A Rivalry of Hearts

Chapter 24

With one arm, William pulls me against him. With the other, he shuts the door behind us. My hands come to his chest as he shifts to the side and leans against the closed door, pulling me with him. His posture is loose and relaxed. Maybe even relieved. He now has both arms around me, and he throws his head back, an easy chuckle escaping his lips.

I frown up at him. What’s come over him? He’s grinning like he’s won when I’m the one who redeemed my pass. Sabotaged his plans.

Or…

I glance around the room. It’s identical to mine, with two beds and an assortment of fine furnishings. Only one lamp is lit on one of the bedside tables, casting the room in a dim warm glow. There’s no sign of anyone else.

I return my gaze to William and narrow my eyes. “Where’s Zane?”

He lowers his chin until those blue irises fall on me. His triumphant smile remains. As do his arms around me. The way he holds me, his grip firm yet relaxed, the way he stares down at me with that smile, almost feels like a weathered embrace. Familiar. Comforting. Like it’s effortless for him to touch me like this.

It’s my posture that’s tense. My hands that burn against the firm musculature of his chest, even with the linen shirt that separates our flesh. My breaths that are short and jagged. I’m the only one of us who’s discomposed.

He shrugs. “Zane is probably in their room by now.”

“Their room? Weren’t they planning on staying in yours tonight?”

“Nope.”

“But Monty said…” Suspicion darkens my thoughts. I recall wondering if he knew about the free pass after all. “Monty tricked me.”

“Did he now?”

My posture slackens, my eyes going unfocused. “Whose side is he on?”

“Yours, obviously. He wanted you to sabotage me and maintain your lead. Zane, on the other hand, is on my side. They proposed I stir your jealousy. Though…that might have been Monty’s idea. They were whispering together for some time. Come to think of it, Monty might be on my side too…”

His grin turns smug. He’s clearly enjoying this.

I level a glare at him. “You tricked me. You all tricked me. I redeemed my free pass for nothing.”

His gaze grows heavy, flitting from my eyes to my lips and back again. “Oh, I wouldn’t say this is nothing, Weenie.”

I push off his chest and he releases me. “Now that you’ve all had fun at my expense, I’ll be on my way.” I step back and plant my hands on my hips, waiting for him to move away from the threshold.

He doesn’t.

Still leaning against the closed door, he folds his arms and crosses one ankle over the other. “You said the words. You redeemed your pass, and it is now in my possession. Yet you haven’t claimed your act of physical intimacy, which means you’ve yet to accumulate a point.”

My mouth falls open, and I gesture at his body. “You hugged me.”

“That wasn’t much of a hug.” Finally, he steps away from the door. “If you really want to waste your free pass, by all means, leave without claiming your point.”

I glance from him to the door. I could stride past him and leave my humiliation behind. But my pride is greater, and he knows it. I can’t leave without taking advantage of the lead I so badly want.

And there’s still another flicker of want inside me, the same excitement that drove me to his room tonight. He may have succeeded in tricking me, but I still desire more of him, for reasons I’ve yet to fully acknowledge.

“Fine,” I say, doing my best to keep my voice steady. “Let’s…perform an act of physical intimacy.”

The triumph returns to his expression. “What act shall it be? You redeemed the pass. You get to choose.”

“Did we establish that rule?”

“I just did.”

He’s really going to make me say it. I bite the inside of my cheek as I gather the courage to speak. “A kiss, then.”

He steps closer, his voice dipping low. “Take the lead. Show me what you like. Show me where you want me to kiss you.”

I nearly sway on my feet at the last part, conjuring thoughts of the less obvious places I could get him to kiss. He’s already pressed his mouth to my knuckles, my neck, and now my lips. Only now do I picture that mouth trailing over my stomach, my breasts, then between my legs.

Heat burns at my core, screaming, Yes, that. But I can’t request that. I’m not brave enough. Not yet. More than anything, I want to start with a true kiss. I want to experience an encore of what we began in the bookstore.

I hold his gaze, trembling as I step closer to him. He’s so much taller than me that even if I stood on my tiptoes, I couldn’t reach his mouth without his aid. He seems to realize this at the same time, closing the remaining space between us and bracketing my waist in his hands. Then he leans down, angling his head until our faces are only inches apart. He freezes then, like he did during our performance when he was waiting for me to catch up with the scene. Damn him. He’s really going to make me make the first move.

My heart pounds faster. Harder. My head swims. I lift onto my toes and press my lips against his. My courage leaves no sooner than our lips meet, along with the strength in my legs. I pull away and take a step out of his grasp, my head light, my breaths short. What the hell is this? Am I fucking swooning? Is swooning a real thing?

“All right, well…” I wring my hands, wincing at the quaver in my voice. “There it is. That was the kiss. I have my point, so?—”

“No.” William’s stern tone has my mouth snapping shut. “That wasn’t a real kiss.”

“Uh, I think it was,” I mutter, looking anywhere but at him.

