I Kissed a Rogue (Covent Garden Cubs) (18 page)

“I’m not certain I understand,” Brook finally said, his words slow and deliberate.

“You understand.”

“Indulge me. If I am unable to give you pleasure, you want to
remain
married to me?”

“Yes.”

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly puzzled. “I am not one of those men who think women mysterious creatures, but I will admit you have me mystified.”

“Do you need to understand them to agree?”

“No.” He gave her his attention again, and the feeling was heady. When Brook focused on her, she felt it in every fiber of her being. “I agree. If I fail to pleasure you—by your honest admission—then I will not pursue annulment.”

“Very good. Then those are the stakes.” She glanced at the bed, wondering if she should go to it or if he would lead her there. How long would this take? How long until she would be safe from this ruinous annulment?

His finger caught her chin and dragged her gaze back to him. “Those are only half the stakes, my lady. There’s the question of what prize I receive if I win.”

She jerked her chin away. “I should think that is obvious. If you win, you are free to rid yourself of me.”

“I’m free to do that without agreeing to the wager. What do I receive if I do agree?”

“And win.”

He inclined his head, ever the gentleman although they were wagering over bedsport.

Lila hadn’t considered this aspect of the agreement. She had no idea what to grant him. “What do you want?”

“This is your wager. You set the terms and the stakes. I won’t have you agree to something you can’t stomach.”

Frustrated, she paced away from him. “This would be easier if you didn’t act so much the gentleman.”

He laughed, and she whipped around at the sound. “Don’t worry,
wife
, I won’t play the gentleman much longer.”

Lila shivered. He meant he wouldn’t behave like a gentleman when he took her to bed. The thought terrified and excited her equally.

“But I always honor my bets.” He took a seat in the chair. “Take your time, if you like. We have all night.”

She didn’t want to take her time. She wanted this over and done. She couldn’t stand the anticipation of what he might or might not do to her. Couldn’t stand having him look at her with that knowing look. She wanted to know too.

And yes, if she was being honest, she wanted him to kiss her again.

“I don’t need more time. If you win, I will…” She had no idea what she had that she could give him. He didn’t want money. He didn’t seem to care for status or power. The only thing he seemed to want was her. “I will do whatever you want.”

His brows rose. “Would you like to qualify that?”

Lord, he really did not cheat. She had left herself vulnerable, and he wouldn’t even take advantage of that. How would she not fall in love with him?

“Yes. I will do whatever you want within reason.”

“Too vague.”

“Are you a barrister?”

He laughed. “No, but I know far too many of them. Might I make a suggestion, which you are free to take or reject or modify?”

“Of course.”

“You might agree to do whatever I want for one night.”

Oh, but that sounded incredibly wicked. She hadn’t considered that he might want a carnal favor from her. She had meant he might ask her to collect wood or heat water. He wanted none of those things, of course. He wanted her.

“One night is a long time,” she said, trying not to imagine his naked chest on the bed beneath her.

“Time is relative, but now you are thinking along the correct lines.”

She considered for several moments, choosing and discarding several wicked, wicked—in her opinion, at least—options. Finally, she decided it did not matter. She did not intend to lose.

“I will grant you one request.”

“Any request?”

She sensed danger, but he was a gentleman. He would not take advantage of her. “Yes. One request. Anything you ask.”

“Very well.” He rose. “I give you my word that I shall adhere to the conditions set forth.”

“I also agree. Is that all then? Do we sign papers or shake hands?”

“A gentleman’s word is his bond, but if you prefer to see this in writing—”

How mortifying! “No. That is not necessary. I trust you.”

“Good. You’ll need to trust me.”

“I will?”

“Absolutely. Because now is when I stop acting the gentleman.”

“Oh.”

Nothing overt about him changed. His face didn’t turn demonic. He didn’t sprout horns or a forked tail. Instead, he walked to the bed and sat, calmly removing his boots. Then he looked up at her, his eyes dark with what even she recognized as desire.

“Lila, take off your clothes.”

Eleven

If her startled gasp and choked “I beg your pardon” were any indication, he’d shocked her. If all went as planned, he’d shock her further before the night was over.

