Desire Me Now (12 page)

“Then act instead. Do what I know you want to do.”

She looked at him sharply. “You ask impossible things of me.”

“They are only impossible if you allow them to be.”

Mr. Riley leaned back in his seat, one hand raised and swirling his whisky round and
round in the tumbler as he watched her puzzle out his words. She wasn’t sure if she
was supposed to be stunned and surprised, or if she was supposed to take on his challenge.

She merely lifted her glass to her lips and drank the last half of her absinthe straight
down. A third glass was produced and prepared for her. It all happened so fast that
before she knew it, she had drunk it all down, and Mr. Riley was pulling her to her
feet. She felt quite spry, as though she were floating. She closed her eyes and concentrated
on the music. “The piano player is quite good.”

Though she expected no answer, Mr. Riley said, “He is. Came over from New Orleans,
in America, and brings a special flare of that Creole music with him.”

They were on the dance floor again, her bad foot atop his, the other moving along
with him. “How do you know the piano player?”

“He was a stowaway in one of my shipments. The captain wanted to toss him out to sea
and feed him to the sharks. When I saw the look in his eyes, I knew all he wanted
was to find a place to build a new life.”

Yet another admirable thing he’d done to endear him to her further. Did this man have
any faults? Not only was he the most handsome man she’d ever met, but he had riches
she could barely comprehend as she dug further into his business. Most important,
he had a heart of gold for those struck down by bad luck and poor circumstances. It
made her feel so . . . unaccomplished.

“Do you have ties to this establishment too?” Amelia asked.

“Are you asking if I own it?”

She nodded.

“I do not. But the owners are friends, of sorts.”

“Of sorts? I thought friends only came in one sense of the word,” she teased.

“They come in many varieties, Miss Grant,” he said with a flourishing swirl around
the floor, weaving in and out of other dancers.

“I do not think I have ever enjoyed dancing as much as I do with you.”

“I will take that as a compliment to my skill.”

“I like this side of you, Mr. Riley,” she said, gazing up at his stern expression.

“And what side would that be?” He didn’t crack the smallest hint of a smile, but surely
he knew what she was talking about.

“Your playful side. You’re always business-like or very serious . . . You’re different
tonight.”

“Is that so? Well, perhaps I should take you dancing more often.”

She pulled him to a stop after one too many spins. She had to grasp the front of his
waistcoat and hold herself still while her head straightened out. She laughed as she
tried to focus on the crowds around her.

Goodness, she must be more careful about imbibing in spirits in future. Finally, some
of the faces became clearer; she even followed a top hat bobbing around the perimeter
of the crowd, the gait awkward in its up and down motion . . . and familiar.

Amelia suddenly straightened, her heart in her throat, as she waited for that hat
to turn her way. She only caught a glimpse of her brother’s face before she ducked
behind Mr. Riley’s large form.

“I fear the spirits have gone straight to my head,” she said in a rush.

Mr. Riley knew immediately something was wrong, for he looked around the café to see
what had caught her eye. Thank heavens, he wouldn’t know what or whom to look for.

He led her back to the table to retrieve her cane and his hat. “The carriage awaits
our departure,” Mr. Riley said.

He tucked her arm under his and led her outside. Amelia looked at every one of the
faces they passed and searched for that familiar hat again, but she didn’t see it
anywhere. Had she imagined seeing her brother? Perhaps it was someone who looked like
him. But the walk . . .

She felt dizzy, unbalanced, and stumbled a little in her path. Mr. Riley lifted her
up in his arms and strode with purpose toward the carriage. Amelia tucked her face
into his shoulder, thankful she hadn’t had to ask for his assistance and glad to be
able to hide her face.

When they were in the carriage, Mr. Riley took her hands between his and watched her
in that silent way of his. “Are you going to tell me what frightened you enough that
we had to leave so abruptly?”

“No reason. The absinthe—”

“I can tolerate a lot of faults and vices in people, but lying is not one of them.
Not from you.”

Pressing her hands against either of his knees, she leaned in close to him. The carriage
hit a rut in the road, and she flew right into him, face first, which worked, she
supposed, in her favor. Mr. Riley’s hands clasped her arms to keep her steady. She
didn’t quite mean to make it so clumsy, but after swallowing back any further denials,
there was nothing left to do but kiss him. And she seemed to be mucking that up too.

Mr. Riley turned her so she sat across his lap, her arms wrapped around his shoulders.
His hat was knocked to the side and fell to the seat with a muffled thud.

