Chapter Nine #2
“Could you make a list?”
She couldn’t. But she could ask the ladies upstairs to help her. Right now, that seemed like her best option. “Yes, madam.”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon nodded decisively. “Very good. Mr. Chase, when she completes this list, you will issue the invitations personally.”
Felicity was dismissed first, but she had to speak with him. After a moment he exited the office, a wrapped parcel in his hands. He did not see her as he passed the back stairs and Felicity had to reach out and tap his shoulder. He whipped around so swiftly she stumbled back.
“Flick, damn. I could have hurt you.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, her hand pressed to her pounding heart. I thought you would see me or hear me.”
His eyes took her in, glowing with interest. “Did you sleep well last night?”
Felicity brushed her hair out of her face and scowled at him. “Yes, if that is really what you’re asking, but I don’t think it is.”
He smirked and folded his arms. “What did Lucia say about Elliot and Wickstone?
“Something about screaming Shakespeare when he finishes and the other smells like cheese but is good at eating? I didn’t really understand, and I don’t think I want to.”
His jaw flexed but then he burst out in laughter. “Oh, Elliot, you strange idiot.”
“I take it his behavior is odd?”
He wiped his eyes. “It’s not something I’d enjoy myself but I’m not the one marrying him.”
Felicity folded her arms. “Neither am I.”
“Good.”
“What is Wickstone good at eating do you think? His vegetables?”
Tristan grinned and then bit his lip. “That’s an answer I’d rather demonstrate than discuss in the stairwell. Are you busy?”
Heat washed over her body. “No.”
“Then come with me.” He took her hand and started going down the stairs, not up, toward her room.
“Why?”
“I have to deliver this. Would you like to come with me? We can get out of the Den for a bit.”
“I’d like that. I’ll get my cloak.”
“I’ll wait at the rear servants’ entrance.”
Felicity hurried to get her bonnet, cloak, and gloves. She met Tristan at the door, and they climbed inside one of Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s unmarked carriages.
Felicity could hardly sit still as the carriage began to roll and Tristan sat across from her. They’d done this dozens of times, but this felt different. She was not hiding herself anymore, and he knew her deepest of secrets, her pain and turmoil. She’d never had someone know her so deeply.
And she’d have to let him go. It wasn’t fair to lose a person that she’d come to confide in and need for comfort and security.
But a day would come where she might not ever see him again.
To keep herself from staring at him, she turned toward the window and watched the buildings pass by.
When was the last time she had gone outside, other than on the balcony?
She’d gone to the dressmaker a few days ago, but it felt longer than that.
That occasion hadn’t truly been outside.
She’d gone from building to carriage to building and the entire time she was fraught with anxiety, as if at any moment her father or Chadwick might appear and grab her.
Which was nonsense. She knew that. Logically she knew that.
But her body, her thoughts, still reacted as if her fears could emerge from the shadows, and she was helpless to fight it.
“Did you do it?”
Felicity blinked back into the present. “Did I do what?”
He smiled slowly, holding her gaze. “The instructions I gave you last night. Did you follow them?”
Radiant warmth spread through her body and Felicity couldn’t hold his gaze. She shook her head at him and tried to fight a smile even though she was cringing with embarrassment.
“I tried. I did. But I don’t think I achieved anything.”
“That isn’t true. You tried. That’s something, Flick.”
Felicity shrugged bashfully and turned her head to look out the window.
“Not to sound like a braggart, but I did exceptionally well.”
Her attention snapped back to him, gaze dropping to his lap for a fleeting second. Her cheeks burned with scandalized delight.
“I don’t think I asked,” she replied.
“I knew you wouldn’t, but I thought you should know all the same. Thinking about you when I’m alone in bed is routine for me, but laying there and knowing that you were possibly doing the same? Orgasmic. Literally.”
Felicity bit her lip. She didn’t know what to say, or think, but the images popped into her head anyhow, filling in the blanks as much as she could.
She’d never seen a male organ—animal or man—in real life.
Only in a text. Not even when it was used as a weapon to hurt her.
But she had seen Tristan in a state of arousal and had some general idea about its form.
“I’d like to see it.”
He raised both brows. “I beg your pardon?”
Felicity folded her arms. “I’m trying to picture it, and I can’t, because I’ve never seen the particulars of a man other than on a printed page in one of Dr. Sloan’s books.”