“I thought this was what you wanted,” he says. “Don’t you want to know what it feels like to be kissed by a fae? Really kissed by a fae?”

A fae…right. My research. In this moment, I couldn’t care less about that. I want to know what it feels like to be kissed by him. And maybe that’s the problem. Initiating the kiss myself made my head spin, while being kissed by him only filled me with desire.

I take a few deep breaths, gathering my resolve. “Show me a real kiss then.”

“You want me to take the lead?”

I wring my hands again. “Please.”

A gentle smile warms his lips as he places his hand over mine, stilling my anxious motions. “So, we’ve learned something you like already.”

I swallow hard. “I suppose we have.”

Tenderly, he takes one of my hands, brings it to his lips, and brushes a soft kiss over my knuckles. Then he brings his fingers to my neck, dipping them beneath the collar of my coat before he slides it down my shoulders, my arms, letting it fall to the floor at my feet. His hands find mine again, and he guides one behind his neck while pulling the other to his chest. His heart slams against my palm, a rhythm that matches my own. It’s a comforting tempo, lulling me back into my body and out of my head. With my arms remaining where he positioned them, he winds his own behind me, one hand bracing my lower back, the other cradling my neck. He pauses here, holding my eyes as I catch my breath. Then, ever so slowly, he lowers his mouth to mine.

I close my eyes at the warmth of his lips, sinking into the feel of him against me, the strength of his hands pressing me close. He angles his head, and I do the same, deepening our kiss. Without meaning to, I slide my fingers up his neck, into the ends of his hair, much like I did in the north wing. He releases a throaty sound against my mouth, one that has my lips parting. His tongue sweeps in and brushes against mine in a languorous caress. There’s nothing forceful or probing about the way he kisses, unlike my former lovers, Archie included. With William, it feels more like a dance, a conversation. A reaction between our needs, our wants. A song and echo. His mouth somehow does exactly what I want it to, our kisses deepening only when I’m ready. Wanting. Silently begging to taste more of him.

His fingers weave into my hair, sending pins falling to the ground. His other hand roves my bottom, and I’m cursing myself for the warm layers of petticoats I wear beneath my dress. I let my hands wander too, one rounding the curve of his shoulder while the other explores the planes of his chest, his torso. His muscles flex against my palm, which sends a thrill through me. I let my hand move lower, down to his waistband. He sucks in a breath, emboldening me. I kiss him harder, move my hand lower, until my palm cups the firm length straining against his trousers.

Bloody hell, it’s a mammoth handful.

And…and it’s straining like that for me. My touch. My kiss. We’re still fully clothed, yet he’s hard for me.

I run my hand further down his bulge and back again, assessing the full scope of what he’s hiding.

He groans, sucking my lower lip between his teeth. So he likes that.

I tighten my grip and stroke his length again.

He releases my lip and pants against my mouth. His hand leaves my neck to linger over the clasps at the back of my dress. His words come out stifled. “How far do you want this to go tonight?”

I pull back slightly, taking in his heavy-lidded eyes, the need written over every inch of his face. “What do you mean?”

His fingers dig into the back seam of my dress. With the flick of his forefinger, my top clasp comes loose. “I can have you out of this dress and spread naked beneath me in ten seconds flat. If you don’t want that, tell me now.”

I suck in a sharp breath at his words, at the images they conjure, at the restraint in his tone.

Pride swells inside me. “You want that?”

“You know damn well I want that,” he says, rocking against my hand to remind me of the proof in my palm. “But if you’re not ready…fuck, just tell me. I’ll hold myself back.”

I’ve never felt so powerful. So desired. So in control. I needed him to take the lead, but now that I’ve found my footing, I don’t want to cede to him. Cede this power.

And as much as I want what he wants, I should leave him yearning for something more to redeem his free pass for.

“Let’s keep our clothes on,” I say, voice breathless. “Just kissing and touching.”

“Can I touch you?”

“Over my clothes,” I say, delighting in his groan of frustration, the way his fingers curl into a fist against my back, fighting not to flick open another clasp. I move my hand up the length of him again, then to his waistband. He bites his lip as I tuck two fingers beneath it. I give him a teasing smile. “Can I touch you?”

His eyes dance with cruel amusement. I can almost see his thoughts on his face; he’s considering denying me the same way I denied him. He blows out a shaky breath before answering me. “This is your free pass. You get to make the rules for what we do.”

“Good.” I press my lips to his again, just as I plunge my hand into his trousers. I suck his lower lip between my teeth, something I’ve never tried before but want to experience now that he’s done it to me. He aids my efforts to untuck his shirt from his trousers, flicking open the top buttons of his fly.

A moan escapes my lips at the feel of his hard flesh fully in my palm. His cock is somehow larger than it felt from the outside. I slide my hand up and down that smooth length. I’m half tempted to cup his testicles like I saw in the north wing, but I’m too afraid he might laugh, shattering the moment. The last thing I want to do is something he doesn’t like. Not when I have him at my beck and call. Not when he’s panting, moaning?—

“Edwina,” he says through his teeth at the next slide of my hand. “Wait. Fuck.”

