of her breast. “Has Phillips ever touched you?” His voice was rough. “Anyone else?”
Odessa thought of Jacob, her father’s groom. The collection of stolen kisses over the years, all of which had failed to move her. “No.”
A sliver of light fell over his mouth as he leaned forward, gilding the sensual lines of his chin and lips. “We do not have to be at odds, Odessa,” he murmured. “I would prefer we were not.”
Odessa jumped at the flick of his tongue along the curve of her ear. The warmth of his breath falling over her neck. His thumb pressed firmly, stroking over the silk where her nipple peaked and begged for his attention.
“I—my affections lie elsewhere.” She’d been so sure that was true, but Captain Phillips left her unimpressed tonight. Nor did he bear her any great interest. Another ruse of Odessa’s, believing she could entice Captain Phillips into compromising her.
“I don’t believe you.” He pinched at the silk, grazing, and circling the taut peak of her nipple. “You wish to avoid marriage. I assume the reason to be defiance. Disobedience.” He drew his teeth over the skin of her earlobe. “You don’t want to wed a man of Angus Whitehall’s choosing. As it happens, I don’t care for your father’s manipulations either.”
Odessa sucked in a breath, her lips parting as Emerson’s head tilted, his mouth mere inches from hers.
“No tar. No onion. Not an oozing pustule to be found. Much more to my liking.” Soft heat descended on her mouth, moving with wicked deliberation across her lips. He took his time, savoring Odessa, drinking her in like a glass of fine brandy.
She sagged against the wall, hands clutching at the edges of Emerson’s coat as her knees buckled at the onslaught of his mouth. His teeth grazed along her bottom lip, sucking the plump bit of flesh into his mouth.
Odessa whimpered, grabbing at him with desperation. She wanted more of him. All of Emerson.
“You are delicious,” he rasped at the corner of her mouth. “So much better than that little peck in the garden allowed me to believe.” His tongue dragged along the seam of her lips, coaxing her to open. “I want to taste every inch of you, Odessa.”
Yes. Please.
Odessa had never given much thought to the sensual, sexual part of her nature despite having a chaperone like Aunt Lottie and Odessa’s obsession with a gentleman’s hands. Emerson awakened every depraved thought Odessa ever had. She moaned, trying to press herself as close to him as possible. Rubbing shamelessly against his chest, no longer plain Miss Whitehall, but some sensual creature Odessa hadn’t known existed. The ache she’d felt earlier resurfaced with pulsing intensity. She kissed him back, moving sinuously as their tongues tangled together, moaning softly when he rocked their hips together.
Emerson broke away, the harsh sound of his breathing echoing in the small space.
A whimper left her. “Emerson.”
“Damn,” he swore softly, once more slanting his mouth over hers. His hand curled around her throat, the rough pads of his fingers pressing into the skin of her neck.
Yes. Please.
A sound came from Emerson. Primal. Raw. It conjured sinful thoughts of her and Emerson, his glorious hands trailing over Odessa’s naked skin, their bodies sliding over each other as he pleasured her. When his free hand moved along the curve of her abdomen, she twisted in the direction of his touch. He cupped her sex through the silk of her skirts before pressing the heel of his palm firmly into the ache between her thighs.
Odessa’s head fell back, meeting the pressure of his hand.