With her lips parted, she looked at him from her elevated position, not quite sure
how to initiate what they had been working toward all night. His eyes were hard, the
color so cold that it could easily send a chill down someone’s arms. But to her, they
were inviting. Even forgiving. She could definitely get lost in his eyes.

“Now you are avoiding my questions,” he said evenly, as though the kiss had little
effect on him, but she knew it had, for he was caressing his fingers up and down her
side, over her ribs, where one seam of the corset pressed against the dress.

“It would be a shame for our night to end. It has been . . . magical. And I’m afraid
that magic will be nothing but a figment of my imagination, come morning.”

“This isn’t something I’ll let you forget,” he said with so much promise that she
believed him.

But they would resume their normal roles when morning broke. She would play the part
of his secretary; he, the powerful industrialist.

She slid her arms away from his shoulders, feeling quite silly sitting in his lap.
She was unsure how exactly to extricate herself, but it didn’t seem to matter, because
Mr. Riley’s hand grasped her side to hold her right where she was.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“That you even have to ask tells me you kissed me on a whim, to try to distract me.
You will not be able to keep secrets from me forever, Amelia.”

Gazing into his eyes, she knew he was giving her a reprieve this once. Her heart skipped
in worry at the thought of his knowing what her brother had done to make her leave
her old life. What the man who thought to marry her had promised.

Surely the absinthe was playing tricks on her mind right now. It was impossible for
her brother to find her. How would he know she’d come to London instead of somewhere
more familiar, like Edinburgh?

When the carriage stopped, Mr. Riley reached around her to open the door and assisted
her to her feet before they exited the carriage. After handing her the cane, he placed
his hand on her lower back as he had at the restaurant. That show of possessiveness
thrilled her so deeply that she mentally chastised herself for her reaction.

When they were inside, Mr. Riley backed her up against the door and placed his arms
on either side of her shoulders. He leaned in close to her face, close enough that
she could smell the coffee on his breath. It was much more pleasant a scent on him.
She wanted to taste his lips to see if he tasted as good as he smelled, now that she
wasn’t focused on distracting him.

“What do we do now, Mr. Riley?”

He set her cane in the umbrella stand next to the door. She swallowed the nervousness
that suddenly choked her.

“Our night is far from finished,” he said. Then he swept her up into his arms and
headed for the stairs.

H
itching Amelia higher in his arms, Nick turned his back to her door and reached behind
him to find the doorknob. Twisting it, they rushed backward into her room. Her grip
had tightened around his shoulders, and she felt a giddiness wash through her at the
sudden thrill and excitement of their stolen moment.

This is wrong
, her mind screamed. She needed to stop this. She needed to think about her choices.
But the words asking him to set her down and leave simply wouldn’t form on her tongue.
What she wanted was to forget about everything else, including the pesky voice of
reason trying to ruin her perfect night. And while she might still feel slightly lightheaded
from the absinthe, it was not ruling her actions.

Mr. Riley set her down on her feet. Her body slid along his on its descent.

Holding on to his jacket, she tipped her head up and stared into his eyes. “Why do
I feel this way around you?”

He rubbed his hands over hers, holding her close. “And how is that?”

“Confused. In need of something I do not understand and for which I cannot find words.”
She closed her eyes, not believing she was admitting this much to him. “Desperate
for your touch, for your lips pressed against mine . . . for your hands around me
as they were in the carriage.”

Perhaps that was the absinthe talking. She doubted she’d have said any of that, had
she refrained from indulging in the green liquid.

When she cracked her eyes open, it was hard to miss the hunger that dilated his pupils.
Releasing her hands, he caressed her jaw and chin. She backed away from him, not sure
if she’d made the right decision in inviting him into her bedroom, not sure about
confessing her feelings at all.

She stumbled on her bad foot and reached out to catch herself on the cushioned bench
at the end of her bed. Mr. Riley was there in an instant, lifting and carrying her
over to the side of the bed. He set her down with a gentleness she couldn’t have guessed
he harbored when he looked positively ravenous and ready to devour her.

She closed her eyes again, took in a steady breath, and released it. She repeated
this process as Mr. Riley kneeled in front of her and pushed her skirts up so that
they were gathered above her knees. Any proper young lady would have asked him to
stop, but she didn’t have it in her to do so. She didn’t want to be proper when she
was with Mr. Riley.

Instead, she stared at his bowed head and considered leaning close enough to run her
fingers through the thick waves of black that fell forward around his collar. His
focus was on untying her boot. He removed the boot on her good foot first and then
carefully worked on the second, loosening all the laces so it fell off her foot and
into his hand without having to be tugged free.

She jumped when his fingers caressed the side of her ankle. He looked up, alarmed.
“Does this hurt?”

