Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
Georgiana’s heart thrummed in her chest as Ellis looked up at her, his eyes burning with a want that mirrored her own.
“You have me where you want me,” he whispered. “Now what?”
Ellis Linfield might very well have been one of the most powerful men in London with the empire he had built for himself, and here he was, surrendering to her. A thrill raced up her spine. Years she had dreamt of being his, harboring a girlish crush that was left to daydreams. And now…
“Kiss me.”
He moved to stand, but she shook her head and gently tapped her fingers to his shoulders. He had been in such a rush to run after her, he hadn’t even worn a jacket, just his shirt.
“No, not on my lips.”
He worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he reached his hand out and gently brushed his thumb against her ankle.
“What do you know of that?”
Nothing, beyond the brief instruction Madame Marie had given her nearly ten minutes earlier. She played off her nervousness and kept her face the picture of calm.
“Are you upset you can’t teach me?”
His fingers crept higher up her calf, tracing the curve of her leg until he stopped at the ribbon garter. “Teach you? Kitten, I make grown men weep when they lose at my tables for fear of what I’ll take from them.” He pushed her skirts higher above her knee and leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to her thigh. “You wanted to best me, but this is a game I’m willing to lose if it means I have you squirming on this piano with my head between your thighs, and you’re crying out my name in a few minutes, do you understand?”
Georgiana sighed, collapsing back against the piano. The same buzzing feeling that had coursed through her veins during their kiss returned, making her dizzy and warm and so impossibly frustrated. She wiggled her hips as his fingers climbed farther up her skirts, pressing into her flesh just enough to make her feel like she was losing control.
He was right; she had sought out Madame Marie to reclaim the power in their relationship. He had spent the past week avoiding her, seemingly moving on with his life as if that kiss hadn’t changed everything.
But it had.
For both of them.
“Is this where you want me to kiss, Kitten?” He brushed his fingers over the apex between her legs. “Did Madame Marie tell you what a man can do to a woman here?”
Her voice was caught in her throat for a moment before she nodded. “Yes.”
“Yes, you want me to touch you here?”
She nodded again, thankful the piano was behind her for support as she tilted her head back to stare at the mural on the ceiling.
“I need to hear you say it, Georgie.”
“Please,” she whimpered.
His fingers brushed over the soft curls of her quim, parting her to swipe his fingers through her wet heat. She bucked at his touch, overcome at the mere pleasure of it.
She propped herself up on her elbows to watch as he bent forward and pressed his lips against her skin. So intimate, so…
“More?” he asked, his words washing over her.
“Yes.”
He traced his tongue over her most intimate flesh, parting her and tasting her.
Heaven above, stars indeed.
Ellis drew back just as suddenly, jumped to his feet, and picked her up, neatly placing her on the piano. “Much better.”
She grabbed his shirt, tugging him closer for a kiss. She tasted herself on his lips. And here she was, so worried she was losing control, only to look at her husband and see the gaze of a man utterly possessed.
“Lie back. I want to taste you until you are convinced a sliver of just how much I want you, my beautiful, beautiful woman.”
He kissed her once more, then traced the column of her neck with his lips while he pushed up her skirts, revealing all of her to him in the middle of Madame Marie’s brothel.
“I’ll be a very good teacher. I swear it. Tell me to stop if?—”
She shook her head, running her fingers through his hair and pushing down gently, directing him to kiss her there, to show her what pleasure could be. And all the while, her heart drummed in her ears at her own brashness. She had never been so bold, so quick to claim what was hers. And yet…
Ellis parted her lips and gently traced circles around the sensitive bud at her apex with his tongue, then with a firmer touch.
“Perfect,” he groaned. “So damn perfect.”
Georgiana had touched herself here only a handful of times, always stopping at the point where pleasure and pain met a frustrating plateau. But Ellis didn’t stop, and she didn’t wish for him to as his strokes set flames through her limbs, making her climb higher.
“That’s it now. Be a greedy girl for me, Georgie. I want you to fall apart on my tongue before I make you mine.” His fingers worked the flesh of her inner thigh until he stopped at the entrance of her quim. “Do you want more?”
She pushed herself up to look at his eyes, certain this was the most powerful she had ever felt in her life, and Ellis had given her this one precious gift. “Please,” she begged.
