Chapter Fifteen

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Thursday Night, The Onyx Club

" L ooking fer some fun, lovey?" a blond woman in a scarlet-colored gown and matching mask asked Meredith. She was sitting at the bar waiting for Griffin to arrive. The woman had just materialized at her side.

Meredith had thought about it quite a lot, and she'd already decided she would not tell Griffin she knew it was him. Because for all she knew, it wasn't him. After all, he hadn't taken off his mask. He hadn't admitted it. He certainly hadn't acted any differently toward her at the Harrisons' ball. She'd begun to wonder if she'd been imagining the entire resemblance.

On the other hand, what if it was him? What would he say to her tonight? Would he admit his identity? Honestly, it was fascinating to consider. No doubt he wanted to tell her the truth. She guessed he hadn't told her last time because she'd been drunk and kissing him. If it truly was him, she could only imagine his guilt .

The truth was that she hoped he would not admit his identity tonight. First, there were no names here at the club. That was a rule for a reason. But there was another reason she didn't want him to admit who he was, a reason she would only admit to herself. A reason that had come to her in the dead of night and shocked her with both its intensity and its veracity. If Griffin admitted who he was, or if she admitted she knew it was him, she couldn't kiss him again. Because kissing him again—doing anything scandalous with him again—under any other pretext than pretending they were strangers would be wrong. He was her friend, and she was supposed to be helping him find a wife , for heaven's sake. And the truth was…she desperately wanted to kiss him again. Perhaps more importantly, she wanted to find out if he wanted to kiss her again.

So, no, the man she was set to meet tonight was not Griffin. He could not be Griffin because she couldn't go upstairs with Griffin, and she definitely wanted to go upstairs again. If not-Griffin attempted to tell her the truth, she would just have to stop him. Thankfully, the club rules were just the excuse she needed.

"I'm…meeting someone," Meredith replied to the blond woman who was still indolently watching her. She tried not to stare, but the woman had on more powder and rouge than Meredith had ever seen. Was she a harlot? Oh, she had so many questions for her, but none of them were probably appropriate to ask.

"I've got somethin' fer ye. If ye're interested." The lady's light brows waggled.

Meredith cleared her throat. She'd read of things like ménage à trois and no doubt this was the sort of place where one could partake in such goings on, but how exactly could Meredith make it clear she wasn't interested? She didn't want to hurt his woman's feelings. "I… I don't think so." There. Would that suffice?

"Ah, but ye 'aven't even seen wot I got ta offer."

To Meredith's surprise, the woman pulled a short stack of cards from her bodice. She splayed them on the top of the bar in front of Meredith.

"It's a card game," the woman explained. "Erotic cards, that is. For ye and yer lover, when 'e arrives, per'aps?"

Erotic ? Meredith glanced at the cards. They were covered with men and women in different stages of undress. "Oh," she murmured, leaning down to take a closer look. That was interesting.

The woman bent over and whispered into Meredith's ear. By the time the lady had finished detailing precisely how the card game worked, Meredith was quite interested indeed. In fact, it sounded like just the game to play with Griffin— No! Not Griffin. Mr. Sapphire . That was his name. That's what she would call him. Much easier to pretend that way.

If he arrived.

"Two quid," the woman offered, eyeing Meredith up and down. "Cuz ye look like ye can afford it, me lady."

Meredith didn't deny it. She quickly fished in her reticule and pulled out the money. She slid it across the bar top to the woman.

"'ave fun, lovey," the woman said with a wink before dropping the money into her bodice and disappearing into the crowd.

Meredith gathered the cards and hid them in her own bodice. A small smile popped to her lips as she downed the rest of her glass of champagne. She'd just purchased a scandalous deck of cards. And she had every intention of playing them with a man she was almost certain was her best friend . What else would she do tonight? With her not-so-mysterious lover? Honestly, she couldn't wait to find out .

