Seven Nights to Forever (30 page)

“No. No reason,” he replied quickly. If she wanted to indulge here, he was more than willing and eager to accommodate her. Pushing back, he made to stand but stopped, hands braced on the arms of his chair. “Are you certain this is what you want?”

He held his breath, almost trembling with barely suppressed need.
Please,
please
, say yes, Rose
.

That smile turned positively sinful. “Yes. Quite certain.” She stepped between his casually spread legs and cupped his jaw. “Thank you for last night,” she said, gravity briefly filling her gaze. “It meant more to me than you will ever know.” Then her hand dropped down, fingertips coasting down his navy coat, as she leaned in to whisper hotly in his ear. “But I missed you.”

He let out a low grunt as she palmed his hard cock through the placket of his trousers. His eyes drifted closed, savoring the way her fingers slid down his length to trace the needy head. “Damnation, Rose, I missed you, too.”

“So, that break. Yes or no?”

He lifted his hips, pushing into her touch. “You’re holding on to your answer.”

“Indeed I am.”

Her playful chuckle turned into a surprised squeak as he pulled her close, tumbling her onto his lap. Their mouths came together in an urgent kiss. Swift and fierce, the lust he’d kept locked up tight and hidden from view pounded through his veins as though it had been years and not just over twenty-four hours since he’d had the pleasure of her body.

In a flurry of movement, they bared only the essentials. The placket of his trousers yanked open, her skirt shoved to her waist. The wet tip of his cock bumped her inner thigh, the heat of her core so close yet so far away. A growl of frustration rumbled in his chest. Damn chair. The arms on either side kept her from being able to fully straddle his waist.

He twisted his head, breaking the kiss. “Hold on,” he muttered gruffly. Gathering her in his arms, he stood. Her legs came around his waist, her arms about his neck, clinging to him. With his hands cradling her luscious backside, he lowered her onto his shaft.

“Oh,
James
.” His name came out on a low groan, thick and slow as poured honey as he settled to the hilt.

A quick turn and he pressed her back up against the nearby wall and drove into her, snapping his hips. A part of him warned to slow down, to treat her with care, but the desperate moans hitching in her throat urged him onward. Hands gripping his shoulders, she thrust her hips against his, meeting each hard, relentless stroke.

The hot grip of her body, the way her breasts were pressed against his chest, the lightning-quick pants fanning his neck . . . Within no time at all, an orgasm was barreling toward him at breakneck speed. Too fast, too strong to be denied.

Turning, he set her on the edge of his desk. Dropped to his knees, shoved her skirt higher, spread her legs wider. And captured her clit between his lips. There was no teasing at all. No light flicks of his tongue. No lingering over the pure pleasure of giving her pleasure. He sucked hard, needing her to climax before he spilled all over the floorboards. His entire being was focused on her, waiting for the distinctive hitch in her breathy moans, the one that signaled success.

The moment he heard it, he bolted upright and took his cock, still wet from her body, in hand. One stroke and pearly white seed shot from the flushed crown, painting her inner thigh.

Grabbing hold of the edge of the desk, he hung his head and struggled to catch his breath. His knees trembled in the aftermath, barely able to support his weight. With effort, he lifted his head.

Sprawled on his desk, arms braced behind her and with her legs spread exposing the glistening wet folds of her sex, Rose looked absolutely ravished. The once tidy piles of papers were scattered about her. Her hair was a complete mess. The neat knot at her nape was partially undone, tendrils framing her flushed face with a long lock draping her shoulder, a silver pin clinging to the end.

Never had he done anything so impulsive as to take a woman against the wall, let alone on his desk. But damn, it felt good. Beyond good to just let go and fully give in to lust’s demands. Hell, even though he could barely stand, he felt ready to take on anything and everything. He couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You are wonderful, my dear.”

A sated smile curving her lips, she let out a little purr and cupped the back of his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. “I take it you enjoyed the short break?”

“Most assuredly.” If only every day could include such a decadent treat.

He reached down between her legs to pull a handkerchief from a desk drawer. After wiping up his seed, he tossed the soiled linen into the waste bin. Then he lifted her from the desk and buttoned his trousers before he gave in to the urge to have those lovely legs wrapped around his waist yet again.

She shook out her skirt. A few deft flicks of her wrist, and her hair was secured once again in its neat knot. “I’ll leave you to your work, then.”

“You don’t need to leave. You could stay. It’s still raining, so the back terrace is out of the question. I’ve got . . .” He pushed the papers on the desk aside, locating the newspaper he hadn’t yet perused. “The
Times
. And books. Lots of those,” he said, indicating the shelves on either side of the fireplace.

“Are you certain?” Her gaze strayed to his desk. “I do understand that you have responsibilities, James.”

“And I can see to them with you here.” He took hold of her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I just like having you near.”

Her free hand fluttered, fingertips covering her mouth, as her chin tipped down.

“Rose?” Concern leached into his gut. What had he said wrong?

She peered up at him. Her eyes fairly brimming with tears yanked at his heart. “That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me,” she whispered.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He enveloped her in a hug, held her close.

After a long moment she eased back enough to meet his gaze. She gave him a little smile, the threat of tears now gone. “I like being near you, too.”

He chuckled and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “We really are quite the pair, aren’t we?”

“Yes, indeed.”

