Chapter Fourteen
T he hottest duke she had ever seen had his mouth suckling her nipple. Her body felt faint at the thought, but her mind would not succumb to darkness because it wanted to be alert for every lick. Every nibble. Every—
“Ah, Wesley. Oh my God.” He sucked on her other breast, while his hand kneaded the first one. As if his mantra were no throb goes unattended .
In that case, maybe she needed to keep giving him an indication that there was an ache, much lower, and much throbbier, that needed consideration. But could she be so wicked as to ask for attention to be paid to that part of her? A part of her that she herself hardly ever touched. And certainly no one else had noticed. How could she be so wicked—
A groan thrummed through her. He didn’t need any instructions apparently. His fingers danced across her mons, presumably looking for the buttons to her falls. Once found, he tucked his fingers under the fabric and slid a finger down in between her curls.
One hand on her breast. One hand playing with her core. And his mouth, searing into hers. He had said kissing was not an attack, but this felt like a full onslaught of sensations, in the best possible way. If it was a battle, it was one she was absolutely willing to yield to. Let the man do as he pleased, for everything he touched ebbed and flowed with ache and stimulation.
He was devouring her with his mouth. Something about her, about her body at least, appealed to him. He was like a starving man being presented a feast. His finger was sliding between her folds, down and up. When he rubbed back up her, ooh so deliciously slowly, his thumb tapped gently on her nub. And then circled around it. And then circled it, and oh, her body was laid siege. He groaned into her mouth and pressed her harder against the wall. She could feel his throbbing member against her thigh.
With no understanding of how to alleviate the ache she suspected he had, she yanked on his shirt and clawed her hands down his chest, which dislodged his mouth from hers.
Thankfully, it was for only as long as it took for him to grumble, “You are a goddess.”
She ran her hands down his chest. Through his soft curls. Needing him. Wanting more touch. More exposure. Real closeness. His body was perfect. A thought she had never considered about a man that she knew. A Corinthian body. Only taller than her by a few inches, but stronger by half. In his arms, she felt small, but fierce. Womanly. He had tapped into her body, and somehow that was transferring to her mind and heart.
A goddess he had said.
And she felt like one. Only in his arms. Powerful. Coveted.
He was the man with the highest standards of anyone in the ton , yet he was here. There was nowhere else she wanted to be. Ulterior motives forgotten. Dares forgotten. Fencing forgotten. Kissing lessons forgotten. Everything but his touch. Forgotten.
Maybe there was a chance he liked her. It was the most ridiculous thought. Regardless, it nestled itself in her head. No, it burrowed itself in her head like an ant set on finding and building a home for its queen.
His mouth trickled down her neck for a soft bite. But she longed for his mouth and moaned his departure.
“I’m here,” he mumbled, returning to her lips.
Every possible way to find closeness to him. She opened for him. Hot. Wet. And down in her core, she felt herself change. Soften. As her body responded to his touch, she felt the pinnacle was just out of reach.
“Wesley,” she murmured against his lips. “Wesley.” It was a plea. “Wesleeeey.”
And he knew how to answer her pleas.
She yanked her lips from him and shouted. Absolute release. A complete and total loss of control. It was nothing she had known before. Her body shuddered. She had given a part of herself to him that she could never get back.
He had defeated her, and she had never known defeat could feel so sweet.
*
They were supposed to attend a garden party that afternoon, Boudicca and her sisters. The Countess of Linsgate always threw a splendid garden party. Slightly knobby chairs, but the food was always delicious, and the guests always handpicked.
After the kissing lesson however—which really, how could she call it a lesson anymore?—she wasn’t too keen on a garden party. She felt a starry eyed dreamer, wanting to sit in her room and relive the kiss over and over again.
But she wouldn’t.
It had been a lesson. He hadn’t indicated otherwise. So she needed to treat it as such and move forward with her life. Perhaps one lesson would suffice. Lord knew it would suffice for providing memories for quite a while. If that’s all it amounted to, that was acceptable. Maybe more so than acceptable.
“Boudicca,” Artemisia shouted from the bottom of the stairs. “Are you ready yet? The carriage is ready.”
Ladies do not shout , Boudicca wanted to cant back. Instead, she took an extra moment to reaffix a bow in her hair, and then she strode down the stairs. She was in for an afternoon of tedious gossip, which would require fastidious vigilance of her daydreaming.
Joan glanced up, “Boudicca, you look lovely.” There was some astonishment in her voice.
“It’s just an old dress.” She was an idiot for saying that. Her sisters knew her wardrobe, and she was not wearing just an old dress. She was wearing one of her best dresses for a garden party. Not an evening gown, but something with a little more scandal than she might otherwise have worn had she not been kissed senseless so recently.
Boudicca hoped that the ride to the garden party did not portend the afternoon’s events, for she was being bombarded with questions. Some subtle, while others not so much.
“Was the duke here this morning?” Subtle. From Joan.
“Yes. We had a nice match. I think he’s improving his skills.”
“Is that his goal?” Zenobia asked, innocently, yet coyly.
“He’s very competitive. His goal is always to improve.”
“Sounds like you.” Zenobia said. “He’s known to have incredibly high standards. You’re quite special to have garnered more than one visit. Let alone four.”
“Seven.” That correction had been a mistake.
“You’ve been counting?” Mimi was on the edge of her seat. “So you like him then? I mean, who doesn’t? But still… you like him. Imagine, the two people among the ton with the highest standards falling for each other. It makes sense I suppose.”
“I’m not falling for him.”
“Right.” Not so subtle. “Have you kissed him?” Mimi stared directly at her.
There was no hiding it. Oh, she tried to hide it. Good Heavens, how she wished she could have hid it. Soon it would be known that she, the eldest, the spinster, the good girl, the one keeping them all in line, the prim and proper one was…a wanton.