She shook out her shoulders as a slow burn made its way through her body. She'd spent a considerable amount of time fantasizing about tonight. Which was why she was only drinking champagne this evening. She didn't want Griff—Mr. Sapphire!—to accuse her of being inebriated. Not tonight. Tonight, she wanted him to kiss her again, touch her again. The cards couldn't hurt either.

When the barkeep came around, she declined a second glass of champagne. Instead, she watched with interest as the masked ladies all around her flirted shamelessly with their gentlemen. She spied them carefully, determined to learn a few things.

Another quarter hour passed before she allowed her gaze to scour the darkened club again. She'd yet to see her Mr. Sapphire, and with each passing moment, she feared that he'd decided against meeting her again. Perhaps that was Griffin's plan so that he would not have to reveal himself. If he never returned, he would never have to confess. But that also meant that he didn't want her as much as she wanted him. Had he only gone along with everything last time because she'd been foxed? The thought made her frown. She drummed her fingertips against the bar top. Was this madness? Should she just go home?

Probably.

Perhaps she should have one more glass of champagne. What would it matter if he wasn't coming? She was about to flag down the barkeep when she felt it. An internal jolt, a sense, a knowing . He was here.

She sat up straight and glanced toward the back of the room just as he stepped through the black curtains. He was wearing his black mask and another dark-blue waistcoat. Her breath caught in her throat. He was so handsome. More handsome than she even remembered. And yes, he was Griffin. She was certain of it now. How could she ever have not known? His firm jawline. His broad shoulders. The way he carried himself. Griffin . She made a mental note to be more careful with brandy in future.

He had been searching the crowd, and when she glanced at him again, it only took moments for their gazes to lock. He inclined his head in greeting before making his way unerringly toward her.

When he reached her side, he bowed. "Good evening, my lady." His deep voice went straight to her core. She shifted on her seat.

His familiar scent, like pine and the ocean, wafted over her. She must have been frightened and inebriated indeed to have not recognized him last time. She wanted to put her arms around his neck and her nose to the crook and breathe him in.

"I'd begun to worry you wouldn't come back," she replied, drawing her fingertip along the edge of her bodice to draw his attention to her breasts. The other women here tonight seemed to do that often. An excellent idea.

His eyes were immediately drawn to the spot she'd hoped. Then he eyed her up and down. Tonight she was wearing a ruby-colored gown that was every bit as revealing as the one she'd worn last time. His dark eyes flared. He obviously liked it.

"Never think it," he replied. "But there's something I must tell you."

"Let's go upstairs first." No doubt that had sounded particularly forward, but Meredith was dedicated to being forward tonight. And she had no intention of listening to his confession if, indeed, that was his intent. Behind these masks, they could be anyone they wanted to be. They weren't Meredith and Griffin, friends with a complicated history and no business kissing. They were simply two people who wanted each other. They could pretend and keep pretending. And that's precisely what Meredith wanted.

Fortunately, he didn't argue. She watched him hungrily as he ordered two glasses of champagne and requested the key to a room just like last time.

After he'd secured the champagne flutes and the key, they silently made their way upstairs together. When they stopped at the door to the room, Meredith lifted her brows. "Room seven again?"

"It's a lucky number, is it not?" he drawled.

"I hope so," she said, lowering her lashes over her eyes and then glancing up at him in the same coquettish way she'd seen the ladies do downstairs.

He unlocked the door and ushered her inside.

The moment the door closed behind them, Meredith turned to him in a swirl of red skirts. "Care to play?"

She had no intention of allowing him to speak first. If he told her the truth tonight, he would ruin everything. And she deserved this. This night. One more night of pleasure with no strings attached. What did it matter that Griffin was the one behind the mask? She wanted him. She guessed he wanted her. There was plenty of time to go back to their duchess-hunting tomorrow. Oh, she had a tug of guilt for whoever the lady was that Griffin had already decided to marry. But he had yet to begin his courtship. He'd told her as much. And what his future duchess didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Besides, Meredith would put an end to this before he actually became betrothed. Of course she would.

One of his dark brows had shot up. "Play what?"

