Page 42 of The Last Chance
He felt her hands glide up his chest, exploring the firm contours of his muscles. Then she flung her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, the heat of her body pressed against his as they stumbled back against the wall like desperate lovers.
Aaron lost control.
The King of Clubs was relegated to a lowly knave.
Every sensual movement of her tongue fed his craving. He plunged deeper into her wet mouth, the primal urge to hike up skirts and drive home causing a heavy ache in his loins. Erotic visions bombarded his mind. His mouth hot on her womanhood, his fingers plunging in and out of her wet sex. Her panting while calling his name.
Take me, Aaron.
Cursed saints!
He tore his mouth from hers. “Tell me to stop,” he cried,unable to subdue the hunger, aware of the discordant actions of his body and his rational mind. “For heaven’s sake, demand it.”
Even as the words left him, he was hiking up her skirts, his fingers grazing the soft skin of her thigh. If he edged higher, he could slip his fingers through her folds, make her come hard.
She looked at him through dreamy eyes as her mouth parted on a pant. “Don’t stop. Not yet. You still need to show me the reason for your reticence.”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Both hands were up her skirts now. He gripped her bare buttocks, pressing the hard ridge of his erection against her abdomen, his arousal deepening. “I’m a heartbeat away from having you. I’ll not stop until I’ve wrung the last whimper from your lips.” He would make her come again and again just to feel the splendour of her hugging his cock. “You should leave. It’s not safe for you here.”
She swallowed hard. “You swore to protect me.”
“I’m the one you should fear. I’ll pay for you to stay at Mivart’s hotel, pay for a companion and a handful of guards. If you stay here, it will end in disaster. You’ve been hurt before. I don’t want to be the one who hurts you again.”
“You can’t hurt me if I’m a willing participant.”
“You might want me now, but you’ll regret it later. You deserve better.”
It took all the strength he possessed to release her and step back. Sweet mercy. He wished he were a weaker man, that he wasn’t consumed with the need to protect her. Who would have thought he’d be saving her from himself?
“Wait.” She stepped away from the wall.
But he couldn’t wait. If he hoped to dampen his ardour, he needed mental clarity. Indeed, there was only one way to knock sense into his addled brain.
“There’s somewhere else I need to be.”
“You can’t leave. What about the curfew?”
He dragged his hand through his hair and tried to temper hislust. “I’m going to the basement. I have to fight next week. I can’t afford to lose.” He didn’t stop to hear her reply but descended the stairs as if the house were ablaze.
There was but one way to satisfy the beast. He would punch the boxing bag until anger swallowed every conceivable emotion. Then he would retire to his study and sit alone, his heart bleeding in the darkness.
Chapter Nine
Office of the Order
Hart Street, Covent Garden
Aaron escorted Miss Lovelace into Lucius Daventry’s premises promptly at ten, though the housekeeper asked them to wait in the hall because the gentleman was otherwise engaged.
“The master will be with you shortly,” Mrs Gunning said before hurrying away because she had biscuits in the oven and timing was everything.
“Daventry is always punctual. He never runs late.” Aaron glanced at Miss Lovelace, the woman he’d not stopped thinking about since he left her on the landing last night. The memory of their kiss lingered in his mind, the yearning to kiss her again so intense it was almost painful. “Perhaps he’s forgotten our lives hang in the balance.”
She smiled at him like he was a mere acquaintance, not the man who’d left her panting with pleasure. “I’m surprised the housekeeper didn’t ask us to wait in the drawing room.”
“She seemed more bothered about burning her biscuits.”
“They do smell delicious.”
