Chapter Sixteen
T his was different.
Melissa had been tangled in a mess, but she didn’t expect the tangles to materialize and tie her to John. Angus dashed off with only a small bit of yarn and tugged it so tight that Melissa inhaled sharply. She couldn’t help but press her body against John’s as they were both standing straight, tied together by the mischievous kitten—or was he actually a brilliant one?
It was all a bit literal for her taste, especially considering that she’d thought about tying the knot with John and the impossibility of it all—until Angus tied the knots around them.
And now her stomach was in knots. Oh, she had to stop using mixed metaphors lest she speak one out loud.
“Well, what a tangle,” John said.
Melissa lost control and burst out laughing.
“If anyone needs us right now, we have to tell them that we’re tied up,” Melissa could barely speak as she was shaking in mirth and couldn’t even lift her hands to cover her mouth.
“I don’t mind being tied to you,” John mumbled.
What was that?
“I’ve been quite in knots over you for a while,” Melissa mumbled back. A truth barely voiced but heard.
But then she decided not to question the lucky card Mrs. Dove-Lyon had dealt her. Especially not where John had sent the maid away, which made it clear that she wasn’t going to return.
Something bulged against her thigh and twitched.
Oh dear!
She looked down and saw her half-naked legs in nothing but lace garters and stockings pressed against John’s. It would have been scandalous, but it wasn’t as though she could jump away and feign embarrassment.
When she looked up, John’s piercing gaze had turned black. His lovely dark eyes complemented the blond hair, but he was changed. Gone was the strictly combed hair, the clean shave, and the aristocratic superciliary glance he’d had the first time she saw him. Now, his hair had dried in an unruly mess, and there was a slight stubble on his jawline. Saving her in the early morning had most likely derailed his usual morning routine. He looked unkempt, wild, and bewitchingly handsome.
“How did this happen?” he rasped, looking around the room at the utter disarray.
“He likely got a ball of yarn when I came upstairs and then—”
“No, I don’t mean Angus. That’s obvious. I mean this.” John pressed his middle against her and brought his arms to her back. Only his legs and his back were tied, his arms free.
Melissa sighed.
I fell in love with you and made a mess. I am not sure how it happened, but I can’t deny it either.
John’s breath was warm against her face, sending a shiver down her spine. Melissa’s heart pounded as she struggled to find the right words. She felt the heat of his body, the tautness of the yarn binding them together, and the unmistakable desire that surged between them.
“I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “One moment we were merely acquaintances and the next… it’s like something changed, and now, here we are.”
John’s grip on her tightened, and Melissa could feel the hard muscles of his chest pressed against her softer curves. His eyes bore into hers, searching, questioning, perhaps seeing more than she wanted to reveal.
“Melissa,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “This cannot be.”
She nodded, unable to tear her gaze away from him. “Yes, but what if it’s also destiny?”
He let out a soft chuckle, the sound vibrating through their entwined bodies. “Destiny has a strange way of making itself known in the form of an older lady in a blue building at St. James, doesn’t it?”
Melissa shrugged. “A little help from a friend is not forbidden.”
John exhaled and gave her a knowing stare. “Did you ask for me?”
Yes.
But she decided it wise to make sure he was speaking about what she was thinking. If his mind wasn’t exactly aligned with hers, this situation would quickly grow unbearable.
“For you to what?” Melissa’s voice had come out too high, betraying that she feigned ignorance.
He narrowed his eyes. “I mean, did you ask for me?”
Melissa swallowed.
“As a person?”
“Aa a man. A husband.”
Yes, their minds were aligned. There truly wasn’t anywhere to hide, so Melissa couldn’t tell but the truth. She bit her lips and considered her choices. She could say yes, and this would grow terribly awkward in a spiffy, or she’d say no, and he’d untangle himself and leave her standing naked and embarrassed—or worse—jilted. And that wasn’t at all what she’d wanted to do.
“John,” she murmured, “I never meant for this to happen. I never thought you would—”
Oh!
There was an idea—a twitching one that reminded her of its presence.
So she lifted her shoulder, freeing her right arm just enough so she could slide it into the tightness between her belly and John’s middle.
His stomach muscles tensed, but he didn’t move.