She slowly pulled the deck of cards from her indecently low bodice. "A card game. I'm told it's quite diverting."

His eyes sparkled beneath his obsidian mask. "What is the game?"

"The club had these cards specially made," Meredith continued, repeating what the woman downstairs had told her. "Each card has one item of clothing for a man and a woman listed on it. You must remove the item on the card when you draw it."

His mouth quirked. "How does one win the game?"

"The winner is the one with the most clothes left when the cards run out."

"Are you certain that's not the loser?" He laughed. A deep throaty laugh that made Meredith rub her thighs together in anticipation. She wanted him again. Tonight. And if she played this card game correctly, they would end up naked together in bed. A thrill shot through her.

She tipped the flute to her lips, set it down, and then took a seat on the bed. He moved over and placed his drink next to hers. She was trying to shuffle the deck when his gaze locked on hers, and his large hand covered her small one. He took the cards from her and the deck came to life within his fingers. He quickly shuffled them a half dozen ways. The cards flew through the air between his palms, making a whirring noise. Griffin always had been an expert at shuffling cards. She should have realized long before now he was good with his hands. She bit her lip. Oh, what a wicked thought.

He offered her the deck again. "Before we play, there's something I must?—"

"No," Meredith insisted, still intent on keeping up their ruse. "You sound far too serious. Let's play first." She pulled the cards from his hands and set the deck atop the quilt. "Ladies first?"

He nodded. Thank God. He hadn't insisted. Which meant he wanted this too. She shuddered with relief as she turned over the first card.

The card contained five words: hair pins or top hat .

She pushed herself up on her knees and slowly moved her hands to the back of her neck. One by one, she pulled out her hairpins.

His eyes danced with dark fire as he watched the mass of her thick hair fall below her shoulders. She shook it out.

"You're gorgeous," he whispered.

"Thank you," she replied. His words reminded her of when he'd said she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen last time. Had he meant that? Had he truly meant it?

She lowered herself back to the mattress and pointed to the cards. "Your turn."

He took a deep breath and flipped over the next card. Gloves or cravat .

"Seeing as I'm not wearing any gloves, I suppose the cravat must go," he drawled.

Meredith watched in fascination as his deft fingers moved up to his neck. With one swift tug, he had the cravat undone. Then he easily unwound it and tossed it aside. His shirt fell open, exposing a muscled chest with a light dusting of dark hair. She licked her lips.

He splayed his hand toward the deck. "My lady."

Squirming with anticipation, Meredith moved her fingers to the cards and flipped the next one. Slippers or boots .

She daintily lifted her legs in the air and kicked off first one slipper, then the other.

"I'll remove my boots too," he offered, shucking them. "Which means it's your turn again."

She flipped another card onto the smaller stack. Shift or drawers . "Oh, my."

His brow quirked. "That means…"

"That means I must take off my gown too, I suppose." A shiver went through her.

"That means I win?" he breathed.

"And I win too." She was already off the bed and plucking at the buttons at the side of her gown .

"Wait." He stood beside her, his hand on hers, stilling her.

She frowned. "Why?"

"We played our game, but I still need to tell you something first. It's important."

No. No. No. No . She couldn't allow that to happen. "I don't want to hear any confessions."

"I must tell you who I am."

"Absolutely not!" Her voice was forceful. She lifted her face to his. "You're breaking the rules." Thank God for the rules .

He traced the line of her throat with one fingertip and the hint of a smile touched his lips. "Aren't rules made to be broken, sweetheart?"

She swallowed. She just wanted him to keep touching her like that. To keep his mask on. To keep pretending… "I don't want to know who you are," she whispered brokenly. Because then I can pretend you're not Griffin .

His hand stopped.

"I don't want you to know who I am," he continued. "But I must tell you."

"No." She shook her head hard. "No, you mustn't. In fact, you're not allowed to. Club rules."

