Page 68 of Unforeseen Affairs
“I confess,” she nearly purred, “I find that… compelling.”
Suddenly the compartment felt stuffy, his clothing far too constricting. Sparks of light flickered about the periphery of his vision.
“I wanted you to kiss me,” she continued, calm and steady now, speaking blithely as if about the weather and not a reckless entanglement of their physical forms. “And I would very much enjoy kissing you again. This ache… it’s curious.”
She held one elegant, gloved hand splayed across her bosom. Colin felt powerless to resist its pull, watching as she slid itgently down toward her lap. His breathing sped up, and his vision blurred.
“So curious,” she repeated as she slowly, maddeningly caressed herself. “I find myself thinking…” She paused and frowned, not haughtily, but earnestly. “I find myself bitter with envy, thinking of you with that Miss Pearce. Kissing her. Touching her.”
“No,” he blurted out. “I wouldn’t. I—there’s no understanding between us.”
Why had he said that? Damn his cursed honesty.
“Oh, is that so?” She paused, her lovely fingers so gentle upon the rise of one enticing breast. “Would you like there to be?”
He swallowed and shook his head. “No. Not anymore.”
Fuck. He could not fib to save his life.
She studied him. And then, knowingly, she licked her lower lip.
Christ.His cock hardened. He never should have boarded this train, nor agreed to go to Manchester. They had to spend the evening together, for God’s sake. And the following day.
The world was slipping away. Colin did not know which way to look, nor how to keep hold of his senses, or his balance.
He closed his eyes again.
“Miss Sedley,” he managed, his voice raspy.
“I’m sorry. We don’t have to speak of it.”
He could hear her smile, and knew she wasn’t sorry in the least.
“Polite company wouldn’t,” he reprimanded, shutting his eyes even tighter.
“But we might be honest with one another, you know.”
“We might,” he admitted, then quickly added, “But now? There could be plenty of time later to… be honest. What purpose would it serve now?”
She did not respond. The shaking of the rail car was the only sound for so long that he almost opened his eyes to make sure she had not slipped away in distress.
But then she sighed—a drawn out, pretty sound, full of yearning. It caught him square in the chest, startling him so much he almost missed her whispered response:
“To see what it felt like.”
He clenched his jaw.
Everything fell to pieces. He was falling… no, not falling, just lightheaded. But then the car jerked suddenly, and Colin lurched forward, then grabbed his head with both hands, gasping for breath. Amid the chaos in his mind, he wondered if he should roll to the side onto his seat, lest he collapse to the floor.
“Sir Colin?”
His head swung to and fro, as if he were amusing himself upon a swing hung from a tree limb. But there was no swing. No tree. Nothing amusing in the least.
Just dread. Dizziness and dread.
“Sir Colin!”
Chapter Nineteen
