Page 171 of Too Good to Be True

We hit the Wine Room to Richard’s hypercritical glance that we were all twenty minutes late.

And one could say that Portia and Daniel might be over it, but I wasn’t, nor were Richard and especially Lady Jane. She was so cool to her youngest son, it could have frosted the windows. And Daniel might not be the brightest bulb in the box, but it was so obvious, even in his bad-boy-forgiven mood, he didn’t miss it.

The night went to shit from there, alternating between awkward silence, stilted conversation, and Lady Jane doting (in her own inimitable way) on Ian, me as well as Portia, to the obvious exclusion of Daniel.

But at least we’d scored a box of condoms from the affair, of which we’d already used two.

I turned my head to look at him. “I don’t want to talk about Portia and Daniel.”

“Just assure me you’re okay and I’ll drop it.”

God, I liked this guy.

“I’m okay, baby,” I told him softly.

He kissed me.

I turned so he could do it pressed up against me.

When he released my mouth, he said, “So about these dreams,” while skimming his hand down my side, then up, and curling it to trail his knuckles along the side of my breast.

I shivered and replied, “Well, Augustus might have been frolicking with his children, but Adelaide was reminiscing about him going down on her that morning, fucking her on the dining table, eating her out in a dark parlor at some ball, and fucking her ass bent over his desk in the study in their room.”

He grinned and rubbed his thumb over my nipple.

I trembled and pressed tighter to him.

“You have quite the imagination,” he remarked. “But I can confirm he went there. How he referenced it was ‘your darkest secret, my dearest, that I treasure and only I can invade.’”

Sounded like it.

“Have you memorized their letters?”

“Pretty much. I discovered them when I was fifteen.”

“Randy, teenage soon-to-be earl, I can see it,” I quipped.

He smoothed his hand down my belly and curled it in at his destination.

I gasped.

“Randy, indeed,” he murmured.

I rocked into his fingers.

“Leg over my hip, sweetheart,” he ordered.

I did as told.

“I want you in my mouth,” I requested.

He put his lips to mine and said, “Later.”

“You can do this while I do that.”

“I wouldn’t be able to concentrate.”

“Ian—”

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