"I cannot in good conscience?—"

"If you tell, you'll have to leave the club. Is that what you want?" Instead of saying more, she quickly removed her gown. Then, equally quickly, she pulled the chemise over her head and tossed it atop the small table. She stood there in only her stockings. She was naked. That had to shut him up.

He sucked in his breath. "Oh, that's not fair."

She stepped toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck, breathing in his maddening scent. "No more talking. Just touch me."

Without another word, his mouth moved inexorably down to meet hers.

For Griffin, it was as if his body was not his own. He needed to put an end to this. He needed to stop it. Immediately. But he couldn't seem to keep his hands off her. If only she hadn't taken off that damn gown and then that even more damned shift. She was nude, for the love of God. Naked save for her stockings. Was there a man alive who could resist that? The woman of his dreams standing in front of him without a stitch of clothing, begging him to make love to her?

God damn it. He must have done something truly awful in his life to deserve this torture.

But one kiss wouldn't hurt. Would it?

The moment their lips met, Griffin knew he was lost. Her arms locked around his neck and she clung to him, making tiny whimpering noises in the back of her throat, which made his cock instantly hard. Just one kiss would not be enough.

And what a kiss; it was explosive. His tongue tangled with hers. His hands moved down to cup her backside and suddenly he found himself picking her up and laying her on the bed. He hovered over her, his arms braced against the mattress on either side of her shoulders. She was busily unbuttoning his waistcoat. Mindlessly, he allowed her to. She didn't want to know his name. She'd made that clear enough. But she did want to touch him. Perhaps he could allow her to do that too. Before it went too far. Just for a moment…or two.

His waistcoat and shirt were soon gone and then her frantic hands were working at the buttons at the fall of his breeches. He grabbed her hands then, first one and then the other. Grabbed them and pinned them to the mattress above her head using only one of his hands .

"Let me touch you," she breathed.

He moved his mouth to her neck and devoured her sweet skin. "I can't. We can't?—"

"You promised that we would. Oh, God!"

His other hand had dropped below her waist and his finger had found her sweet spot, found it and then moved even lower to slip inside.

He closed his eyes. "You're so wet. So wet and so hot."

"I want you," she breathed against his cheek. "Please."

"I can't." He gently kissed her temple. "Believe me when I say I want to, but I can't ."

His finger moved inside her then and Meredith forgot the question, forgot all words, as stars exploded behind her eyelids. Her hips moved with his hand, helpless against anything other than trying to find that sweet relief. His fingers were in charge now. Not thought. Not logic. Not anything but the maddening feeling of bliss building between her legs. She wanted her release, and she wanted him to give it to her.

He began kissing down her body, lingering at her breasts, pulling her nipples into his hot mouth, first one and then the next. She sobbed in the back of her throat as he gently tugged the swollen points with this teeth. Then his head moved lower, down, down between her legs. His soft hair brushed against her thighs, and then the smooth slide of his mask near her most intimate spot. And when his tongue flicked out to lick her tight nub, she cried out and filtered her fingers through his hair.

Oh, God. What is he doing? And please don't ever let him stop .

She struggled against his hand that still kept both hers captured above her head. She wanted to reach for him, to touch him between the legs, but he wouldn't let go of her wrists.

"Please, let me feel you," she begged.

He shook his head between her legs, saying no, tantalizing her more as his tongue kept up its gentle assault in the spot where she most needed it. He lapped at her, while her knees closed tightly against his shoulders and her body trembled. And when the last licks sent her hurtling over the edge to oblivion, she called out.

A name.

One man's name flew from her lips as waves of pleasure cascaded over her body.

Meredith laid there silently for several seconds as the pleasure receded from her body. When her limbs finally stopped shaking, she realized what she'd done…and whose name had been on her lips when she found her pleasure. And she realized that it could ruin everything. She had to fix it. Quickly.

"Oh, my God. I didn't. I mean?—"

He didn't say anything, just stood and quickly pulled on his shirt. He didn't even bother to shrug on his waistcoat. Instead, he grabbed the rest of his clothing and lunged for the door.

He remained silent as the door swung closed behind him.