Chapter Sixteen
He’d followed her up the grand staircase, keeping his stride measured despite the way his body still thrummed with the lingering imprint of her warmth.
He’d stopped at the landing to see her to her chambers, the door to the left that he now knew she slept behind.
There had been so many things he’d wanted to say, a thousand foolish impulses to demand more of her time, more of herself.
But she was a lady.
A perfect, maddening lady who belonged on a pedestal he hadn’t the right to touch, even if he wished to drag her down to meet him in the chaos roiling beneath his steady composure. He would not follow her into her chambers. He would not demand the taste of her lips again tonight.
No.
His jaw tightened as he turned away, his own door shutting firmly behind him as though that could be the end of it. Except it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.
Sebastian leaned against the door frame of his chamber, his hand resting on the sturdy wood as though it might somehow keep him upright.
He dragged a breath into his chest, shallow and burning, but it did little to steady him.
The faintest scent lingered in the air, something soft, floral, and wholly hers, and it undid him all over again.
The memory of Maddie’s lips on his own was as fresh as though it had happened mere moments before.
Her mouth had been impossibly soft, pliant under his, and yet teasingly bold in the way she’d responded.
He closed his eyes, shoving a hand through his dark hair as if to shake the thought free, but it was of no use.
He could still feel her. Her hesitant touch, the almost clumsy, daring way she’d boldened, trailing her tongue against his in a way that had nearly broken him apart.
Sebastian pressed his hand to his chest, his palm flat against the hammering beat of his heart.
What had he done? Or rather, what had she done to him?
He’d kissed many women before, plenty of them beautiful and perfectly willing as society demanded.
But not one—not a single kiss in his twenty-five years of living—had touched him like this.
Because it wasn’t just a kiss.
It was Maddie.
Miss Madeleine Hunt, his best friend’s fiancée’s closest friend, the woman who was meant to vex him with her endless complaints and penchant for tired remedies. The lady he should regard with the faint affection reserved for long-standing acquaintances and nothing more.
And yet…
She had undone him. Fully, entirely. Maddie’s sweetness, her tenacity, the fragile vulnerability she tried so valiantly to guard had cracked his chest wide open.
He’d been foolish to think he could remain indifferent, that she would remain nothing more than the vague requirement of society to “find a suitable match.” Nothing about her was vague.
His brows pulled together as he stared at the darkened corridor.
He should go to bed and leave the night and its confounding emotions safely in the hours past. Yet he couldn’t move, couldn’t stop turning over the scene in his mind.
The truth of it settled heavily in his chest, a weight and a wonder all at once.
He was falling in love with her.
Too late.
He already had.
I love her.
Sebastian didn’t bother denying it. He’d always been quick on his feet, sharp when it came to matters of logic and reason, and this was no different.
He was a man who knew his own mind, and everything in it was pointed squarely at her.
Maddie. Of all the women he might have imagined entwined in his life and future, she was an unexpected twist of fate.
A lady who didn’t fit the image his mother so persistently conjured but who now stood, unapologetically, at the heart of his desire.
I love Maddie.
The moment he was inside his chambers, he stripped off his jacket and cravat, the crisp fabric creasing as he tossed them aside.
His boots followed, dumped carelessly near the foot of the bed, something completely out of character for his practiced routine.
For a man who prided himself on control, he was utterly stripped of it.
Sebastian sat heavily on the edge of the bed, staring into the flickering firelight as though it could provide the answers he lacked.
His shirt came next, the cool night air brushing over his skin, though it did nothing to temper the heat coursing through him.
He lay back across the covers, one arm flung over his eyes, willing his body to relax.
But it refused, burning with an ache he hadn’t expected.
He could still feel the tremble in her fingers as they slid along his jaw, still taste the uncertainty and hope mingled on her lips. That kiss hadn’t been practiced. It hadn’t been polished. It had been honest. Terrifyingly honest.
And now, with nothing but silence and firelight to distract him, a darker truth gnawed at the edge of his mind: What if he’d ruined it?
What if his hunger had overwhelmed the moment? What if she now sat in her room, unraveling it all, wondering if she’d misread him? If she’d been too bold?
God, the thought hollowed him.
Because he hadn’t just wanted her—he’d wanted her to want him too.
Not just his mouth, not just the way he made her laugh when he wasn’t trying to—but him.
The man who didn’t know how to court. The man who never expected to feel this much.
The man who wanted her enough to rewrite his future around her.
He pressed the heel of his hand against his chest, as if he might keep his heart from leaping straight out of his ribs.