“Oh my God, Bodi! You did kiss him. I can’t believe it.” Mimi’s limbs were swinging. Nobi retreated to the squabs to avoid a finger in the eye.
And Boudicca thought Mimi was going to add, How could you? I can’t believe it. You’re such a canting hypocrite.
Instead, she added, “I can’t believe how happy I am for you.” Was that a tear she saw in Mimi’s eyes?
“It’s not that big of a deal.” Wait. That was also the wrong thing to say. Kissing was a big deal.
“It’s a bit of a deal,” Joan said with a smile. “Did you like it?”
“How could I not?” The words slipped out, causing the sisters to chuckle. She was so lucky to have such a tight-knit family with sisters like friends. Often she felt too greatly the responsibility of being the eldest. Leading the way. Modeling the best behavior. It was a relief to let go and just be. Just feel. Just do.
It was not the way of the ton . But it should be the way of their family.
“So it’s a real thing, then?” Nobi asked.
She shrugged. “Honestly, I have no idea what’s real anymore. But my feelings, I guess, are real.”
Mimi was crying. Boudicca saw her swipe at her eyes.
“What are the tears for?”
“I’m just so happy for you. You deserve to be happy. I hope it’s true love.”
“Thank you.” While she didn’t think it was true love, maybe it was, just a little more than like. “Now dry those eyes, we have a garden party to attend.”
The sisters alit the carriage, Mimi discreetly fanning her eyes (as inconspicuous as that motion can be). Immediately, they were greeted by their hostess, and the Countess of Linsgate was exceptionally loquacious today.
“It’s a delight to have you four here. I believe I have the perfect guestlist today.” Her hands were a flutter, almost a clap, but no sound.
“My daughter, Lady Simone, as I’m sure you know, has her pick of all the eligible bachelors. And then some.”
Lady Simone was quite lovely. Almost the opposite of Boudicca. Petite brunette to Boudicca’s tall blonde.
Unsure of how to respond to the countess’ claim of and then some , Boudicca merely nodded her head.
After greeting their hostess and finding a table, the sisters sat amiably and chatted with a few friends.
“Remember not to stare at him, Zenobia. Christopher will make his way over here eventually. He’s a friend.” Boudicca half-admonished, half-encouraged her sister.
“I wonder who he’s with…all I can see are the backs of their heads.” Mimi was straining her neck and altogether staring at Christopher, albeit not all doe-eyed like Nobi.
“They’re all dukes. The Betting Buddies I hear them called,” Joan said.
“You do? Where do you hear them called that?” Mimi curiously turned her attention to Joan.
But Joan merely shrugged. “Around. If you were a bit older…” she let the teasing phrase hang in the air.
“I’ve been around nearly as long as you have.”
“Sisters,” Boudicca hissed, “please keep it to yourself. I’ve never heard of them, and I’ve been around the longest. Joan’s probably pulling your leg. If you let go, she’ll fall on her bottom.” She threw Joan a smile, and the sisters continued their bickering in a hush.
Boudicca brought her teacup to her lips, and trembled at the thought of her kiss earlier. It wasn’t as easy as she had hoped to not think about him. His thick rippling muscles and his sandalwood scent. With an inhale, she could practically smell him. Perhaps another guest in attendance wore a similar fragrance to him.
Him.
There he stood. Right in front of her. He dipped his head and gave a half smile.
Mimi was giddy beside her. “Did you see that?” she hissed at Boudicca as if her heart wasn’t already in her throat.
Wesley tipped his head to one of the refreshment tables with raised brows. Oh my God, he wanted to speak to her again. Now. They had just seen each other a couple of hours ago. His gesture had communicated a question, so she nodded.
She tried not to watch as he approached the refreshment table, filled a plate, and sauntered over to them.
Ever the gentleman, he greeted those at the table and then set before her a plate of pistachio ice.
Her favorite. He remembered? She had mentioned it, but it had been so brief.
Her eyes sought his, unable to hide the question.
“It’s your favorite, right?” he whispered.
He eased himself into the chair beside her. And from the half-lidded look he was giving her, she thought for sure he was going to feed her a spoonful.
Thank God for Mimi. “How lovely! I didn’t realize they had ices.”
“Just served,” he said.
“And pistachio. That’s Bodi’s favorite.”
“Really? I had no idea.” He turned to his own flavor, white coffee, and took a bite.
Mimi poked her in the ribs and whispered, “I think I know something real when I see it.”
“He’s just here as a guest. He’s here for the”—she strained to think of what he could possibly be here for when saying tea party didn’t quite fit—“fun.” That was bathetic.
“Right. And I’m here for the comfortable chairs.” Mimi scoffed. “He’s here for you, Bodi. Just accept it.”
Well, he wasn’t here for fencing. And likely not kissing. So…perhaps, just maybe, he was here for her. She smiled.
“That good?” Wesley leaned closer, brushing her arm as he moved.
“Delicious. Thank you.”
“You mentioned you were coming today.”
Her heart pounded. He was here just for her. That notion was surreal. A dream. A fantasy. Something she had given up long ago. Or maybe, had never even truly allowed herself to have. Adonis had his eyes set on her. Her head was swimming. She took a quick look around and noticed several discrete pairs of eyes on her. The Countess of Linsgate. Lady Simone. And a few more envious looks. She had never been the center of such attention and envy. People vying to catch a glimpse of something that would later turn into gossip.
She had to maintain a prim and proper disposition. It had never been more difficult. It had never been easier than with him.
“Do you really like the white coffee, Your Grace?”
His eyes didn’t budge from hers. “It’s delicious. I think I want more.”