Chapter Five
Where recklessness tastes like forever.
The kiss was a slip up. A blunder. A miscalculation.
It was also a revelation.
Dom’s hand swept to Louisa’s waist, anchoring her against him as he kissed like a man waking from oblivion.
He wanted to drown in the fiery silk of her hair, driven by reckless desire he’d buried so deep he thought it gone.
He hadn’t planned for the night to end in the taste of berries and champagne, with the only woman he craved parting her lips beneath his, yielding as if she’d been waiting her whole life for him.
How was a man who’d once been a slave to ruinous cravings supposed to say no to this?
“Sweet,” he murmured, giving up, giving in.
Angling his head, he deepened the kiss until the whole of her rolled over him like a wave.
Her sigh spilled into his mouth, and he savored it as if it were wine.
His hand slid from her jaw to the curve of her neck, thumb brushing the frantic flutter of her pulse, noting a speed that matched his own.
“Dom,” she breathed, her arm circling his neck, pulling him down to her. Their mouths fused fully then, tongues tangling, the kiss turning from starved to desperate.
He groaned, a raw sound dragged from his chest, answered by her own soft whimper.
The air grew thick with the scent of roses and passion, the faint mineral spray of the fountain misting their flushed skin.
Images of sending pressing body into the mattress as he thrust inside her lit his mind in charged flashes.
He wanted…he needed…
The moment spun, the tantalizing bits of her drifting over him like smoke.
Her plump breasts sheltering his beating heart; a silken strand that had escaped confinement dusting his jaw; her hand lowering to his hip, drawing him closer.
The heat of her seeped through every layer until he wondered if he’d ever be free again.
He thought he knew kissing. He thought he knew women. But she proved him wrong, kindling a fervor fiercer than anything he’d ever felt. She matched him, mirrored him, taught him, until every pale memory was obliterated by the force of real desire.
When Louisa swayed into him, Dom succumbed fully, recklessly, moving a hand to cup her bottom, lifting until she sat half-perched on his thigh.
Ivory silk flowed over them, her knee brushing his hip, and for one mad moment he thought of taking her into his lap, consequences be damned.
It was a provocation, but she fit against him too perfectly, as though every line of her had been fashioned for his pleasure.
When his second thought, but his first need, was her pleasure.
Moaning softly, palm braced on his chest, she shifted, her hip bumping his rigid shaft—a physical response he couldn’t possibly hide.
Pulling back a hairsbreadth, she glanced down.
“No,” he whispered, seeing the rebellious look in her eyes, though he’d like nothing more than to feel her slender fingers wrapping around his cock.
Refusing to surrender, he cradled her jaw, tilting her gaze back to his.
Leaning close, he whispered against the delicate shell of her ear, “Tonight, only this. Later, I’ll lay you across the biggest bed we can find, and I’ll make you scream, cry, beg.
And you can do the same to me. I’ve no quarrel with you having me in any fashion you’d like. Your fantasies will become mine.”
He didn’t watch his words consume her, because they’d burned through him first.
She let him draw her in again, the kiss deeper this time, until the world receded.
The ballroom’s music became a distant hum, laughter and conversation a far-off murmur.
Even the steady splash of the fountain dulled, as though sound itself bent to their passion.
All that remained was the silken slide of her lips, the playful brush of her tongue, the faint catch in her breath when he suckled her lower lip before letting it go.
Starting to lose too much of himself, Dom drew back.
Her eyes—green fire under moonlight—were glazed, lashes fluttering, mouth parted from the rough contact with his.
A lock of that unruly, ginger hair clung to her cheek, and he tucked it back with unsteady fingers before claiming her again, fiercer this time, as though he might devour her.
He wasn’t strong enough to resist a dream when it met him in living color.
This encounter needed a bedchamber and it needed one now.
A burst of raucous laughter split the air, the timing disastrous. Boots scuffed over gravel as a knot of people lurched into the garden. At their center: the Earl of Harcourt.
A shrill giggle rang out, belonging to a baroness Dom was quite sure his brother had tangled with years ago. “Lud, this ball is getting better and better. A duke’s daughter, carried off to the fountain like a barmaid at closing.”
“So, the Beckett reputation holds true.” Harcourt clapped his hands mockingly. “And I’m once again consigned to chasing a wealthy wife.”
Dom rose in a slow, lethal unfurling, Louisa gently placed behind him with a whispered, “Stay.”
Harcourt staggered closer, a smirk twisting his mouth. “Your family’s luck must have turned, old chap. Though between us, this bit of trouble, no matter the offering, may be more than it’s worth, if you take my meaning.”
Then he leaned in and whispered something only for Dom’s ears.
Upon hearing it, Dom’s hand shot out, clamping around Harcourt’s wrist, twisting until bone ground against bone. The earl dropped to his knees, his exhalation strangled into a hiss of pain.
