Page 62 of An American in London

“I’m serious.” I glance up at Ben. “I don’t want your money.”

“Then give it to charity. But we had a contract. I’m fulfilling my obligations the same way you did.”

I groan. He’s so freaking honorable. Why couldn’t he take his money back when I offered it to him? I could like him a little less.

“It’s very ... charming that you offered.” He fixes me with his gaze, and I’m out of arguments. He’s not being weird about it, so why should I be?

“I’m buying my own outfit for tomorrow. Don’t send me anything or I’ll be mad.”

“Not even underwear?” he asks.

A frisson of electricity sparks between us.

“Especially not underwear,” I reply. I’d rather surprise him.

Chapter Twenty-Two

If I’m honest, when Ben suggested a movie back at his place, I was expecting it to involve less silver screen and more nakedness. But warm buttered popcorn andA Duchess for a Dukewill have to do. For now, at least.

“This is the bit in the rose garden,” I say, nudging him with my elbow. We’re sitting hip to hip on the oversize velvet sofa in his screening room. There’s been no kissing, which is disappointing, but I hope that will happen before the credits roll. He probably thinks I want to watch the movie. Which I do ... but I wouldn’t choose it over kissing Ben. That must say something about the way my feelings for him seem to be blooming.

Watching this movie with me must be beyond irritating because I can’t help but tell him what’s about to happen.

“See how he watches her? He finally gets it.” I roll my eyes. “Finally! Men are so dumb sometimes.”

“Dumb?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I say, exasperated. “Like, hemustknow how she feels. It’s been building between them for so long.”

“Maybe he has doubts,” he says, taking the carton of popcorn and grabbing a handful. “Not about how he feels, but whether kissing her is the right thing to do.”

Silence circles us and I can’t help but wonder whether we’re still talking about the film. I turn so I’m staring at the side of his face, then he turns and our gazes lock; it feels like each of us is waiting for the other to speak. The tension between us sparks, and my heart thrums in my chest, sending vibrations throughout my body.

How could he doubt that kissing me is the right thing to do?

“But he knows her,” I say, my voice sounding throaty to my own ears. “Better than anyone. They’re so connected.”

“That’s howhefeels. But he doesn’t know if she feels it too.”

“Of course he knows.”

He shakes his head, his gaze dropping to my lips and then back up to my eyes. “He wants to be sure. She’s been through a lot and he has all the power. He doesn’t want to fuck it up.”

“He won’t fuck it up,” I whisper.

He smooths a strand of hair from my face. “Sure?”

I nod. “Kissing her is absolutely the right thing to do,” I say breathlessly.

He tosses the popcorn bucket behind him and cups my face.

My nipples harden and graze against the lace of my bra, and I squeeze my thighs together. I nod and he sweeps his lips against my cheek.

“Here?” he asks.

“Everywhere,” I say on a sigh.

He lets out a guttural moan and presses soft, slow kisses up my neck and along my jaw, each one eking out more and more sensation. He pulls away for a second and checks my expression.

---