He groaned at her confirmation, slowly sliding his index finger inside of her, stretching her. The mere pressure of it nearly pushed her over the top before he drew her sensitive bud into his mouth, gently nipping it with his teeth, before sucking.
Georgiana bowed off the piano, and it felt as if she were floating. A burst of warmth spread through her limbs, and she clamped a hand over her mouth, fearing she might yell.
“There you are. So beautiful. Breathe, Georgiana.”
He slowly drew back, picking up her limp body to rest against his. He cupped her face in his hands.
“Call me jealous, Kitten, but you’re mine. You don’t need any seduction lessons. I have dreamt about nothing but you for weeks now. I want you and only you, you perfect, beautiful woman. And I’ll spend the rest of my days reminding you, pleasuring you, and honoring the way you’ve bewitched me.”
She struggled to catch her breath, her eyes pinned to his. Such gorgeous, deep hazel eyes. While her mind whirled and tried to connect his words with her own doubts and fears, she realized her body already knew the truth.
Because yesterday, today, and tomorrow, she would be in love with Ellis Linfield.
Her husband.
Two days later, Ellis watched Georgiana as she strolled by the collection of paintings surrounding them. Her attention lingered on each piece, carefully cataloging each brushstroke for later like a glutton fearing sudden famine.
He’d gone over this plan a dozen times before finally arranging it, nearly convincing himself she wouldn’t want to visit. But the moment he saw her expression as they stepped inside the small, private art gallery, he knew he’d been right to take the risk.
“How are we the only ones here?” she asked, finally turning toward him. Her deep-blue gown only drew his attention to the soft pink of her cheeks from the brisk winter wind outside. He could smell her bath oil and the fresh polish on the dark inlay floors.
“Sir Walter owed me a favor.”
“And he allowed you to reserve the entire gallery for us to walk through?”
A strange warmth flooded his chest. Or maybe his cheeks were growing hot.
“I thought you’d appreciate seeing it without interruption,” he said simply, trying to keep his tone light. “No wagging tongues or patrons pushing us to move along.”
Her brown eyes met his, soft and shining, and full of… admiration?
Damn it, if he didn’t want her to look at him like that always, from now until his dying day.
“Thank you, Ellis,” she murmured. “This means… well, it’s beautiful and so thoughtful of you. I know you must have other business to?—”
“Spending time with you is what I need. The club will be fine.”
She quirked an eyebrow, and he chuckled.
“Shaw has everything well in hand. I promise.”
He didn’t even believe himself, but she was kind enough to pretend. Georgiana nodded, then returned her attention to a sixteenth century Dutch landscape in front of them. Her brows drew down in concentration.
Ellis swallowed, clearing his throat, and forced himself to look away for a moment, grounding himself. “You’re remarkable, Georgiana. The way you see the world, the way you always search for the light.” The words surprised him, but they felt right, honest. He took a deep breath before saying, “I want you to know that.”
Her cheeks grew red, this time not because of the frigid cold of London beyond these walls. She brushed her hand over his arm, completely disarming him, and he froze even as she leaned in.
“This is the first time I’ve felt seen in some time,” she whispered, almost hiding the quiver in her voice. “What if, when we attend the Duke and Duchess of Abinger’s ball in a week’s time, the rest of London sees something else?”
“Then I’ll make sure they know exactly who you are.” His voice was rougher than he intended, edged with a protectiveness he couldn’t deny.
She relaxed at his words, her shoulders dropping slightly. Ellis reached for her hand, lifting it gently to his lips. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re worth knowing. My favorite.”
Her fingers lingered in his grasp, soft and warm, and he felt a pull toward her that was impossible to ignore. This was his chance to let her in, to believe in something that was frighteningly close to love. And as he looked into her eyes, he found himself finally willing to risk it.
“You don’t have to say that because we’re married, Ellis. I don’t need your?—”
He dropped her hand and gently knocked his fist against her chin, drawing her attention upward before he leaned down and kissed her. Soft, her lips were so soft and inviting against his. Perfection. She sighed as he snaked his arm around her back and drew her against him, the two of them kissing for some time alone in the gallery, there among a sea of paintings.
For now, nothing else mattered.