Page 41 of West End Earl
“Later, when I’m thinking about this and get hard all over again, it’s going to be remembering how amazing your hand feels that will make me come.” His voice was as ragged as his breathing, and it sent a rush of power through her.
Holding him like this made everything between her legs ache. This had escalated so far beyond a kiss, but she was having a difficult time regretting that right now. He pulsed in her hand as they stroked together.
The size of him, the steely hardness covered in silky skin, was nothing like the wood imitations she’d created over the years. “You know what I’m realizing?”
“I don’t know, but you have my full and undivided attention,” he said, groaning on a shuddery sigh when her palm caressed the plump head, then slid down to the tawny curls at the base of his sex.
“I don’t want this to be a onetime kiss.”
“Thank fucking God for that.”
She giggled and he swallowed the sound with a kiss.
“Pardon, milord.” The bedroom door closed, and they froze, then looked toward the empty doorway.
Panting, Phee asked, “Was that Kingston?”
Cal eased away enough to give her room to bend down and grab her shirt off the floor, but once the shirt was in place, he ran a hand down her arm and held her hand. Lordy, he looked delicious, all tumbled and flushed and breathing as if he’d run a race.
But his valet had proved all her fears to be valid.
“I told you I’d handle it, and I will. I promise. Trust me, Phee.”
She knew her eyes were huge, but it was hard not to worry. “You’re nearly naked, and he thinks I’m a man. Except he saw my bindings, so he might think I’m a woman. I don’t know which is worse.” She pressed a hand against her belly to quell the rolling sensation there.
Cal shook his head. “Even if the staff thinks—” Some of her panic must have shown in her face, because he finished with a simple “I’ll deal with it.” He cradled her jaw and kissed her again, slowly, as if savoring her. “Because I plan to spend a lot of time kissing you, Ophelia Hardwick.”
A tap against the door made Cal mutter an expletive as he dropped a kiss on the top of her head. He cinched the tie of his banyan closed, and she darted for the door to his dressing room. In the doorway, she glanced back, and he threw her a wink.
Fine, she’d trust him. As she slipped out into the hall, she heard Cal speaking to Kingston.
Once in her room, she collapsed against the door with jelly knees while her heart thundered in her ears. Lordy.
“I don’t think we’re just friends anymore.”
Chapter Thirteen
Having Phee at his breakfast table might be the best part of his day. Even when he’d thought of her as Adam, there’d been a satisfaction in feeding his friend. Today’s bit of primal gloating had nothing to do with charity and everything to do with having the woman who dominated his thoughts under his roof. Not in his bed—although after last night, he had high hopes—but in his home. Available to talk to, accessible enough to barge into his room at all hours.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t the only one who barged into his room. The conversation with Kingston had centered around discretion and privacy. It had been more difficult than expected to protect Phee’s secret. Kingston thought she was a man, which meant everything now depended on his valet having the character to keep his mouth shut about the Earl of Carlyle’s sexual proclivities. If word got out, this was something that could destroy Cal—and by extension, Emma—more effectively than anything his father had ever done.
Yet he couldn’t regret the risk as she sat drinking coffee with adorably blurry eyes, blinking her way into facing the day. The breakfast room doors were closed, and they were alone. So with ears alert for the sound of footsteps in the hall, Cal stopped beside her chair and quickly kissed the spot of skin between her linen cravat and the red curls behind her ear. A shiver rippled over her and he nearly smiled.
Except something wasn’t right. He sniffed the side of her neck, this time without romantic intent. “You smell wrong. And you’re wearing the same clothes. Again.” He reared back, questioning with a tilt of his head.
She shrugged, taking another sip of coffee. “The thieves stole my scent. Until I can get everything altered, these are my only clothes. The maids have been wonderful about laundering them, though. Your staff is exceptional.”
Cal slumped into the seat beside her. Here he was worrying about reputations and lusting after her, while Phee wore the same clothes each day because she hadnothingand her life was in danger. “Well, damn. I should have realized. How can I help?”
The gold slivers in her blue eyes were particularly bright in the morning, especially when she smiled at self-absorbed earls. “I’m fine for now. It might be a few days until I get everything altered, but I should have some pieces finished by tonight. I didn’t buy evening clothes, so it’s a blessing my social calendar is nonexistent.”
Cal shifted in his seat, then rose to peruse the offerings on the sideboard. “About that. You need evening clothes. I have to throw a house party at Lakeview. It gets us away from your uncle, and I have one more debutante to marry off, thanks to my father. Miss Cuthbert needs a husband.”
A pause. “Why is Violet Cuthbert still your problem?”
He winced and added another slice of bacon to his plate, then resumed his seat. “It’s just the latest in a long line of Eastly’s problems I have to fix. I’ll handle it, I promise.” He picked up her hand and kissed the top of her fingers, then released her so they could eat.
“That’s the second time you’ve said that in less than twelve hours.”