He folded his arms to match her. “Should I demonstrate right here?”
“No!” Felicity hissed at him.
He chuckled. “I’m not an exhibitionist. Have no fear.”
“You’re a wretch is what you are. A scoundrel.”
“Perhaps, but you don’t look so sad anymore, so my devious plan worked.”
Felicity shook her head at him and fought a smile. She lost the battle and bit her bottom lip as she grinned. He did have a way of bringing her out of her thoughts. He could always tell when she was drifting out to sea in them.
He switched to her seat and took off his hat.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m going to kiss you.”
“Here? In the carriage with these open windows?”
He reached across her and jerked the curtain closed. “There. Private.”
“This is scandalous.”
“This is our day out of the Den, and I want to make the most of it.”
“Our day? You said you had an errand?”
“I do, but there is no reason not to spend as much time as we can running that errand. It could take all day.”
Felicity flinched as she looked down and saw she was already gripping his coat lapels. When had she done that?
“What if he stops? What if someone opens the door?”
“What if none of that happens and we just enjoy ourselves, Flick? What if I kiss you senseless and spend the day treating you to ices and walks under the shade of trees in bloom? What if we buy meat pies and watch a puppet show in Covent Garden?”
“We can’t do all that.”
“We can. We can do anything we want.”
She swallowed, her amusement fading. “We can’t. Not everything.”
He leaned closer. “Right now, that doesn’t matter. Right now, if we want to believe it, everything and anything is possible. Just for today.”
Her throat tightened. “For today.”
He tilted his head slightly, his breath fanning over her lips as Felicity tipped up her chin just enough to meet his kiss.
Their mouths fused together as if they’d been doing this for years, as if she were an expert in kissing Tristan Chase even though she’d done it less than a handful of times.
Kissing him was as easy as breathing, as right as the sun setting in the evening and rising again at dawn.
He made everything simpler, and she didn’t know how he did it.
She opened her mouth at the first teasing swipe of his tongue, and he slipped inside, caressing hers. They played and teased until they were restlessly pulling at each other, hands everywhere.
Tristan broke the kiss, dabbing kisses along her jawline and Felicity melted into him.
He hadn’t done his yet. She lifted her chin, exposing more of her neck and cupped her hand around his nape.
His mouth was divine, his tongue wicked and hot, as he licked and sucked at her skin lightly.
Her body reacted with tingles and throbbing between her legs.
She pinched her thighs together, shifting her hips to appease that aching need.
His mouth drifted lower, meeting the demure neckline of her bodice. His hands went to the buttons, the shifting of his fingers and the brush of the fabric making her nipples tingle. She stiffened and he immediately pulled away.
“Flick, I’m sorry. I got carried away. That isn’t an excuse, I know.”
“No, it’s not that.” She met his gaze. “I felt something unexpected.”
“What?”
She blushed. “I can’t explain it.”
“Shall I do it again? Then maybe I can understand what you mean.”
Felicity nodded. “It started when you tried to unbutton my pelisse.”
“May I?”
She nodded.
He was slower than before as reached for the large enamel button, his knuckles brushing her breasts and Felicity closed her eyes.
“That’s it. That’s the feeling.”
He undid another button, taking his time as now both hands worked the buttons free, brushing across her nipples, and her head dropped back against the seat.
“Does this feel good?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “More.”
“You want me to touch your breasts?” he said it quietly, in a sultry low voice that skimmed along her nerve endings, pulling at the strings that tightened in her core.
Her bodice loosened.
“Touch them, please.”
His soft hair touched her cheek as he bent close and resumed kissing the sensitive skin around her clavicle, and his hand cupped her breast, squeezing lightly. She reflexively pressed herself into his hand, searching for more contact, more sensation.
“I’d like to taste your pretty nipples, just like I’m tasting your skin.”
She was nodding before he finished speaking. To his credit he did not tease her for her wanton display. He returned his wicked mouth to her skin and slid his fingers along the ruffled edge of her chemise.
She felt the tug of the ribbon that tightened the neckline of her chemise.
The top loosened and his hand, the rough pads of his fingers, danced along the delicate skin until he reached inside, his cool fingers a delightful shock.
He reached her nipple, the zing of sensation so acute she jerked against him, her thighs slamming together.
“Oh my,” she gasped.