Page 57 of Enticing Odds
“Just a tick,” she breathed. Cressida glanced back down the steps. There was no sign of the youth. She frowned. “Who was that? You spoke as if you might… know him, ridiculous as it seems.”
For a moment, everything seemed to hang in the balance. Dr. Collier’s face was so open, so pained as he studied hers.No, she silently pleaded. It had been far too long; she’d spent far too many nights dreaming of his massive form upon her. Could it all end right here, like this, when she’d not even enjoyed one night corrupting this kind, gentle man?
And then his expression hardened.
“He’s nothing but a clumsy footpad, is all.”
He took her hand. Emboldened, he pulled her to him, slowly and deliberately, his gaze steady upon her.
“Are you that unsettled?” he murmured with concern. “I wouldn’t have you upset. I shall see you home, safely, if you wish.”
How she wanted him on his knees before her, gazing up at her from between her legs with that reverent look, that pleading voice. She relaxed against him, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. They were being terribly cavalier, carrying on like this in front of the hotel. Especially considering what had just happened. And yet, as Dr. Collier held her tight, his body warm against hers, she couldn’t help but find him more attractive than ever before. She couldn’t bear losing what was now very nearly hers.
“No,” she whispered. “Shall we get on, then?”
He swallowed, then nodded.
A porter held the door for them.
“A room, please. And be quick about it. My wife has just been accosted outside your establishment.” Dr. Collier nearly growled the words.
Cressida didn’t hear the clerk’s response, nor did she bother to weigh his credulity. She didn’t notice the plain, dull furnishings of the lobby, the dancing light sputtering from the lamps. Never had she begun a tryst like this, heart pounding while her paramour cleaved her to his side, declaring them to be together for all to hear.
He’d called her his wife. In that voice, full of that protective anger.
Existing as someone’s wife, trapped in a cycle between their country seat, their London manse, their opera box, their bed… the idea was loathsome. He hadn’t meant it that way, though. She snuck a glance up at his face, still hard with consternation. Her heart tightened. And who was that ragged boy accosting them, calling her a lady while clutching that filthy handkerchief?
Cressida had lost control of the situation, her thoughts tossed about in a churning sea of ambivalence.
She didn’t mark the men in dark jackets milling about. She didn’t note the travel-worn carpets down the hall, nor the brass doorknob to the room.
All she could think of was the ache within her, the need to claw at Dr. Collier, to pull his face down to hers. To take him for herself, without promises or expectations. Just two lonely creatures finding comfort in one another’s arms, however briefly.
Finally they were within the room. She waited until he shut the door and latched it.
Then she set herself upon him.
She felt like everything he’d ever wanted, pure feminine sensuality as she twisted her hands into the lapel of his jacket, forcing him to stoop to meet her lips, pressing herself hard against him. It was everything he’d ever dreamed of, an elegant and worldly woman besotted with him. Touching him.
This time, she was real. She was warm. Matthew returned her kisses, deep, slow, and hot.
His arms were shaking, he realized, as he lifted them from his sides and slid them about her small, soft form.
This time she would not pull away.
Christ, he’d been so alone, so cold, for so long. He had been afraid, he realized, that he’d botched the whole thing by kissing her in the library. Or by running from his mistakes and vices that now haunted him in the streets in the form of Charles Sharples, or tonight, his errand-boy Fliss.
But he’d called for her, and she’d come. He’d asked her if she wished to leave, and she’d remained.
She was here, her kisses matching his, rising in speed and urgency as they both hit a shared crescendo, a shared need to join themselves without further delay.
How long had he yearned for her?
Matthew could not say. Mere months ago he was barely aware of her gorgeous, glittering existence, and could never have conceived that she’d ever be here, in his arms, up against the door of this cold and sterile hotel room.
He pushed off the door, hands upon her shoulders.
Reluctantly she broke their kiss, falling back onto her heels.