“Come here, Lila.”

“Why?” she asked, eyes wary.

If he told her plainly, she’d probably recommence negotiations. He had no doubt she’d fulfill her end of the bargain, but she liked everything on her terms.

“So we might have a conversation without yelling across the room.” The room was far too small for any yelling to be necessary, but Lila seemed to accept this response. She crossed to him, standing primly before him.

Brook was surprised at how much he liked her primness. It made him want to strip it away, layer by layer, like he might a high-necked dress. He’d never tangled with an innocent before, but he didn’t feel particularly guilty. He hadn’t deceived her or been dishonest. She’d agreed to the arrangement and even set the terms. His motives weren’t particularly honorable, but he would honor the terms of the agreement. If she conceived a child, he would care for it. If she didn’t experience pleasure, he would not petition for an annulment.

And wasn’t that an interesting request? Why would she want to stay married to him, especially when she had made it quite clear the first time he’d proposed marriage she wouldn’t marry him even if he were the last man on earth.

Had her feelings toward him changed? More likely she worried what the
ton
would say about an annulment.

Brook took her hand in his, a small gesture that caused her to pull back from him. Her ice-cold hand tensed in his.

“You’re cold.”

“I’m actually quite warm, thank you. I will leave my clothing on.”

“If you wish.”

He’d have her undressed before the night was through, but he wouldn’t force the issue. She’d want him to take her dress off.

He moved to the side, making room for her on the bed. “Sit beside me.”

“I would prefer to stand.”

“Very well.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I won’t hurt you, you know. If you don’t enjoy something, you may ask me to stop.”

“I do wish you’d stop talking so much. The more you talk, the more nervous I feel. Just do whatever it is you want to do already.”

He opened her hand and kissed the inside of her palm, feeling her shiver. “So you’re a romantic, I take it.”

She laughed, and her hand relaxed slightly. He brushed his lips over the tender skin of the heel of her hand, tracing a path to her wrist.

“I suppose I don’t know much about romance. I know it stems from love. You don’t love me, and I…I don’t love you.”

He raised his gaze to her face, interested in her hesitation. Why had she stumbled over that admission? Did she hate him more than he thought or like him more than she wished?

He pressed his lips to her wrist, feeling the rapid tap of her pulse.

“I do wish you would stop that,” she said.

“Stop what?” he asked, darting his tongue out to taste her skin. It tasted like smoke from the hearth and something unique that could only be her. “Be specific.”

“Stop doing that with your mouth.”

Brook pulled back. “You don’t enjoy it?”

“I…it makes me feel…uncomfortable.”

“Warm?” He ran his hands up her arms.

“Yes.”

“Short of breath?” He stood and ran his hands down her back to rest on her waist. She had a small waist. He ached to move his fingers lower and explore the curve of her hips. All in time.

“Yes, exactly.” She tilted her head to look up at him.

“Like you want something but aren’t quite sure what?”

She nodded.

Brook bent and placed his mouth beside her ear. She tried to pull away, but he held her in place. He allowed his breath to tease her skin, felt her shiver.

“I know what you want,” he whispered in her ear. He kissed the tender skin of her jaw just below her earlobe.

She exhaled softly and swayed toward him.

“I know the name for what you feel.” He kissed her earlobe.

“What is that?” Her voice was breathless, and he didn’t think she realized her hands had come up to clutch his chest.

“Arousal.” He allowed his lips to trail over the curve of her jaw, moving one hand from her waist to the small of her back. Gently, he pulled her body against his, then touched his lips to hers.

The kiss was chaste and light, a kiss designed to calm her. She’d been kissed like this before. If he had to guess, he would have said half a dozen men had stolen a kiss like this from her on a moonlit terrace or behind a potted plant at a ball. He’d kissed her like this once upon a time.

He pressed light kisses over her lips until she relaxed against him. She didn’t fear this. Neither did it fire her blood, but that would come soon enough. Brook allowed his lips to linger a little longer, press more firmly. She responded tentatively, her own lips moving against his.

She was comfortable, and that had to change.

He pulled back slightly. Her eyes were closed, her face tilted up to his. Deliberately, he lowered his mouth to hers and traced the seam of her lips with his tongue. Her eyes snapped open.

