Page 37 of A Literary Liaison
It was a terrible idea. She knew it even as she nodded, even as she allowed him to lead her outside toward his awaiting carriage. Every step seemed to echo with warning, yet she couldn’t bring herself to stop.
The duke helped her into the carriage, his presence overwhelming in the confined space. Elisha sat in one corner, trying to keep some distance, but he sat beside her, his eyes somehow dark yet smoking like hot charcoal.
“Mr. Thornton seems quite protective of you,” he said.
“He has been very generous,” she said carefully, not daring to meet his eyes lest he scorch her. “TheMetropolitan Reviewowes him a great deal.”
“And you? What do you owe him?”
She turned to face him, finding him closer than expected. “Nothing.”
“Then why does Thornton behave as though he owns you?”
“I don’t know.”
“If you don’t have an understanding, do you hold any affections for him?”
“No. Not at all.”
“Good. And do you hold any affections for me?”
“Edgar,” she breathed. “I ought not to. We shouldn’t be here at all.” Yet she made no move to step away, her knees pressed against his, her heart thundering.
His hand came up to cradle her face, thumb brushing her cheek. “Tell me you feel nothing for me, and I’ll walk away. Tell me you prefer his touch to mine.”
“I—” The words died in her throat as his face lowered toward hers.
Time seemed to stop. His mouth was hot and soft. His embrace was at once gentle and fierce, tender yet demanding. Her senses swam as the walls of propriety crumbled around them. His hand caressed herthighs and buttocks, firm and possessive. Before she knew it, he had her straddling his lap. His hand then unbuttoned her bodice, spreading the thin fabric apart, exposing her breasts.
“Edgar…”
When he drew back, the raw longing in his gaze made her heart clench. The world narrowed to just the two of them, everything else falling away in a rush of sensation and need.
Wordlessly, he claimed her mouth again and his hand squeezed her breasts. His mouth then drew in her nipple, pinching with his lips, brushing lightly with his teeth.
“Edgar, that’s… Oh my…”
Her fingers clutched at his shoulders as waves of feeling crashed over her. His mouth knew exactly when to nip and when to suck. Each motion of his tongue pushed arousal toward her groin, her core aching, her thighs wrapping around his waist and writhing against him.
“Blast it, Elisha. You’re sin itself.”
Edgar pushed his aching hardness against her heat and continued his assault on her nipples.
“You’re my undoing, Elisha,” he breathed against her skin. “My sweetest torment.”
Their breaths mingled, hearts racing in tandem. “When he stands near you, when he dares to touch you… remember this moment, remember my mouth on your flesh.”
Edgar was careful not to ruin her coiffure or her dress but his need of her was evident. It wasn’t long before she stiffened against him, her moan scraping against her throat, muffled by his hungry mouth. Her hips lifted to meet his hardness, to ease the hollow ache deep within.
Her breathing gradually steadied, but she felt the tension radiating from his body, heard the ragged edge in his voice as he whispered, “Be mine, Elisha.”
The words she’d longed to hear, yet they pierced her heart likethorns. “To what end?”
“I cannot promise matrimony, but I can promise love and devotion.”
Pain bloomed in her chest, sharp and crushing. She forced herself to shake her head, though every fiber of her being screamed to accept whatever scraps of happiness he offered. “No. If you can’t make me your wife, you shall not have me at all.” Her voice quavered. “Please do not seek me out again. It will only make my heartache worse.”
She felt his reluctance in the way his hands lingered as he released her, saw how he gathered his aristocratic mask around himself like armor. But beneath that careful composure, his temple pulsed with barely contained emotion, and her heart ached to smooth away the tension there.