He hadn’t meant for it to go this far. But now that it had, there was no going back. No forgetting her taste. No pretending he could want anyone else.
He didn’t need the fire crackling in the hearth, nor the blanket folded neatly at the foot of the bed. He felt as though he’d swallowed a sun, the warmth of her touch lighting him up from the inside out.
His breath came out in a low, frustrated huff. It was madness, and yet it felt like the only truth he’d known in years.
He was hot.
He was hard.
He was in love.
The last admission struck him harder than the rest, a vulnerable whisper coursing through him, stealing the breath from his lungs. And the source of it all was not some idealized duchess or carefully selected debutante.
No, it was Maddie. Maddie, who wore her heart on her sleeve even as her guard shot up against the world. Maddie, whose clever tongue had more than met his in words and in action. Maddie, who made him ache in more ways than he cared to name.
He wanted her.
Only her. Forever.
*
Maddie shut the door behind her, the soft click of the latch unnaturally loud in her quiet chambers.
For a long, trembling moment, she just stood there, her hands pressed flat against the polished wood, as though pinning herself in place might somehow stop the world from spinning.
But it did spin. Oh, it spun and swayed, and before she knew it, her knees had given out beneath her, her back sliding down the door until she sat in an ungraceful heap on the carpeted floor.
Her fingertips brushed over her lips, still tingling with the memory of his kiss, and her chest gave a faint, startled heave. Of all the things she had expected of this evening, of him, of herself, this… this was not among them.
“Oh, what a kiss,” she whispered, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. Her laughter poured out next, bright and startled, bouncing off the walls of the small room. It was ridiculous, truly. If she had known kisses were such things as this, she might have set to practicing years ago.
Her gaze caught on the handbook resting on the nightstand, the leather-bound tome her aunt had thrust upon her with no small amount of solemnity.
A Young Lady’s Guide to Matrimonial Understanding and Proper Behavior.
She snorted, that wild laugh threatening to erupt again.
Oh, if only the author of that precious manual had felt this. Maddie doubted it very much.
“Perhaps it was written by a man,” she mused aloud, shaking her head, her voice trembling with suppressed giggles. Surely no woman, having known what Sebastian had just shown her, could write such drivel with a straight face.
Her eyes drifted closed, her head tilting back against the door as her finger, slow and reverent, traced her lower lip.
The sensation was still there, scorched into her skin.
Could anything put words to what she had felt?
To his warmth, the way he tilted her chin as though she belonged nowhere else, the unmistakable gasp that had escaped her, unbidden, when his tongue brushed hers.
Surely, there were no words, no sentences, elegant enough to contain that.
And good.
Good that there were none.
Some things weren’t meant for books. This was a moment carved out of time, stolen and too special to reduce to mere instruction or description.
I want to know more.
She pushed herself up gingerly, her legs still wobbling from the effort, and crossed the room to the washstand.
The water in the basin was cool against her flushed skin, dampening her neck and the edges of her sleeves as she splashed it over her heated cheeks.
It did little to chase away the rising warmth that lingered, curling low in her belly and quickening her pulse every time her thoughts wandered back to him.
Sebastian.
Her hands froze, gripping the edge of the basin, as if the name spoken only in her mind might somehow give her away. Maddie shook her head and moved toward the bed, shedding her gown with slightly fumbling fingers before slipping into her nightdress.
She slid beneath the linens and found no rest, only the kiss lingering like heat along her mouth. His touch haunted every shift of fabric.
You weren’t ready for this, she told herself—and knew she wanted more. Sensible had been easy. This, not at all.
She wanted to be seen the way he had seen her. With eyes that didn’t just look—but lingered. With hands that didn’t just hold—but knew. She wanted to be chosen. Desired. Treasured.
Her fingers curled into the sheet.
Was it too much to wish for?
Because in the heat of that kiss, she had tasted a future that terrified her with how much she wanted it. A world that belonged not to good girls and rule-followers, but to women who stepped forward. Who asked. Who took.
And perhaps—perhaps she wanted to be that sort of woman.
Not just for any man. But for Sebastian.
He had kissed her like she was worth waiting for. Like he didn’t dare ask for more, but would give her everything if she only let him. And though the kiss had ended, the invitation had not.
She could still feel it… the humming beneath her skin. Waiting.
And what would she do with that?
She didn’t know yet.
But she would know.
Soon.
She had told herself propriety was her guide, her shield, and perhaps it still was. But right now, with the memory of his kiss etched into her like her favorite song, propriety could wait until morning.