She shook her head, at a loss for words. Nibbling her lower lip, she hesitated before
saying, “I know I should ask you to leave, but I do not want you to go.”

He stood, suddenly looming over her, forcing her to tilt her head back to look up
at him. With his fingers under her chin, he looked at her with a longing she imagined
was mirrored in her own eyes. A longing that a man of his bearing and standing should
never have for someone like her, she reminded herself.

She was his secretary; he was her employer—two very important facts that she could
never forget. Yet that was precisely what she had done to let this man undress her.

“What am I meant to do?” she asked.

“That is up to you. But no more than you are willing.”

She shook her head. Confused by what she should do, what she wanted to do, and what
she guessed they were about to do.

Accepting him was never a question. She wanted this just as much as she wanted a decent
life and a job to support herself and to be a self-sufficient woman, which seemed
contradictory. But she could acknowledge that Mr. Riley would be a vital part of her
immediate future.

With his hand gently cupping the back of her head, his lips drew nearer. His breath
was a warm whisper over her lips. He stopped a scant inch away from her parted mouth.
She craved his kiss.

“Tell me when it’s too much,” he said.

She searched his eyes and nodded once, as he seemed to be waiting for her response.
Before she could inhale her next breath, Mr. Riley’s tongue was sliding into her mouth
and curling around her tongue. Her actions at first were tentative, never having kissed
anyone before Mr. Riley. Her tongue followed his, never exploring on its own.

With his hand tangled in her hair, he guided her back against the bed, bringing his
much larger frame over her slight one, though he didn’t press his weight upon her.
Not knowing what to do with her hands, she fisted them in the material of his waistcoat
on either side of his wide chest.

She grew bolder with their kiss, touching parts of his mouth with her tongue, loving
the smooth slide against his teeth. Soon, their kiss left her panting, not for breath
but for a deeper sweep of his tongue, for want of her breasts smashed against his
chest as when they had danced, for his full weight covering and crushing her into
the bed. She arched up against him, needing all that and so much more.

Their lips parted only to join and taste and feel again and again.

Wanting more but not sure how to put words to those desires, she unclasped her hands
and tentatively spread one of her palms over his shoulder, sliding it higher until
it rested on his upper back. She could feel his strength in the coiling of his muscles
as he braced himself above her. His body was all tension and vibrated so hard that
she wanted the last tether of his control to snap.

It was that moment she realized he was being careful—holding himself back. She wanted
all of him.

Feeling braver by the moment, she snaked her other hand around his neck, her fingers
tickling the line between the edge of his shirt collar and the soft strands of his
hair. Like a wolf in wait, he stilled.

She opened her eyes so she could read the expression in his eyes. He was staring right
back at her. She knew precisely what the gleam in his eyes meant, and she wasn’t afraid
of the desire radiating off him, like coals burning out of control.

“Have I done something wrong?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“There is no going back from this.”

She understood that perfectly well. She wanted whatever
this
was.

He continued to stare at her, his arms braced on either side of her shoulders. Did
he want her assurance that she wanted this?

“Amelia.” Her name on his tongue was a seductive growl in her ears, and the sound
had her mouth parting on a small sigh. “You’re mine and no one else’s.”

“I only want you.”

He kissed her hard, his mouth rougher, needier this time. The feel of his teeth grazing
her lips and her tongue tore a moan from deep in her throat. This time, when he pulled
away, she almost followed his mouth with hers, not willing to relinquish the kiss
she’d been craving since they arrived home. This was precisely what she wanted.

“I will never let you leave,” he said with a finality that might have frightened most
women, but he didn’t scare her.

“Why do I feel this way about you?” she asked. “I don’t plan to leave when I have
only just found my place here.”

Her answer seemed to satisfy him, and his body came down on top of hers, though he
kept most of his weight off her. The hard press of his manhood was a very clear indication
of what he wanted, and had she not been trapped by her dress, she would have rubbed
against it, wanting to feel his virility over every inch of her burning flesh.

Feeling bolder by the minute and desperate to shut off any warring thoughts about
her actions, she lightly scratched her nails across the back of his head and scalp.
If she was going to be reckless, she might as well embrace this new side of herself
to the fullest.

“I do not know how to ask for what I want. I want you to show me.”

Her words drew another groan of appreciation from deep in his chest, and that sound
vibrated from her breasts all the way to her mouth, where his tongue did a wicked
dance around her tongue, eliciting sounds from her she couldn’t hold back. Didn’t
want to hold back.

