Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I t was her first kiss. It was odd and wonderful, strange and extraordinary. The strength of Harrison’s body stood before her like a wall, keeping her upright, tempting her to lean against him while his lips pressed against hers, their silken texture alluring and strange.

Phee pulled back, her lips tingling from the contact, and her hand rose to touch them, certain his kiss had altered them in some way.

“Phoebe?” Harrison asked, her name a question. A plead?

Meeting his gaze, his brown eyes hooded, his cheeks slightly flushed, Phee knew she had to know more. “Again,” she said, pushing onto her toes to take his lips once more.

It was a fireworks show without the sound, a sonata without the buzz of onlookers. Harrison growled as his fingers delved into her hair, tangling in the strands as they cupped her head, holding her close to him, the few pins that resided there falling to the ground. The pull of the motion heightened the connection, churned the butterflies that fluttered chaotically in her stomach and dampened the space between her legs. It was chaos and comfort, longing and care, battling inside of her as her hands fumbled for purchase, desperate to hold onto something as her husband upended her world with his honeyed lips. Phee flicked her tongue against his lush bottom lip, wanting more, needing a taste of the heaven that was him, and Harrison readily agreed to her request, opening to meet her, tempting her to explore and taste.

It’s worse, she thought, as he pulled away, changing the angle of his delicious destruction. Her want of him, as she had suspected, grew much worse. Her heart pounded in her ears, its thumping a sturdy tempo, keeping her aware that she was, indeed, alive. Very much so.

Phee’s hands slid up Harrison’s jacket, inspecting each dip and pivot of his chest, and instead of soothing the chaos that threatened to overwhelm her, her strokes against his clothed body sent her blood humming as her mind weaved delicious pictures of what the expanse might look like. The images were devastating and she would have bit her lip to stifle the whimper if they were not already entertained. Instead, the noise escaped, the need in it so heavy Phee wondered for a moment if the sound had truly come from her.

It was that noise that seemed to shake Harrison from the moment, and he stepped back from her, his lips parting from hers, leaving only a soft sting. Phee stumbled at the loss of him, her hands gripping the linen of his shirt, and her nails raked his covered skin eliciting a growl.

Taking one of her hands from his chest, Harrison guided her to the white tufted couch, setting her down before kneeling before her. His hand rose to her cheek, the soft tips of his fingers grazing her skin as he cupped her face, his thumb rubbing against her bottom lip as if soothing the tortured skin.

“Phoebe,” he said, her name a whisper. “Phoebe, look at me.” When she met his gaze, he smiled. His normally neat hair was disheveled, his cravat hanging limp about his neck and his breaths were labored, as if he had just run through London to be by her side. “How do you feel?”

Her brow knit at his question, her mind taking account of each part of her body. Her lips tingled, her skin was warm, her heart raced, and her whole body yearned. It was the yearning that was most disconcerting, a sort of hunger that was unknown and uneasily satiated, and she sighed in frustration at its appearance. “Unfulfilled,” she said.

Harrison chuckled at her words, the sound deep and guttural, making her clench with need. What would that sound feel like against her lips? Her skin. What would the hand that so gently cupped her cheek do if the neckline of her day dress were loosened, if she stood before him in nothing but her chemise. Her cheeks heated at her wayward thoughts, but not with embarrassment, no. With need. With need for him.

Leaning forward, Phee cupped his cheek in return, letting her lips brush against his, her sigh foreign to her own ears. He waited not a moment, his lips capturing hers in a devastating kiss that nearly sent her to her knees beside him. There was a power there, a need inside him that was barely contained as his tongue slid against hers, his teeth nibbling on her bottom lip. His hands were gentle, his caresses sweet, but Phee knew the capacity behind that kind of control, had seen him manipulate a block of clay into any shape he wanted. And instead of running from it, she wanted to dive into it, have it surround her like the swarm it no doubt was.

“Phoebe,” Harrison said against her lips, before resting his forehead against hers as his strong hands move to her shoulders, effectively holding her still. “Phoebe, this is dangerous. You’re dangerous.”

“Don’t be silly,” she said on an exhale. “I’m just me.”

He smirked, one corner of his mouth raising in such an alluring way that she had to bite her lip to stop from reaching for him again. “You truly have no understanding what you do to me.” He brushed his lips against hers and said on a whisper, “Just you.”

“Harrison,” she said, hypnotized by the smooth glide of his lips.

“My sweet-honeyed wife,” he said, his soft voice velvety smooth. “If only you could hear my heart every time it is in your vicinity, hear how desperately I long for you. The beating alone is so furious I’m certain I’ll combust.”

