A Rivalry of Hearts

Chapter 29

My breaths come out sharp and jagged as my hands land on his chest. Inch by inch my skirt rises higher all on its own, hiking up my thighs as William steps in even closer. I press my back firmer against the elevator wall. My legs have nowhere else to go but around his hips.

His words hang between us.

Free pass.

“You can’t use it here,” I say, voice breathless. I’m not even sure why I’m arguing. Either my rational mind is overriding the desire tingling in my lips and core, or my wicked side is trying to delay William’s gratification. “This is neither of our bedrooms.”

“I’m adding a new rule.” Now that my legs are locked around his hips, he’s dropped his hands to the railing on either side of me, as if to keep himself from touching me more until I agree to let him. “The free pass can be redeemed in any private space, so long as it is after ten in the evening.”

His heart slams against my palm, even through the thick brocade of his waistcoat. I lick my lips, a movement he follows with his eyes. “What if the elevator operator stops to let someone else on? This is quite the compromising position.”

He leans in and drags his nose up the side of my face, then along my jaw. His hot breath has my lashes fluttering. “He won’t,” he says into the crook of my neck. “I gave him five citrine rounds to stop for no one.”

Five rounds? A single citrine round is worth ten chips. I tilt my head back, allowing him to burrow deeper against my neck. He still hasn’t kissed me, only grazed his nose and lips over my flesh. One of my hands moves up his chest to rest at his nape. My words become infused with a breathy whine. “You paid Mr. Tibbets to get me alone?”

He pulls back to hold my gaze, his mouth quirking at one corner. “We have at least five minutes if he takes us at his usual pace, but I told him to take his time. I intend to use every minute wisely. Now, do you agree to my new rule?”

My natural instinct is to argue more, but for once I don’t want to. I have no desire to delay his gratification. The heat searing between my legs tells me I’d only be delaying mine.

Which leaves me with only one answer I can give. “Yes.”

His lips crash into mine, and I part my mouth for him. My legs tighten around his hips as his tongue sweeps into my mouth in a welcome caress. He brings one hand to my cheek while the other skates up my bare side. I arch against him as his hand moves higher, grazing my ribs. He tucks his thumb beneath the front of my bodice, then traces the outer curve of my breast. Heat burns at the apex of my thighs, and I squeeze him tighter with my legs, desperate for some friction. Too many folds of my lace skirt remain between us, giving me only the slightest relief when I rock my hips.

The motion reminds me of the railing I’m propped on and I suddenly picture us from a distance, hyperaware of how sexy this is. I can imagine one of my heroines doing this, though I never could have envisioned an elevator before seeing one firsthand. Yet as I continue to picture how we look together, a scene unfolds in my mind’s eye. Maybe between Johannes and?—

“I’ve lost you, haven’t I?”

I blink, finding William’s face before me. His lips are pink and swollen, his eyelids heavy. Only now do I realize I’ve stopped kissing him and have been staring into space, lost in my imagination.

“I’m sorry,” I rush to say, my words still tangled in breathlessness. I may have stopped kissing him, but my arousal hasn’t abated. I merely drifted elsewhere in my mind. I worry my bottom lip, finding it slick with moisture. I release a few panting breaths. “I do this sometimes when I’m aroused. I start getting scene ideas.”

He tilts my chin gently with his fingertip, expression warm and still rich with desire. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s my duty to bring you back to me and keep you present in your body.”

I’m taken aback. I expected him to step away, set me down, and give me the cold shoulder. It’s happened before. I’ve lost many a lover that way.

He keeps his fingertip under my chin while his other hand slides from my ribs to my back. He reaches one of the long ends of the bow that secures the neck of my gown. His hand leaves my skin. Then there’s a tug at my bow. With a second tug, the ribbon unravels, and the front of my gown drops to my waist. Cool air skates over my bare breasts. “Do I have your attention now, Edwina?”

I suck in a breath. This isn’t the first time he’s used my real unabridged name but hearing it while he stares at my naked chest, drinking in the sight of me like a starving man, sends my head spinning. Oh, I’m here all right. And as he leans down and takes my hardened nipple into his mouth, a shock of pleasure brings me close to the edge. This has never happened before. I’ve never experienced such heavy want that I’m at risk of release before a lover has even touched my sex.

A whine escapes my throat, and I throw my head back against the wall, eyes closed. One of his hands finds my calf, then my knee. It trails up the inside of my thigh, pulling my skirt out of the way in the process. His hand doesn’t stop until it reaches the outer hem of my silk panties. I’ve never been so grateful to be wearing the flimsy fae-style undergarments and not the ruffled pantaloons most women wear in Bretton.

He releases my nipple from the agonizingly delightful ministrations of his mouth to press a kiss to my neck. “I want to give you what you gave me the other night.”

My lips part to say yes. Oh, how I want him to do exactly that, but reason weaves its way through my desire. “We don’t have time,” I gasp, even as I roll my hips. Even as I silently beg him to touch me already.

“We have time, love. I’m not going to need much.”

“You’re awfully sure of yourself.”

“I am.” He brings his lips to mine, just as he slips his hand beneath my panties. The pad of his thumb finds my seam, stroking it, painting me with the slickness of my own arousal.

A moan escapes my lips. I encircle my arms around his neck, my fingers clawing into his hair.