Finally, he pressed his full weight onto her, his hands caressing her upper arms,
working their way higher until she was forced to loosen her hold in his hair. With
her arms stretched above her head, he clasped her wrists together with one of his
hands, leaving her helpless and unable to move. She liked being trapped by him. Liked
that he had all the control.

She tugged at her hands, testing his hold. In response, he tightened his grip, giving
her a clear indication that he was in charge right now.

“Do not move,” he said with a light bite to her lip that he soothed immediately with
the caress of his lips.

Amelia found herself obeying because she wanted nothing more than to please him. Her
mouth meshed tightly against Mr. Riley’s as they lost themselves in another kiss.

The seductive abrasion of his short clipped beard against her face made her want to
feel that delicious friction the rest of the way down her body. Her rigidness dissolved
as his free hand explored a path over the side of her breast, until it finally stopped
around her ribcage.

Body arching off the bed, she wanted to be closer to him. His hand tightened around
her side, holding her so they were crushed, breast to chest, pelvis to groin.

She let out a surprised yelp when her body jerked forward as he worked the buttons
free at the back of her bodice, tearing a few in the process. He found the ties on
her overskirt and the buckles that held the bustle with an ease that told of his experience
in removing women’s clothing. When he was finished, he pulled her skirts down and
over her hips and released her wrists so he could shed the outer layers of the dress
he’d given her.

Sitting her up, he pulled the bodice off next. He stared down at her for a moment,
his hand tracing over the bones in the corset as he spanned the width of her waist.
It was a simple corset, nothing grand enough for the dress she wore, but it was all
she had. Little green sparrows were embroidered around the edges, top and bottom;
she hadn’t thought much about it until now.

She swallowed, not sure if she could touch him while he explored every part of her.
There was just enough give in the corset that he yanked the front of it lower and
tore the chemise away to expose her breasts to that penetrating gaze of his. It didn’t
occur to her that she should protest. Though his motions were rough, his hands were
tender where they cupped her breast above the bindings.

He released her breast and crushed his mouth against hers. His tongue stole past her
lips with an authority she would never question. The kiss robbed her of breath and
squashed any objecting thoughts. There was nothing except the feel of their bodies
crushed together, his tongue dancing and sliding wickedly over and around hers, tasting
so deeply that he stole her breath away.

Her heart hammered so hard in her chest that she thought Mr. Riley might feel it.
His mouth moved lower, tasting and nibbling a path over her chin, the slender column
of her neck, and her collarbone. He shoved the chemise off her shoulders and then
lay kisses there too.

“Mr. Riley.”

He was suddenly kneeling above her like a predator in wait, wearing an expression
that was half ravenous, half something she couldn’t define, for she’d never seen that
particular look in a man’s eyes.

“Nick,” he corrected her as he lowered his mouth to the top swell of her breasts.
The hard edge of his teeth scraped lightly over her skin, causing her nipples to peak
impossibly hard. She wanted him to suck those berry-colored tips into his mouth.

This time when her hands threaded through his hair, he didn’t stop her; he let her
explore the thick strands before she lowered her hands to his strong shoulders. The
sinew flexed fluidly beneath her hold, mesmerizing her, encouraging and daring her
to explore more.

A small part of her knew she needed to ask him to stop. But she’d come this far, hadn’t
she? She didn’t want to turn back when it felt so right. She didn’t want to stop when
she’d never needed a man to do wicked things to her like she wanted Nick to do to
her right now.

And she knew this wasn’t the absinthe talking. This was all her. Her desires, her
wants.

All the air whooshed out of her lungs the moment he drew her nipple sharply into his
mouth. It had her arching off the bed to get closer to him. The sensation was unlike
anything she’d ever felt, and it unfurled a new awareness in other parts of her body.
The butterflies in her stomach seemed to rush lower, and she felt herself dampen between
her legs. Slickness coated her inner thighs as she rubbed them together, desperate
for a different kind of touch. Her heart was still racing a mile a minute, and she
felt her breasts grow heavier in want of his hands and mouth all over them.

A high keening sound passed her lips when his teeth scraped over the tip of her nipple
before he released it to move on to the next.

The cool evening air washed over her bared breasts when he knelt above her. She had
a strong urge to cover herself, and he must have read that intent in her expression.
“Don’t hide yourself from me.” His command was firm, and one she didn’t hesitate to
obey.

She watched him watching her, his gaze trailing along the path his mouth had just
taken. How could a look be so erotic? Her breathing came faster, and goose bumps washed
over her body. Her nipples were hard peaks of pink, just begging for his mouth to
land on them again. She’d never seen herself like this, never imagined showing herself
like this to a man. Never imagined wanting the things she wanted right now.