Page 22 of Queen of Ruin

LOVE AFFAIR WITH THINGS THAT CAN NEVER BE

DARREN

The National Archives Museum is full of centuries worth of documents that have priceless monetary and historical value, but there is nothing in this room more valuable than Evangeline’s smile. It’s the kind of smile that reaches her eyes, making them an unearthly shade of blue. When they’re trained on me, they make my heart stop.

“Do you like?” I gesture to the gift on the table in front of her that I enlisted Bethany’s help with – priceless love letters that Emerson wrote.

The door clicks shut as I move further into the room, my attention never wavering from Evangeline’s as she stands in black high heeled boots and a very short skirt. If she bent over, I might be able to see the crease of her heart shaped ass. I contemplate pushing the priceless Emerson letters to the ground just to watch her pick them up.

“Did you promise to let Bethany whip you if she did you this favor?” Evangeline muses.

“A gentleman never tells,” I shrug.

Evangeline purses her lips. I join her at the desk where Bethany has provided a small portion of letters that Emerson wrote to Margaret Fuller. There is a protective covering over the letters, and the room is kept dim to further aid in their preservation.

“You’d already given me a present by letting me tag along to pick up Alistair from the park police.” Her voice is full of amusement.

I lift an eyebrow. “Am I not allowed to give you another?”

I study her face as she studies the letters. It’s the way her hands hover over them as if she wants to gather them up and hide them under her pillow for safekeeping. It’s her romanticism that I am dangerously drawn to.

“You look at those letters with a wonder that rivals history-lovers who first view the Declaration of Independence in the rotunda, and yet none of those people would travel across the country to view the conflicted love letters written by Emerson to a woman who was not his wife.”

It feels as if the temperature in the room rises as she settles her gaze on me. I have to fidget with the loose change in my pocket to stop myself from grabbing her by the back of the neck and pulling her to my lips. It’s been too long since I’ve tasted her, ran my thumb over her plump bottom lip, and I am all too eager to do just that.

“Can you really call him conflicted when he was clearly married while he wrote such beautiful letters to Margaret? I think he knew exactly what he wanted; he just couldn’t have it.”

“I might be coerced into thinking that you have a love affair with things that can never be.”

“Aren’t those the most romantic ones?” she challenges, and the tilt of her mouth has me on edge.

Everything about her has me on edge.

“What’s romantic about not having what it is you crave; the very thing that keeps you up at night and invades your dreams?” I contemplate, rubbing the stubble along my jaw while struggling to keep my hands to myself.

“Spoken like a boy who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth.” It’s her challenging smirk that causes me to cage her against the table.

A startled breath escapes her lips. Her back arches as she looks up at me with wide blue eyes through long black lashes. She blinks against her bangs, the action so innocent but so tempting. Her perfect pink lips part as she swallows nervously, causing an ache to form in my chest.

“I take what I want,” I threaten, licking my lips as I stare down at her small frame, but it’s her defiant and confident attitude that makes her presence fill the room. “Is there something wrong with that?”

I will go to hell for thinking of fucking her here in this sacred place with century-old love letters, de-classified white house documents, presidential libraries, and of all things, the Declaration of Independence.

“Only if it doesn’t belong to you,” she challenges with that smart, kissable mouth of hers.

“Then it’s a very good thing that you’re mine,” I rasp, my voice sounding as old and weathered as the Emerson letters. My eyes drop to her lips – full and pouty – the pink lip gloss shimmering in the dim lighting that I want to smear as I kiss her hard and deep.

The handle to the office door turns, and I take one step back from Evangeline. Her fingers grip the edge of the desk and her eyes are trained on my hand with equal amusement and heat as I discreetly try to readjust my cock so Bethany doesn’t see the beginning of my hard-on.

“Darren, I see you made it. What did you think of the letters?” Bethany York asks as she enters the room, either unaware of how close I was to fucking Evangeline on those letters – or pretending not to notice.

She collects her white gloves from the desk and slides them on to handle the documents.

“Inspiring,” I confirm, cocking my head to the side while still staring at Evangeline, who stares back with amusement.

Her cheeks flush as she turns towards Bethany.

“Your wife is very charming,” Bethany declares as she gathers the letters.

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