Page 73 of A Literary Liaison
Elisha’s breath caught audibly in her throat. Edgar’s hand stilled, and for a moment, neither moved. The air between them grew thick with unspoken words. She could hear his breathing, slightly uneven, matching the rapid flutter of her own heart.
“I fear the stain may set,” she managed to say, though her voice emerged husky and strange to her own ears.
“Indeed.” Edgar straightened slowly, his usual grace somewhat diminished. He ran a hand through his hair, disrupting its careful arrangement. The resulting dishevelment only served to heighten his appeal, much to Elisha’s dismay.
When he returned to his desk, the room seemed larger and colder for the distance between them. Elisha rose on unsteady legs, smoothing her skirts with damp palms. She made her way to the bookshelf, feeling his gaze follow her movement like a physical caress. Her fingers trailed along the leather spines, unseeing, as she struggled to calm her racing pulse.
She reached for a volume at random, using the moment to gather her composure. As she turned, she caught Edgar’s reflection in the darkened window. He appeared to have abandoned all pretense of work, his heated gaze fixed upon her with an intensity that made her fingers tremble on the book’s spine.
Returning to her seat, Elisha tucked an errant curl behind her ear, the pins in her hair now hopelessly loose. The copper strands caught the candlelight, gleaming like newly minted pennies. Throughlowered lashes, she observed Edgar’s chest rise and fall with what seemed like quickened breaths, his right hand clenched upon the arm of his chair until his signet ring appeared to press white marks into his flesh.
The candles burned lower. Wax dripped like tears down their sides. Yet neither made a move to depart, caught in this delicious tension that crackled between them just like the lightning illuminating the room. Each glance exchanged added fuel to the fire building in Elisha’s chest, propriety warring with desire as the night drew its dark velvet cloak around the study.
The grandfather clock in the hall struck ten, its sonorous chimes breaking the spell that held them bound. Elisha started, her book nearly slipping from nerveless fingers. She had not read a single word in the past quarter hour, her mind consumed by the overwhelming presence of the man across the room.
“I fear I have kept you overlong,” Edgar said, his voice rough with what sounded like poorly concealed emotion. He stood, adjusting his waistcoat with hands that seemed less steady than usual. “The hour grows late.”
“Indeed.” Elisha rose as well, gathering her papers with careful movements that belied the chaos of her thoughts. A loose sheet escaped her grasp, floating to the carpet like a fallen leaf.
They both moved to retrieve it, their hands meeting over the errant page. Edgar’s fingers were warm against hers, slightly calloused despite his noble birth—evidence of his fondness for riding. The touch lasted barely a heartbeat before propriety forced them apart, but it left Elisha’s skin tingling as though branded.
“Edgar,” she whispered, his name a forbidden pleasure on her tongue. The single word seemed to spark something within him. In two fluid strides, he closed the remaining distance between them.
“Tell me to stop,” he breathed, his face mere inches from hers. The heat radiating from him made her head spin. “Tell me this ismadness, and I shall leave this instant.”
Instead, Elisha found her fingers curling into his coat lapel, the fabric warm from his body. Her heart thundered against her ribs like a wild creature seeking escape. “I cannot,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “God help me, I cannot.”
Time seemed to slow, then stopped entirely. Edgar’s hand rose to cup her cheek, his touch featherlight, as though she were spun glass that might shatter at any moment. His thumb traced the curve of her cheekbone, leaving trails of fire in its wake. Elisha’s eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, a soft gasp escaping her lips.
“Look at me,” he commanded softly. When she did, the raw hunger in his gaze stole what little breath remained in her lungs.
“Edgar,” she breathed again, and this time he moved like a man possessed.
His lips met hers with desperate intensity, months of restraint crumbling like ancient stone. One hand tangled in her hair, loosening what remained of her pinned curls, while the other pressed against the small of her back, drawing her closer until she could feel the rapid beat of his heart against her breast.
Elisha melted into him, her hands sliding up to his shoulders, feeling the coiled strength beneath fine fabric. His kiss was both gentle and fierce, reverent and demanding. He tasted of fine brandy and desire, and she found herself intoxicated by the combination.
When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Edgar rested his forehead against hers. His usually immaculate hair was mussed where she had threaded her fingers through it.
“I must stop,” he whispered hoarsely, though he made no move to release her from his embrace. “You—”
Elisha silenced him with another kiss, this one slower, deeper. She poured every unspoken word, every stolen glance, every midnight dream into it. His groan of surrender rumbled through his chest, and his arms tightened around her waist.
When they parted again, reality began to seep back in. She became acutely aware of their compromising position, the danger of this attraction. Yet she could not bring herself to regret it.
“We can never go back from this moment,” she said softly, her fingers straightening his lapels with trembling care.
Edgar caught her hand in his, pressing a fervent kiss to her palm. “I do not wish to go back,” he said, his voice carrying a conviction that sent warmth spiraling through her chest.
A noise in the corridor outside snapped them apart. They stood staring at each other, chests heaving, as footsteps passed by the study door. In the flickering candlelight, Edgar looked wild and dangerous and utterly irresistible.
“I should retire to bed,” Elisha whispered, though every fiber of her being protested the very thought.
“Yes,” Edgar agreed, his Adam’s apple bopping as he swallowed. “Though it takes every ounce of my willpower to let you.”
She gathered her papers with unsteady hands, acutely aware of his presence behind her. As she reached the study door, his voice stopped her.
“Elisha.” She turned to find him watching her with an intensity that made her knees weak. “Dream of me tonight.”