So she slid her hand lower until she found his waistband.
“Melissa,” he rasped, his eyes fixed on her nimble fingers.
He seemed to hold his breath, still motionless.
Her gesture was crystal clear. And he didn’t object.
So she ventured lower, past his waistband, into the warmth of his middle, and then she found his manhood—a hard club that could have been made of marble if she didn’t feel it throbbing with life and heat.
He let out a guttural moan and shifted, as if he tried to give her better access. Encouraged by his unspoken permission to proceed, she wrapped her hand around his shaft. How could its skin be so soft and yet the muscle so rigid?
Melissa searched his eyes, but only she could see warmth and black hunger. His only free hand moved slowly, tracing the curve of her back, sending sparks of sensation through her. She bit her lip hard, trying to control the whirlwind of emotions inside her. There was a rawness, an intimacy, a closeness that stripped away all pretenses.
The sexual tension between them was palpable, a living, breathing entity with power of its own.
“I don’t know how to untangle this,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
“Neither do I,” he admitted. “But perhaps we don’t need to. Perhaps we need to tie the knots tighter, however unconventional it might be.”
Melissa’s eyes fluttered closed as John’s lips brushed against her forehead, a tender gesture that spoke volumes. There was only the two of them, bound together by fate and circumstance—otherwise known by the names of Angus and Mrs. Dove-Lyon.
Their plays on words quickly became a play with fire. John’s heart skipped a beat at her touch. He had dreamed of this, but feeling her now seemed surreal and too good to be true. Still, he felt liberated by the admission; it had to come out, and now that some of it had, he wished he could say it all. And that growling voice of reason had to be stifled for now.
But then Melissa tensed her shoulder and looked strained. Because of the yarn, she didn’t seem to have the free range of motion her hand needed to fully explore him. John grabbed a bunch of the yarn without regard for where it led and where the knots sprang from. He twisted his hands to grab more and put tension on them. Melissa was nudged further against him, and he cherished her closeness, but he wanted her to be in control, not the yarn.
So he tore it. His hands burned for an instant, but they finally heard a rip, and the sections he’d held gave way. Melissa gasped and immediately reached for his hands.
“Are you hurt?”
He shook his head and instantly missed her intimate touch down there as soon as he lost it, but it was replaced with genuine concern. She cared for him in a way he hadn’t dared to hope for, and that meant much more.
Pieces of yarn sank lightly to the floor all around the room. She was no longer forced to stand as close to him as she did, but she didn’t withdraw when he put his hands back around her waist.
“See, now you’re no longer tied to me,” he said, trying to mask the sorrow in his voice because he wished nothing more than to be tied to her in return—tightly and permanently.
She tensed her forehead and pressed against him, her missive clear. She sought his closeness, too.
He searched her eyes for signs of protest, but when none were evident, he placed a careful kiss on her lips. In return, she rewarded him with a smile, and she brought her arms to the back of his head.
“John,” she began, her voice trembling, “what if this doesn’t work?” She dropped her gaze, and he realized that his breeches were still untied.
“It definitely works. I’m not that old, you know. Not even thirty.”
She chuckled and then sucked her cheeks in as if he’d given her a decadent menu of dessert options. “But what if we’re making a mistake?”
He pulled back slightly, looking deeply into her eyes. “We’ll never know unless we try. I tried to step away from you and couldn’t. I don’t want to. Life is full of uncertainties, but one thing I am certain of is my feelings for you. I am willing to face whatever comes, as long as it’s with you.”
Tears welled up in Melissa’s eyes. He knew it wasn’t from sadness but from the overwhelming surge of love and hope as her chest filled with air and she pressed herself against him. Despite the chaos surrounding them, despite the absurdity of their situation, there was a clarity in John’s words that resonated with them both.
“Because of my situation, I didn’t think you would—”
“Would what?” he interrupted gently. “Care for you? Desire you? Melissa, I knew you were different from the moment I saw you. And now—” He leaned closer, his breath mingling with hers. “Now, I can’t imagine a life without you. I’ve fallen so deeply in love with you.”
She nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. “Then let’s face uncertainty together because I love you, too.”
John’s heart pounded in his chest as he pressed Melissa against the ornately carved bedpost, his hands splayed across the bones of her stays, feeling the warmth of her body beneath.