He surges against me, his cock pulsing in my palm. He tugs down the hem of his shirt to bury his release, his other hand closing tightly around the length of my hair that’s escaped my updo. It takes me a moment to understand what happened. The reason he’s frozen against me, catching his breath, head thrown back, eyes closed, his muscles quivering.

Then he lowers his head, heavy eyelids fluttering open. I slide my hand from around him, and my gaze drops to the hem of his shirt. My mouth falls open. “You…you came. Because of me. I did that.”

A slow smile melts over his lips, and when he speaks, his voice is rich with mirth and the dregs of desire. “You seem quite pleased with yourself.”

“I didn’t know that was possible. Drawing out a man’s release with one’s hand, I mean. I’ve written about it, sure, but I’ve never done that before. I didn’t know I could make it feel good.”

“It doesn’t normally happen that way,” he says. “As in I normally last longer. Much longer.”

My eyes go wide as I analyze the new information. Already, a potential scene for my next book plays out in my mind. “To confirm what you’re saying, I made you come quickly? That was fast for you?”

“Yes, would you like a medal?”

I smirk. “If there was one, I’d take it on a plaque.” I shift to the side and angle my hands like I’m framing something over a mantle. “Edwina Danforth made William Haywood come with her hand in three seconds flat. I’d hang it in my parlor for all my guests to see.”

He snorts a laugh. “I’ve lost you now, haven’t I?”

I lower my hands from my imaginary award and arch a brow in question.

He sobers from his mirth and shakes his head. “I thought we were only getting started, but that damn pride of yours has overridden your desire.”

I blush, realizing this probably isn’t the reaction he expected from me. Or perhaps he did. I’ve always handled sex differently than I assume other people do, and William saw a hint of that in the north wing. Yet it doesn’t mean I’m devoid of desire. I felt it, hot and heavy with him, and it’s still there. Alongside it, though, is a well of exhilaration. Wonder. Power. I now have firsthand experience—in the most literal sense—that I can use in my writing. My fingers itch to draft out some ideas.

William brushes a strand of hair off my brow, and I recall how that same hand struggled not to rip open my clasps. “There were things I wanted to do to you tonight,” he whispers.

My pulse quickens. Maybe my need to write hasn’t overridden my desire after all.

Then again, I like the way he’s looking at me. The yearning in his eyes as he studies my lips. The quavering restraint in his touch as he brushes his hand over the length of my tangled hair.

I still hold power over him, and I’d like to keep it a while longer.

I tilt my chin and part my lips. He starts to lean in when I press my forefinger to his mouth. “If you want to do such wicked things to me so badly, you’ll have to redeem your free pass.”

He groans against my finger and heaven above, I almost give in. Almost beg him to let me coax more moans from him. Beg him to take me to his bed and show me everything he wants to do to me.

With a heavy sigh, he steps back. “Let me change my shirt. I’ll walk you to your door.”

“You don’t have to be such a gentleman,” I say as I sink down to gather my coat from the floor. I drape it over my arm and rise to my feet. “I only touched you?—”

My words lodge in my throat as my eyes find him, back turned to me as he tugs his half-unbuttoned shirt over his head. The dim lamplight illuminates the peaks and valleys of his muscled back, the flex of his shoulder blades as he tosses his shirt to the side and gathers a fresh one. He turns to face me as he throws his arms through the sleeves, and I get a full view of the front of him. My gaze slides down his pectorals to the deep V above his still-open trousers.

I’ve seen him shirtless before, the morning after I got drunk on Cloud Dive and allegedly threw up on him.

But I didn’t desire him then. Not as deeply as I do now.

He catches my open-mouthed stare, and his lips curl in a teasing smile. Making no move to button the front of his shirt or his trousers, he says, “Changed your mind?”

I blink and tear my eyes from his physique. “Nope.”

He chuckles to himself and finishes getting dressed. I’m still amused by his insistence on walking me to my room, but I make no argument as we leave his bedroom and cross the short distance to my door.

I seek my key from my coat pocket, my hand brushing his poetry book in the process. I grin, recalling all the ridiculous writings we exchanged today. After I unlock my door, I shift to face him. “Well…that was?—”

He bends down and silences me with his mouth. His hand cradles my jaw, and I part my lips, inviting his tongue at once. The kiss is deep and demanding. Heat sparks inside me, from my chest to the pulsing want that reignites between my legs. Even after everything we already did, after I thought I’d cooled my ardor, I still want him so badly.

Too soon, he breaks the kiss, panting as he rests his forehead against mine.

“You didn’t redeem your pass,” I whisper, my hands clenched around his collar, ready to tear off his buttons should he say those two words. “This doesn’t count.”

He brushes his thumb along my jawline, then over the bottom curve of my lip. “It’s just practice,” he says, pressing his lips to mine once more before pulling away completely and returning to his room.