Chapter Six #3
“Come,” Clara quickly chimed in and stood.
“All this rain is making me drowsy. I need a bit of a lie down, and I do so enjoy having a gentleman escort.” Without another protest, Archie took her hand and they quit the room, leaving Amelia and Dorian alone.
Immediately, Amelia began to busy herself by picking up the cushions, and Dorian moved to help her. The silence was heavy and expectant.
Amelia finally broke it, saying softly, “Thank you for being so kind to Archie. I realize it likely isn’t something to which you are accustomed, but I am grateful.”
Unable to resist, Dorian covered her hand with his when she moved to pick up one of the cushions. “Are we going to talk around what happened between us last night?”
She watched as his thumb traced her knuckles in a lazy pattern. “There is nothing to discuss.”
“No?”
She finally looked up when she heard amusement in his tone. “It was a kiss. A stupid impulse. A mistake,” she said adamantly.
He raised and turned her hand, exposing the tender underside of her wrist. He pressed his lips to the frantic pulse there, and her breath hitched erotically in her throat.
“Then it was a mistake I would not mind repeating,” he said, his voice a low rumble.
Her wrist stiffened, and she removed herself from his grasp.
He released her without a fight, even though he burned to taste other, more sensitive parts of her delicate flesh. She retreated a couple of steps.
“Surely, you cannot be serious.” It was more a statement than a question.
“And why must that be?” he asked, taking only a small step toward her—letting her know she was pursued, but not to intimidate her.
“Why, because we…we…”
“Hate one another?” he asked lightly, taking another half step.
“There is something burning between us, but the last few days have proven it is not hatred.” He caught her hand once more, and she did not tug it free from his grasp.
“I was far from pleased when you broke off our engagement, Amelia—” she tried not to shiver at the sound of her given name rolling off his tongue, “—but that does not mean I’ve ever stopped wanting you.
Never doubt that I’ve always desired you.
” The truth he felt in the words unnerved Dorian, but he continued speaking.
“And I know you feel it, too.” He leaned in, lowering his tone even further, taking pleasure in the catch in her breathing, the high color in her cheeks.
She was far from unmoved by him, and he found it more than a little exciting.
She whispered his given name, and his careful control snapped.
He hauled Amelia to him, devouring her lips, tasting her, seducing her, holding her close enough to him that he knew she’d feel the aching truth of his want.
Her fingers tangled painfully in the hair at the nape of his neck.
Rather than yank him away, she held him closer, surprising him by using her own tongue and teeth to tease him.
He gave a shuddering groan of desire, wanting more. Needing it.
Her head tilted back, and her eyes closed in rapture when his thumb skipped across her nipple through her bodice. He kissed and nibbled her throat, tasting her collarbone, savoring every little noise she made, the way she clung to him.
His lips found hers once more.
“Let me come to you tonight,” he murmured roughly against her lips. “Let me come to you.”
It seemed to take her several moments to process his meaning because she didn’t immediately stiffen in his arms. When she did, he pulled back but did not release her from his arms.
Their ragged breathing mingled in the small space between them. He gazed down into her passion-glazed eyes and, in that moment, he knew with every drop of blood in his body that he had never wanted a woman more. She felt so good against him; she tasted so sweet.
“I…” she trailed off.
Silently, he pleaded with her to finish—to invite him to her bed, to fulfill every aching fantasy he’d had (and denied) for the last ten years.
The creak of the door made them leap apart. From the look on Archie’s face, Dorian suspected it hadn’t quite been quick enough. He only hoped the boy’s youth would mask any real understanding of what had been transpiring.
Dorian turned to the side and subtly adjusted his uncomfortably tight breeches.
Amelia’s voice was unnaturally high-pitched when she greeted her son. “Archie! Did you forget something?”
“I left my cannon,” the boy replied, a note of confusion in his tone as he crossed the room to retrieve the carved wooden toy from the far corner.
Dorian tilted his head in greeting to the boy.
Gone was any camaraderie they had developed over the preceding hours, replaced by the suspicion and wariness of a boy who adored his mother and likely felt a strong sense of protectiveness toward her.
He may not have fully comprehended what he’d stumbled upon, but neither was he stupid.
He narrowed his eyes at Dorian’s silent acknowledgment.
Rather than allow herself to be alone with Dorian again, Amelia ushered her son from the room with her hands on his shoulders. “Come, darling. I will walk with you back to the nursery.”
Dorian followed to the doorway, watching as they retreated toward the stairs. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe. He was so close…so…close…
There was no turning back.