Her breath came in shallow gasps, each exhale brushing tantalizingly against his ear. He slid his hands up her thigh, marveling at the softness of her skin above the garters. His fingers traced the elegant curve of her bottom, a wave of sensations sending desire straight to his core.
But it had all been there for a while already.
Melissa’s eyes locked onto his, a mixture of longing and uncertainty within their depths. Her lips were slightly parted, her cheeks flushed with a beautiful shade of pink that heightened her natural allure. John felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her, to claim those lips as his own, but he held back, savoring the anticipation that hung between them like a charged current.
It was different now. They’d opened their hearts, and there was no rush. Their future, however complicated, was theirs to claim.
As was this moment.
Slowly, almost hesitantly, Melissa’s hand moved to his waist. He sucked in a breath as her fingers found the opening of his shirt and slid in. The touch was featherlight, almost tentative, as if she were testing the boundaries of this newfound intimacy. John’s stomach and chest muscles tensed in response, a low groan escaping his throat as her hand slipped further beneath the fabric.
The sensation of Melissa’s fingers brushing against his skin sent jolts of pleasure coursing through him. Her touch was gentle yet insistent, her fingers exploring the contours of his abdomen with a curiosity that made his pulse race. He forced himself to stay still, to let her take the lead, even as every fiber of his being screamed for more.
John’s grip on her back tightened involuntarily, his fingers digging into the soft flesh just enough to anchor himself in the moment. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart against his chest, a rhythm that matched his own frantic pulse. The intimacy of the contact, the closeness of their bodies, created a heady mix of desire and tenderness.
Melissa’s hand ventured lower into his breeches, her fingers grazing the hard length of him. John’s eyes closed, a shudder running through him at the exquisite sensation. He could feel her hesitation, the slight tremor in her hand as she wrapped her fingers around him. The touch was real and grounding, a reminder that life with her would be exciting and so wonderful, as if his heart had a second wind.
He opened his eyes, finding her gaze once more. There was something profoundly intimate in how she looked at him; a vulnerability mirrored his own.
Melissa’s thumb brushed over the tip of him, eliciting another low groan from John. The pleasure was almost overwhelming, a crescendo of sensations that built with each purposeful stroke of her hand. His breath came in ragged gasps, his body straining against the restraint he had imposed upon himself.
“Melissa,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “You’re driving me mad.”
She smiled, a shy yet confident expression that only intensified his yearning. “Good,” she replied softly, her fingers continuing their slow, deliberate exploration.
John leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers. The gesture’s intimacy, combined with her hand’s thrilling touch, created a moment that felt suspended in time. He wanted to remember every detail—the warmth of her skin, the scent of her hair, the way her body molded perfectly against his.
He shifted slightly, his hands moving to cup her face. The tenderness in his touch contrasted with the raw desire coursing through him, a duality that defined their relationship. He kissed her then, his lips capturing hers in a passionate and reverent kiss.
Melissa responded eagerly, opening her mouth beneath his to deepen the kiss. Her sweet and intoxicating taste fueled the fire within him. Their tongues danced together in a familiar and thrillingly new rhythm.
Despite the raging desire, John controlled his movements, his hands caressing rather than claiming. He wanted to savor this moment, to prolong the exquisite tension that made every touch, every kiss, a heady mix of pleasure and emotion.
When they finally broke apart, both gasping for air, John rested his forehead against hers once more. Their breaths mingled, the closeness of their bodies a comfort as much as it was a source of longing.
“I’ve never felt this way before,” she admitted in barely more than a whisper. Melissa’s eyes softened, her hand still cradling him with a gentleness that belied the intensity of their feelings.
At that moment, with yarn around them as if they’d been caught in a web, John knew that what they had was rare and precious.
They stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside fading away. In the intimacy of her chambers, they had found something beautiful and enduring—a connection that transcended mere physical desire and touched the very essence of their souls.
Every kiss was a promise, a beginning, a new chapter in their lives. And they didn’t go any further. There was no haste.
The future seemed less daunting as they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms. They would face it, side by side, bound by love stronger than any yarn.
But the mess they’d gotten into still had to be untangled…