Phee pulled back, her eyes shooting to his brown gaze, searching the depths for any sign of insincerity. Instead, she found only honesty as he met her stare. “You can’t mean that,” she said.

He frowned, his hand reaching for her own and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I do, Phoebe. I truly do.” With a sigh, he pulled back, resting his hands against his thighs. “That, perhaps, is the scariest part.”

“Why?

“Because it was not part of our contract,” he said. “And not only is it not part, but it was expressly stated that it was unnecessary.”

“Our contract,” she said, her eyes falling to his disheveled cravat.

He closed his eyes for a pause, then met her gaze. “And if we’re both being honest, it is a rather large piece that not only requires thought on both our parts, but a renegotiation if it is something we were to pursue. I don’t want to disrupt this friendship we have forged.” He took her hand. “I want to do what you want to do, Phoebe. In whatever regard that is. And I’ll never pressure you for things you don’t want.”

Phee remained silent, her eyes fixed on the hand that enveloped her own, its reassuring caresses sending tendrils of warmth along her body, stoking the fire he had already created. Yet, even as her physical self pleaded for her to throw away caution and retake his lips, her mind screamed at her to access the situation. Such a large decision would alter the entire makeup of their arrangement, the comfort she had found in his home and by his side suddenly becoming a rather large gamble to lose should things ever go awry.

Harrison squeezed her hand before leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead, the action forcing one corner of her mouth to lift in a smile at the loveable act.

“I want to do what you want to do, Phoebe, whatever that is,” he said. “Take as much time as you need to think it over. I’ll follow your lead either way.”

With a gentle brush of his lips against hers, Harrison stood and left the room, the removal of his presence leaving Phee unnervingly empty. Even as a piece of her longed to call him back, to tell him that it mattered not what the effects were of them following that path, she knew that afterward, she would ruminate over it obsessively. No, it was best for them both if she were truly certain that this new facet of their relationship was one she wanted to embark on fully. Because fully it would be.

If his kisses were any indication of the power that he could wield over her, Phee knew that the rest would no doubt be a labyrinth of sinful pleasure and divine delights of which she could only imagine. It was intoxicating, this hold he had over her, and as with any addiction, she would want to drown in its every facet if it meant that Harrison was by her side, conducting the illicit pleasures that only he could arise. But it would change everything.

Standing, Phee let out a long sigh, her shoulders slumping at the motion. The best course of action would be to create a list of pros and cons regarding this new addendum to be sure that she could handle any unforeseen changes. That they both could handle them.

Yet, after three long hours, countless sheets of paper, and several cups of tea, Phee could not seem to find anything positive that might come from beginning a physical relationship with Harrison. Each list of cons grew and grew as she thought on every possibility, every potentiality they might happen upon. Meanwhile, the only positive she could find in the bunch was that she would no longer feel the absurd longing for him that had seemed to overcome her senses making it hard for her to even think without him slipping into her thoughts.

Phee frowned as she stared at the list before her, her writing instrument tapping against her lip as if it were a magic wand merely waiting to change the words before her. But no amount of magic would change the truth of the matter. Their arrangement was solid and unsurprising as it was, any changes to it would remove any stability she might find there. And lack of stability was one thing she did not handle well. It helped when things were certain and surprises were few, and the feelings Harrison elicited were anything but stable. She wanted to crawl inside him, drown in his touch, kiss him whenever the whim demanded, and see how much strength those muscles of his had. It was whimsical, fairy sort of stuff and she had never been one for fairy tales.

Yet, sadness pulled at her. A loss for no doubt what could have been had she made a love match to a dashing man. Instead, she was merely Phee, a spinster engaged in a contract marriage with a remarkably handsome and extremely tender-hearted man who had his own reasons for entering such an agreement.

But he wanted her.

Shaking her head, Phee stood from the chair at her desk and shook out her skirts, the motion eliciting a meow of protest from Mildred who rested on her blanket. This evening would involve the one ball she had agreed to for the month and were she honest with herself, her energy would be better spent preparing for an evening of hell rather than attempting several lists in the hopes that she could continue to kiss her husband.

Her stomach tightened at the thought of the crushing bodies and repulsive smells that she had before her tonight and even if she could will back the bliss she had found that afternoon in the library with Harrison, her nerves would not allow it. The earl and countess would make their first official appearance as a couple, speculation of their quick marriage already filling the gossip pages of the paper, and Phee could not stop the clenching of her shoulders as she imagined the hours of horror before her. If anything, it was another con to add to her list of why she could never follow through with these feelings for Harrison. He seemed to revel in the social aspect of society, longed for it with a frenzy she would never understand.

That in and of itself should be the largest indicator that they should not be together.