“Apologize to my fiancée and the other, um, ladies in your party,” Dom said evenly, voice carrying with cold precision across the garden. “Or I’ll show you more of what I learned in those gaming hells besides how to win and lose fortunes.”
Harcourt’s face blanched, sweat cutting through the flush of drink. “Your…what?”
“My betrothed. My intended. Is hearing loss a concern as well?” Dom increased his grip, forcing a groan from the earl. “I’m losing patience, Harcourt.”
“Forgive me, Lady Louisa, ladies,” the earl ground out, breath shooting between clenched teeth.
Only then did Dom release him, smooth as silk, letting the Harcourt collapse to the earth with his pride in tatters.
He brushed his gloved hand against his coat as though wiping away filth.
“Good man. Now crawl back to the ballroom and keep that tongue leashed. I know well where to find you.” His frigid gaze swept the circle of onlookers.
“Would anyone else care to discuss the discourteous interruption of my proposal?”
Hushed murmurs rippled through the night as the baroness and two others stumbled forward to haul Harcourt upright. The earl clutched his wrist, face twisted in fury, but none dared speak. The group hurriedly dispersed, whispers trailing them like mist.
Dom dragged a hand over his jaw, fury simmering. Reckless. She carried it like a banner, and whenever they were together, he carried it too.
While Louisa seemed completely unperturbed standing there shaking out her skirts, fingers deft as she smoothed her magnificent hair into place.
Kiss-swollen lips curved, a smile dancing at the corners as though he’d offered another glass of champagne rather than an ill-timed proposal and the likelihood of being tomorrow’s leading scandal.
Despite his better judgment, his shaft twitched beneath the thankfully confining fall of his trousers.
Bloody hell, he longed to turn this chit’s rebellion into cries of pleasure. More the fool, he.
“They’re in the ballroom,” he snapped, turning away to adjust himself, voice rougher than intended, “telling everyone exactly what they saw. Nearly breaking Harcourt’s wrist doesn’t change that. He’s lucky I was feeling charitable.”
“That was charitable?” She laughed, more a snort through that adorable nose of hers, proving he’d been right about her carefree acceptance of this debacle.
But then, the girl was used to burning down houses and blowing up gardens in her spare time.
“Oh, the servants across town already know. I’ll get the evil eye from Pritchard this evening, no doubt. ”
“I wasn’t joking,” Dom whispered, not sure she understood.
Turning to her, he straightened the cravat she’d tangled about her fingers in her hunger.
“I’ll be at your father’s before the scandal sheet hits his breakfast table, and Bessie can occupy herself with her next marital scheme. Your search is complete.”
Louisa’s lips parted, eyes widening. “You mean to stand by me?” The question came out in a hush, wonder laced with disbelief.
If that miserable bit of sincerity didn’t bring her careening into his heart, nothing would.
Then, softer still, “I’m sorry, Dominic.
You’ve worked so hard to keep clear of scandal, and now, because of me—”
“Enough,” he cut in, hand lifting to halt the apology. Like his brother, he didn’t want to hear one. He took a step toward her, but stopped himself in time, jaw tightening. Another bit of Griff’s wisdom: you don’t always have to play the hero.
But he felt like playing the hero with her.
Dom’s gaze flicked to the fountain, where Louisa’s luscious body had been fused to his, and damn him if he didn’t feel heat rise in his own face. “I’m the one who took this too far. I should be asking for your forgiveness. You’re impulsive as all hell, true, but I should—do—know better.”
“I don’t feel remorseful. Tonight was magical,” she whispered in a dreamy voice that had his resistance slipping. “The first true magical night of my life.”
He could have her in his carriage in minutes, straddling him seconds after. A quick orgasm, no penetration involved, or not much, not everything, was possibly what they both needed. He might be clearer of mind after an impetuous release.
And now, he’d think of nothing else all night.
“And you, forcing Harcourt to his knees.” She fanned her face, grinning in blatant captivation. Her adoring gaze roved from his boots to his brow, and his body lit as though she’d struck a taper to his skin. “My.”
“Nothing else until after the vows, Lou,” he warned, forcing every syllable, deciding just then.
For some reason, a throb in his chest he wished to ignore, he wanted to wait until she was his wife.
“Which will be by special license now, swift, before the whispers grow teeth. Thankfully, having a viscount for a brother is handy in some instances.”
For a second, Dom thought she might argue. After all, she was known for it.
But then, she dipped her chin, and though she said nothing, the glint in her brilliant jade eyes told him she was pleased by his resolve. Apparently, she hadn’t had many stand up for her, another dart through his heart.
God help him, but the thought of someone at his side—reckless, brilliant, his—pleased him more than it should. Because it meant the rest of this, the heat, the hunger, the wonder, was only delayed, not denied.
Dom had no intention of letting Louisa remain a dream when he could make her his forever.