Page 64 of As the Earl Likes
He took his hand from her, and she nearly asked him to put it back. Raking it through his hair, he ruined the style somewhat. “This is unsustainable. We must put an end to this farce.”
Jo saw the anger and worry in the lines in his brow. She lifted her hand from his arm and brushed his hair back into place. “I can manage. Perhaps we can just keep our engagements to the park.” Except she could just as easily face a Lady Balliol and her superiority there.
Too late, she realized the nature of his expression had changed. The anger and worry were gone—mostly—and had been replaced by hunger. Heat blazed through her, and she knew she had no time to lose if she wanted to escape before she broke her own rule.
The rogue rules flashed in her mind. She was alone with him. She would gladly flirt with him. And if she wasn’t careful, she was going to give him a chance…
To kiss her, at least.
“You should go,” he rasped.
She gentled her hand against his head and slid it down the back, tucking it into the top of his collar until her palm met his nape. Unfortunately, she had not removed her glove as he had.
“I should, but I won’t. Not just yet.” She stood on her toes and angled her head slightly before pressing her lips to his.
His arms came around her, pulling her body against his. The contact with him intensified her longing. She pressed her fingers into him and slid her other arm around his waist.
Eyes closed, Jo reveled in his embrace. His lips moved over hers with devastating precision, stirring her desire. She opened her mouth to deepen the kiss, and it was all he needed to claim her mouth completely.
She was suddenly swept into a realm of dark need and brilliant ecstasy. Her body ached for his, to be possessed in the same way he’d taken over the kiss she’d started.
His hands clutched at her back and backside, pressing her into him so she could feel the hard length of his arousal. Jo kissed him ravenously, as if it were the most important thing in the world—absolutely vital to her survival. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the two of them together, demanding, giving, sharing, relishing.
Voices sounded from somewhere along the corridor. They broke apart, their breathing rapid. Sheff stepped back, his hand moving across his mouth as he worked to catch his breath.
Jo brushed her fingertips along the sides of her mouth and inhaled deeply. “Sorry,” she murmured. “That was my fault.”
“Don’t ever apologize for kissing me. As you could tell, I didn’t mind.”
She chanced a look at him—she didn’t want to, for fear she’d leap on him again, but they could not continue. His expression was sardonic, his eyes still glowing with heat.
“I am going to leave the ball now, if that’s all right with you.”
“You don’t ever need to ask me permission for anything either,” he said. “How will you get home?”
“I’ll walk if need be,” she said drily despite being quite serious.
He pulled on his glove and offered her his arm. “I’d take you, but that would be potentially ruinous since this betrothal is fake. I’ll find someone to convey you.”
She put her hand on his sleeve. “Thank you.”
“I’ll fix things with my mother,” he said as they walked back toward the ballroom.
Though Jo couldn’t imagine how, she knew he would try. She felt quite badly for him, because while Jo’s time enduring the duchess was temporary, poor Sheff had to deal with her forever.
Somerton and his wife had taken Jo home from the ball last night, leaving Sheff to decide if he ought to confront his mother or wait until the following day. But here it was Sunday, and Sheff hadn’t been able to bring himself to go to Henlow House. The disgust and anger he felt toward his mother was too great. Greater than he’d ever experienced. Indeed, he wondered where the woman he’d grown up with had gone. She’d never been this vitriolic or awful, even when Sheff’s father was at his worst.
Why did she loathe Jo so very much?
It wasn’t just that Sheff was upset by the duchess’s attitude. He was hurt. Because Jo was an extraordinary woman. She was helping him, and she’d been a good friend. Sheff had grown to care for her.
Deeply.
So, he’d spent today focused on her instead of his mother, and he didn’t regret a moment. What he did regret was bringing Jo into the mess of his life. But he would end that tonight.
She’d asked him not to end the scheme, and he would not. At least not immediately. He would leave London, however. Then his mother would leave Jo—and him—alone.
Tomorrow, he would travel to Weston for the remainder of the summer. For the first time in his life, he would seek solitude and quiet contemplation. Away from his parents. Away from Society. Away from his own reputation.