“What are you doing?”

“Kissing you.”

“With your tongue?”

He raised a brow. “You’ve never been kissed like that before?”

“I…”

“It’s very French, quite fashionable these days.”

“Oh.”

Brook almost smiled. Trust Lila to want to be in fashion, whether that meant her clothing or the way she kissed.

“May I continue?” he asked. “You haven’t told me to stop.”

Her lips pursed, but she nodded. “I suppose.”

He began again, not because he felt the need to proceed in a particular order but because she would not be expecting it. As he predicted, when he repeated the light, familiar kisses, she relaxed again. She even leaned into him, her body asking for what her mind did not even know she wanted.

He traced her lips with the tip of his tongue, nudging them open until they softened and parted. He kissed her more deeply and with more passion until her hands fisted on the lawn of his shirt.

He tasted her, his tongue dipping just inside her lips to sample what she offered. Her body stiffened again, then relaxed when he kept his attentions light and controlled. Brook hadn’t expected to struggle with his control, but the taste of her aroused him more than he’d expected. She tasted of the wine they’d drunk and the bread they’d feasted on, but beneath that was the taste of her—of Lila.

He hadn’t expected the sensuality or the richness of her. Those full lips teased him, inviting him to take more when he knew she would balk if he moved too quickly. But he wanted more. He wanted all of her. Desperately.

And when she touched the tip of her tongue to his, a quick tentative taste, he almost lost all control. He broke the kiss and rested his forehead on hers, catching his breath. His erection strained at the fall of his trousers, his blood thundering in his ears and his body begging for release.

“Have I done something wrong?” she asked when he didn’t resume kissing her.

They stood locked in an embrace, their heads touching, his lips only a few inches from hers.

“No. You’re perfect,” he said and meant it.

“But when I kissed you in the French style, did I do it wrong?”

He smiled, even as thunder rumbled in the distance. Oh, if she were intent of playing the student, he could definitely play the instructor.

“You did it exactly right. You aroused me, and I had to pause to gain control.”

She nudged her head up, looking into his eyes. “Why? I thought you…that we…”

“Tonight is for you, Lila,” he said. “For your pleasure. Not mine.”

“You don’t want anything?”

He kissed her lips again because he couldn’t resist. “I want everything, but I’m in no hurry. And besides, there’s a wager to win.”

She turned her head. “Wouldn’t want to be saddled with me for life.”

He made no answer. He did not intend to lose the wager or to stay married to her, but she had set the terms of the bet.

“I hate to disappoint you, sir, but you will lose. I will admit kissing you is quite nice, but then again, so is a playing a piano sonata or chatting over embroidery with friends.”

Brook laughed. “I must say, my lovemaking has never been compared to embroidery before.”

“I enjoy embroidery.”

“I’m sure you do,” Brook said. “In the morning, I’ll ask again how the two compare.”

This time he gave her no prelude, no gentle, soft kisses. Instead, he took her mouth hard and possessively. She might have protested had he allowed it, but he kissed her deeply, kissed her until her legs gave way and she moaned. He lowered her onto the bed, positioning his knees on either side of her thighs. His hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers tangled in the silky mass of her dark hair, his mouth tasting that erotic mix of wine and Lila.

And when he was breathless and feverish with want, she wrapped her hands around his neck and kissed him back. She proved a cunning pupil, her mouth and lips taking his as completely as he’d taken hers. What she lacked in skill and finesse, she made up for in passion.

Brook was hard-pressed not to toss her skirts and take her hard and fast.

He’d lose the wager, of course, but at this point he hardly cared.

He pulled away, dipped his mouth to taste the skin of her neck, the hollow beneath her jaw. She smelled sweet and tempting, the scent of lily of the valley clinging to her skin. He flicked a tongue out, tasting her, ratcheting up his need, although he’d resolved not to succumb to it. She arched at his attentions, but he ignored her upthrust breasts. He would have liked to bare them, kiss them, taste the hard points he could see through the thin layers she wore. Instead, he linked his fingers with hers and pressed her hands to the pillow beside her head.