A light
mist clung to the windows of the study. The late-morning sky was still gray and dreary, offering the perfect weather to loiter near a warm fire. Rose was curled up on the comfortable leather couch with her shawl draped over her legs, covering her stocking-clad feet. Her slippers were on the floor, exactly where she had discarded them an hour ago. The logs in the hearth opposite her popped and crackled, the steady flames vanquishing the chill that threatened to seep into the room.

She flipped to the next page of the
Times
. She made it a point to try to keep up on current events. Blinking like a miss who didn’t have a brain in her head when asked a question about the latest parliamentary debates never presented one in the best light. Though she would admit she found the advertisements much more interesting. Apparently a gentleman was seeking a lady in a purple hat that he had seen outside of Miller’s bakery on Tuesday noon.

There was a soft scratch of a pen followed by the
swoosh
of paper.
James.
She had at first been reluctant to stay. Upon their arrival at the estate, he had said he needed a few hours each morning to see to correspondence from his office. It was the only concession he had asked for their holiday. She hadn’t wanted to disturb him or distract him from his work. She had already pulled him from his desk once today. But the way he had asked, the hope in his eyes, as if just by staying she’d grant him his fondest wish . . .

She certainly could not have refused, nor had she wanted to. She could think of no better way to pass a rainy day than right here, near James.

Smiling to herself, she reached for the teacup on the end table and took a sip. A few minutes later a light tap on the door pulled her attention from the newspaper.

Mrs. Webb poked her gray head around the half-open door. “Mr. Archer, the post has arrived.”

James flicked his fingers, motioning for her to enter. She set the stack on the corner of his desk and then refilled his cup from the coffeepot on the nearby cabinet.

“More tea, Miss Rose?”

With a smile of thanks, she declined the offer.

“Is there anything either of you would like in particular for supper this evening?”

Rose looked to James. At his inquiring expression, she gave him a little shrug. What was served mattered little as long as he was at the table with her.

“Chicken?” he asked.

She tipped her head. “Sounds delightful.”

“Chicken it is, then.” He turned to Mrs. Webb. “Perhaps Webb could roast it with rosemary, like he did on my last visit. That was quite good.”

“Yes, it was,” she said with a nod. “Consider it done.” With that, the housekeeper left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Rose turned her attention back to the newspaper as James sorted through the post. The sounds of him working were oddly comforting. The flick of paper, the creaks of his chair as he shifted his weight. He let out a soft amused sound, just the barest beginnings of a chuckle. She glanced to him. A smile curved his mouth.

“Good news?”

He looked up from the letter in his hand. “It’s from my sister, Rebecca. She is enjoying herself immensely in Town and the Season hasn’t even started yet. I’ve never known a girl to be so taken with the idea of shopping and afternoon calls.”

Rose remembered his sister from that day at Hyde Park. A beautiful and vivacious young woman. Though she had only met the girl once and hadn’t spoken but a few words to her, she knew she was as sweet as James was kind.

“She also bade me to send you her well wishes.”

“She did?” Rose asked, going still.

James tipped his head. “Apparently I was much too happy the morning of our departure, and you must have made an impression on her. She actually asked me if Miss Rose would be traveling to Honey House as well.” Paper crinkled as he refolded the letter and put it in a desk drawer. “Suffice it to say, it wasn’t the most comfortable conversation to have with one’s young sister,” he said, using a silver letter opener to break the seal on another letter from the stack.

“Understandable,” she murmured, dropping her gaze to the newspaper on her lap, as the blissful feeling of content happiness drained out of her. Every last drop of it. Gone.

Dear Lord.
How very improper it had been for him to have introduced his sister to her at the park. Gently bred young ladies were not even supposed to know women like her existed.

And she was at fault. She should not have smiled at him when she had first laid eyes on him standing there along the lane. Should have tipped her head in acknowledgment and turned, saving him the embarrassment. That moment crystallized with startling clarity in her mind—the way the smile in his eyes had dimmed for a brief second, the furrow flickering across his brow, before he had walked toward her. The pause before he had introduced his sister.

Ever the gentleman, he hadn’t slighted her. He hadn’t turned his back to her. Yet he had known, even though in her joy to see him she had forgotten, that such introductions were more than frowned upon by polite society.

All his kindness, all the compassion and care he showed her, didn’t change the fact that she was not the type of woman a decent gentleman ever wanted to introduce to his sister. James would never want his beloved sister to be like her, and he would never, ever be proud to have her on his arm.

Pain stabbed into her chest. Lancing at her heart. Stealing her breath. And it hurt so very much because she knew, at that moment, that she had done the unthinkable. A truth she could no longer deny.

She had done what she had promised herself she would never do.

The hurt welled up inside, pricking the corners of her eyes, the pain nearly overwhelming her. She needed to get out of the study.
Now.

Carefully folding the paper, she set it next to her hip and then slipped her feet into her slippers. She swallowed hard a couple of times before she felt confident enough to speak without a telling waver in her voice. “If you’ll excuse me, the weather is so dreary I’m going to rest for a bit.”

Looking up from the post, James gifted her with an indulgent smile, one so distinctly
him
that she hadn’t a clue how she kept the polite mask fixed on her face. “All right, my dear. I shan’t keep you, though I do thank you for keeping me company.”

The house wasn’t large by any means, but the walk upstairs seemed to stretch on indefinitely. Her carefully measured paces much too slow. Her knees so weak she wasn’t at all sure she would be able to make it to the safety of her bedchamber.

As she turned down the short corridor, she resisted the urge to bolt that last remaining distance. When she finally reached her destination, she shut the door, her every movement so controlled her arm visibly trembled.