Page 45 of Making of a Scandal
Taking a deep breath, she edged away from him a step, then another. People would start to talk if they appeared to be in the midst of a spat.
“It has grown over-warm in here. If you’ll excuse me, I need some air.”
She dashed out onto the terrace before he could stop her, ducking to the side of the door and out of sight. The cooler air helped to calm her and took some of the heat out of her cheeks.
This situation had begun to unravel, falling out of her control even as she grappled to rein it all in. It was Dominick, the infuriating man. She ought to have known he would never adhere to the boundaries of their contract. His sense of manhood and pride in his work would demand that he add her to the never-ending string of lovers he’d plowed through. She would not fold. There was far too much at stake.
Her eyes flew open as the subtlest change in the air announced his presence. Fury welled in her when she found him melting into the shadows with her. The noise of the ball filtered through the open doors, voices and music and laughter. It all seemed to fade away as he came closer, not stopping even when Calliope tried edging away from him, her back coming against the side of the house. His hand pressed flat to the brick, his arm impeding her escape.
“Dominick, please—”
“As much as I like the sound of those words on your lips, I am not fond of your tone. Perhaps if I kiss you again, you’ll beg me to have my wicked way with you instead of imploring me to stop making you feel things you’d rather not.”
She glared at him, one hand pressed to his chest in a feeble attempt at pushing him away.Wasshe pushing him? That had been her intent, but now that her hand was on him, her resolve had begun to weaken. She could think of nothing but the firmness of the flesh at her fingertips and the rapid cadence of his heart.
“You have quite proven your point,” she snapped. “Attraction is an instinct that cares not whether two people actually like one another. There is no need to continue your little game.”
“Is there something about my behavior that leads you to believe that I am in a playful mood?”
No, dash it all. He was serious, completely and intensely focused upon her like a hawk ready to swoop down on an innocent, unsuspecting meal.
“I can understand your rigid adherence to public propriety, and preserving your reputation,” he added. “What I cannot understand is why you go on pretending as if you don’t want so much more than you aspire to.”
“Martin is a good man. He will make me a fine husband.”
He scoffed and shook his head. “You are not a ‘fine’ woman, or even a ‘good’ one. I’d never describe you with such paltry words. Why do you think that all you can have is a bland future with a man who isn’t capable of truly appreciating you?”
“There is nothing wrong with wanting security and an amiable marriage. Not everyone chases passion with such recklessness, as if there aren’t more important aspirations in life.”
White teeth flashed in the dark when he smiled, and he edged forward until their bodies touched. “I find that interesting coming from you, a woman so full of life and vitality. You think of passion as something dirty and carnal, something to be resisted. What you fail to realize is that it encompasses all of life, but in various forms. You love your sister, you care for the orphans who rely on your charity, even the single-minded determination with which you chase your suitor is dripping with the very same passion you claim to want none of. Do you think Lewes has even a fraction of the spirit you possess?”
She tilted her chin in a show of defiance, hands clenched at her sides. “I think you judge him unfairly. You hardly know him.”
“And you know him so much better?” he challenged, fingers lightly tracing along her cheek. “Enough that you can picture him as your groom, your husband?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think of how that touch felt on her face—how it sent tingles of awareness across her skin, down her throat, straight into her breasts.
“Y-yes.”
“And you can imagine him touching you, making you tremble the way you are right now … undressing you and taking you to bed?”
His fingertips stroked along the side of her neck, then lower, tracing the line of her collarbone, then the edge of her neckline. Goose bumps rose along her skin wherever he touched.
“Do you imagine he’d be the perfect gentleman, as he always is? Or do you think he would ravage you with hot kisses?”
She gasped when he skimmed his open mouth along her shoulder, his breath warm and ticklish against skin that seemed attuned to his every touch. One long, muscular thigh pushed between hers, spreading her legs and pressing against her most intimate of places. Her gown hitched up a few inches, and she found herself gripping his shoulders for balance, her entire body wracked with tremors as heat sparked from where his leg pressed against her mound.
“If he’s a smart man, he’ll take his time. A sweet little morsel like you should be savored, not taken in a single bite. How prettily you’ll moan when he kisses you here … his tongue teasing these delectable nipples until you’re writhing and panting beneath him.”
Her teeth clenched to hold in a whimper when his thumbs stroked her nipples, the touch slightly muted by her gown, stays, and chemise. Still, it was enough to make her more aware of her breasts than she had ever been, the tips furling tight and throbbing with need as he slowly circled the pads of his thumbs over them.
“He won’t be able to stop there,” he rasped in her ear, his lips teasing the curving shell, his tongue dipping and swirling. “He’ll want to kiss and taste you everywhere—your breasts, your belly, every inch of your shapely legs. You’ll blush and try to push him away when he nibbles along the insides of your thighs, but he’ll soothe you, remind you how good he can make you feel if you’d just let him. And youwilllet him, won’t you, because you can’t help yourself. Because you want him as badly as he wants you. He’ll push your legs apart and kiss, lick, and suck his way down …”
Her belly clenched, her entire body stiffening as his knuckles strummed down her belly. She faintly registered the noise from inside the ballroom, reason creeping in to remind her that someone could wander onto the terrace any minute. This was wrong—so wrong—and not just because they could be caught and she would be ruined, but because as he whispered seduction and sin in her ear, she forgot that they were supposed to be talking about her and Martin.
But, it wasn’t Martin she thought of as his fingertips tickled between her legs, brushing against the seam of her mons through the fabric of her gown and petticoats. It was Dominick she imagined kissing and undressing her, touching her, doing such naughty things.
“You’ll cry out at the first touch of his tongue here,” Nick rasped. “You never knew anything so wicked could feel so good, but you’ll let him taste you, your legs shuddering and your back arching as he licks and kisses you where no man has ever touched.”
