Page 43 of The Secret Life of a Lady
Killian’s cock twitched to life. Ridiculous. To be aroused by a forehead wrinkle. ‘Your boot was showing. And as you are the only woman I know who insists on wearing men’s footwear, it was not difficult to determine your identity.’ Tsking, he shook his head. ‘Really, Miss Simmons. Such a disappointing lack of discipline.’
‘I am the only woman you know who wears sensible footwear. Men shouldn’t be the sole benefactors of adequate shoes.’ Anger heightened her colour and quickened her step as she swished toward him. She was wearing brown. Instead of diminishing her beauty, the simple dress highlighted her trim figure and contrasted with the dramatic colouring of her red lips and pearl skin. ‘I wouldn’t have to hide if you didn’t organise a meeting in Lord Cavendale’s study.’ She stopped in front of him, a finger pointed at his chest.
‘You can’t possibly be blaming me for this,’ he sputtered.
‘Why not? It’s clearly your fault.’
‘What exactly were you hoping to find?’
‘Hah!’ She dropped her accusatory finger and put her hands on her hips. ‘Like I would tell you.’ Her gaze dropped to his lips, and she licked her own.
Killian stepped closer, delighted when she didn’t back away. ‘Shouldn’t you be focusing your attention on Lord Bradford? What do you think you’ll find in Lord Cavendale’s study of all places?’
‘Did you not hear me the first time? I’m not telling you anything.’
‘I bet I could find a way to convince you.’
Her breathing accelerated, and he watched her cotton dress expand and contract. He wanted to see her naked in the sunlight. To see every detail of her bathed in brightness as her body quickened with desire.
‘I dare you to convince me of anything,’ she refuted. She never backed down. He’d not met a woman so willing and ready to spar. It was intoxicating.
Killian raised an eyebrow. ‘Speaking of dares. Did you take me up on mine?’
Hannah’s skin flushed rose, and her eyes darted away from him. She bit her lip. Her citrus and vanilla scent filled his lungs.
He wanted to taste her mouth, to trace her full upper lip with his tongue. Instead, he settled for seducing her with words. ‘You did, didn’t you? You found your treasure. Tell me, did you play with that sweet little pearl? Did you think of me while you were touching yourself?’ The image of her delicate, tapered fingers delving deep into the pink folds of her cunny almost destroyed him.
She returned his gaze and narrowed her eyes in a stubborn expression he was growing to crave. ‘You are despicable.’ She huffed out a breath. ‘How did you know?’
‘You can’t resist a dare, Miss Simmons. And neither can I.’
‘Now I know how to bring myself to culmination, what further use do I have of you?’ She raised an eyebrow, her amber eyes flashing in challenge.
‘Pleasuring oneself is akin to scratching an itch, don’t you think? Quick, efficient, perfunctory. But what we create together, increasing the ache until it throbs, sharpening the pleasure until it cuts, fanning the blaze until it consumes…’ He stepped closer with every incendiary word until they were a breath apart. ‘I promise I can be very, very useful. I propose a new game for us to play during our next flirtation. It would seem you have details about Sarah Bright that I need. For every piece of information you share with me, I shall kiss, lick, suck, and nibble that sweet little pearl of yours. Interested?’
Her mouth fell open in shock. He took advantage and nipped at her bottom lip.
Footsteps echoed in the hall. They both froze. They turned in unison, their gazes on the door. There was no time to hide. If Lord Cavendale or Alfred returned to the study, they would be discovered. The footsteps approached the door, then continued down the hall.
Killian and Hannah exhaled loudly in shared relief.
Hannah took a large step away from him. ‘We should leave. Separately. I’ll go first.’ Not waiting for Killian’s response, she walked swiftly to the door. He admired the sway of her hips as she retreated. ‘And yes, I might be interested.’ Without a backward glance, Hannah opened the door and slipped out. Almost as if she were conceding a battle. Almost as if he won this skirmish.
Hannah dressed carefully for the mid-morning activities. They would be riding horses to a picturesque valley next to a river. The household staff would already be there, preparing a picnic for the party.
If Hannah ever wondered what outfit she would die in, now she knew. A borrowed riding habit from Ivy Cavendale’s middle sister. Hannah was terrified of horses, and they loathed her. Every. Single. One.
‘Miss, if you keep twitching your leg like that, I’ll never finish. Please, could you sit still?’ Poor Betty had to re-twist Hannah’s hair for the third time. Hannah’s frantic leg shaking threatened to exceed the limits of her maid’s extensive patience.
‘You have always been remarkably silly when it comes to horses.’ Philippa sat on Hannah’s bed, slapping a riding switch against her leather boots. She eschewed the respectable riding habit for a pair of split skirts, fitted vest, and tailored greatcoat. On any other woman, it would cause a scandal, but Philippa made the entire ensemble look quite dashing. She finished the outfit with a tall riding hat.
‘Unlike certain duchesses, I was never given the opportunity to learn as a girl.’ Hannah heard the sharpness in her tone. She hated feeling inadequate and sitting astride a horse, she wasn’t just insufficient. She was woefully inept.
‘Yes, and despite many attempts from a certain duchess to provide lessons, you never took the opportunity to learn as a young woman. So, this is what you get.’ Philippa thwacked the riding crop against her boot again.
‘Thank you so very much for your empathy.’ Hannah ignored the precarious dip of her stomach.
‘You’re welcome. Now, did you learn anything from snooping in Lord Cavendale’s study?’