“Fuck, Edwina,” he says against my mouth. “You’re already so wet. Is that for me? Or is that from watching your play?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know—” My words end on another moan as he draws circles over my sensitive apex. Bloody hell, he wasn’t wrong. We’re not going to need even five minutes, for I can’t possibly last much longer. He shifts closer, angles his hand, sliding another finger over me. He palms my sex, then dips one finger into my center, curling it deep inside me as he gently thrusts. I hug him closer, waves of pleasure coursing through me, gathering around that expert finger. I’m panting harder now, and he devours every breath with a kiss. I throw my head back again as the pressure builds. A cry erupts from my lips. “Will!”

He thrusts in a second finger, his thumb circling my clitoris, and I unravel around him, my climax radiating through my core, my very being. He dances with my orgasm, letting me ride his hand in waves until my shudders subside. Once I’m nothing but a limp, spent heap of flesh, he continues to hold me, planting gentle kisses on my cheek. After a few quiet moments, he helps me down from the rail and sets me on my unsteady feet.

“Turn around,” he whispers, gently guiding me until my back is facing him. He presses a kiss to my neck, then reaches for the fabric at my waist. Right, my top. He drapes my bodice over my torso, the lace skating over my sensitive nipples, then pulls both ends of the ribbon behind my neck. With slow, careful movements, he secures the bow. There’s something sweet about the gesture, about his gentle touch, in the wake of what he just gave me.

I’m about to face him again, to thank him—whether for the orgasm or for tying my bow, I know not—when he clasps me around my waist and pulls my backside against him. He hugs one arm over my middle, while the other slides under the front of my bodice to cup my breast. He brings his mouth to my neck, lightly grazing it with his teeth.

A thrill moves through me at the heated one-sided embrace, and it only grows when I feel the hard length of him pressed into me, straining against his trousers.

“Please use me soon,” he says into my neck. “I need more of you.”

I angle my head and meet his lips with a kiss. What I wouldn’t give to use him right now. To hike up my skirt and let him take his pleasure however he wants it. But I think we both want more than what the remainder of our elevator ride can provide. Our time must be close to its end.

Sure enough, the motion of the elevator stutters, slows.

We break our kiss and William releases me, sliding his hand out from under my dress and leaving my skin cold in his absence. A second later, the door opens and Zane’s apartment comes into view. I don’t see anyone as we step into the room, which sets some wicked ideas into motion?—

“You’re back.” Daphne’s voice greets us from one of the chandeliers. Its light has been turned down to the faintest glow.

Just like that, my devious plans to finish what William and I started evaporate. We’re not alone, and the others will be back soon if they aren’t lurking around this enormous open space already.

William’s hand grazes my back in a comforting gesture, along with a smile. One that holds sweetness and secrets and the promise of more to come. Another night. I return the grin, and he gives me one last lingering look before he saunters away, loosening his cravat.

“What did you two do tonight?” Daphne asks as she drops to the floor. There’s no innuendo in her voice, but my cheeks heat just the same.

“Oh, uh, we saw a play. A burlesque adaptation of The Governess and the Rake.”

“Hmm, maybe I should have gone.” She springs across the floor and settles onto one of the windowsills at the far end of the room. She lowers her voice to a curious whisper. “I wonder when Monty will be back. He better not be up to something idiotic.”

I stroll to the nearest divan and lay back upon it, unable to pay attention to anything but my racing heart and my need to sprawl out in the wake of my pleasure. I throw a hand over my eyes as I slow my breaths, but William fills my mind.

That was…incredible. I’ve never experienced such full-body immersion with a lover before. Such euphoria. Such need. I want more, and not just the pleasure. I want to exchange more secrets too. I want to learn more about him and tell him more about me. I want to hear him tell me I’m beautiful and rage at those who’ve slighted me.

He’s right about what he said earlier; whatever is going on between us feels like more than friendship. It’s warmer than a rivalry, and what we did in the elevator wasn’t even close to hate-sex. If I take any ideas of hate or rivalry away, doesn’t that leave just sex? The way my heart continues to flutter feels more than just anything.

What is it then? What can it even be? It’s not like there’s a future between us. Only one of us will win the publishing contract. If I lose, I won’t have Mr. Fletcher to advocate for my citizenship, for he has no reason to unless I’m going to write more books for him. Which means I go back to Bretton. Sure, there’s a chance I could eventually secure a lesser contract with Fletcher-Wilson or apply for citizenship on my own. But how long could that take? I’ve fallen in love with Faerwyvae. With the different courts, the freedoms, the variety. And, yes, even my own fame. I need to live here.

I must win the contract.

But if I do…

Will William’s resentment return?

Or would he be happy for me?

Could we find a way to make this work between us?

I bite my lip as a giddy lightness sweeps over me. The fluttery feeling lasts for all of a minute before it drains beneath my dawning terror. I’ve felt that bubbly excitement before. I told William about it tonight. It’s a feeling I hate. A feeling I fear. I can’t let myself go down that road ever again. I can’t fantasize about a future William hasn’t offered. I’ve already had one offer of love revoked, so even if William did claim to want more than sex from me, can I even trust those desires will last? Sooner or later he’ll see the side of me that Dennis Feverforth saw. Some way I’ll fail to measure up to his expectations.

With a sigh, I calm my racing thoughts, my overactive imagination, and remind myself what this really is.

Research and a pleasurable escape.

That’s all it needs to be.