Chapter 10

Kit wasn’tcertain how they made it to Thorne’s chambers, or if they’d fooled anyone.

Her entire body was humming in the aftermath of that orgasm in the carriage. It had been truly remarkable, while at the same time not nearly enough. The distance, the layers of cloth, only made her ache the more.

She wanted more. She wanted all of Thorne, and now that he knew the truth, there was no reason she couldn’t have it. Right?

Titsworth had said something to them, and Kit thought Thorne might have answered…but she hadn’t heard the words. She’d been too focused on controlling her breathless laughter, and the way her pulse was pounding against the inside of her temples.

Even Thorne, when he twined his fingers through hers and darted up the stairs, glanced down at her with humor in those lovely blue eyes.

He wants this, she told herself.

It had to be the truth. The things he’d whispered to her in the carriage…

And then they were in his chamber, and he was shutting the door behind them, and using his hold on her hand to swing her around and catch in his arms. His lips captured hers and yes, he wanted this. She wanted this.

Whimpering, Kit pulled him closer, grinding her pelvis against his hardness, trying to recapture the ecstasy of moments ago.

Sweat dampened the hair at his temples, making his skin salty. She kissed her way along Thorne’s jaw, dragging her tongue through his stubble, making him shudder with need. The realization she was this powerful sent a spike of excitement through her, made her want to claim him.

He was hers. Now she just had to show him.

“The bed?” he gasped.

And, feeling bold, feeling in control, Kit pretended to think about it. “The bathtub, I think.”

Thorne hadn’t expected that, judging from the way he blinked down at her, his brows drawing into an adorable little frown.

She pressed a kiss to his chin. “Dancing is hard work, Thorne.” She flexed her hips forward, cradling his erection with her words. “I am your valet. I should scrub your back.”

“Christ, Kit.” His gaze darted between her eyes, looking uncertain. “Ye dinnae have to…I just was teasing ye all those times…” He closed his mouth and swallowed. Then, hesitantly: “Ye are of age?”

Her grin grew. Yes, it was going to be fun to remind him of her words. “I told you I was twenty-three,” she said in a sing-song sort of tone, smirking. “And yes, before you ask again, I’ve done this before.”

“Slept with a man?” Thorne was teasing now, repeating her words from the dance hall. Dio Benedetto, but she loved the way he could slide so easily back to humor. Kit was certain it was why her heart always felt so light around this man.

“Aye,” she drawled, mimicking his burr as she walked her fingers up his chest. “My mother might’ve insisted I learn how to interact with my father’s world, but she never forbade me from experiencing hers.”

When she brushed her fingers across his chin, he growled, “Clearly,” and tightened his hold on her. “Ye’re no’ a virgin?”

“Does that bother you?” Kit cocked her head to one side, uncertainty now flooding where certainty had been. “I grew up surrounded by beautiful people who knew how to give and receive pleasure.”

His hands were already plucking at her jacket, urging her to shed it. “Hardly. I cannae claim it bothers me that ye’re experienced, if it means we both ken what we like.”

Smiling wryly, she allowed him to pull the coat from her arms. “And it would be hypocritical of you, besides.” All of London knew of Thorne’s exploits.

Humor twinkled in his eyes when he reached for her waistcoat. “Exactly. It’s more fun if yer partner kens what she’s doing.”

“That’s why you avoided my advances—Thorne! You’re really quite good at those little fiddly buttons!” she accused as he pulled her waistcoat off her shoulders. “Remind me, why do you need a valet again?”

“Because I’m lazy.” He shot her a grin. “And I like company.” He was already working on her shirt buttons. “And I needed…”

“A friend.” She finished his sentence in a gasp, already arching into his touch.

“I think Titsworth suspected us. These buttons were mismatched when ye came in—”

“To hell with Titsworth, Thorne!” She threw her arms around his neck, pulling his lips down to hers. “Bathtub! Now!”

He was chuckling as he allowed her to lead him to the bathing chamber.

The following moments were deliciously confusing; Kit drew the bath while pulling off her suspenders, which meant her trousers sagged, and before Thorne could come to her aid, she’d splashed water over herself in her efforts to save them.

They teased one another, with touches and words and looks, as Thorne finished undressing, every moment and movement heightening her anticipation. And when she finally shucked her trousers, the way his hungry gaze swept her body left her blood pumping hotly.

“Sit down,” she commanded, pointing at the single chair. He didn’t hesitate, but followed her command without looking away.

He was in his shirtsleeves, and she sank to the tile floor and reached for his shoes, carefully untying them so the leather wouldn’t be ruined by the damp.

“Kit?” His voice sounded strangled, and she hid her smile as she focused on unhooking his stockings.

“Your Grace, I know you. You’re simply too enthusiastic to worry about your clothing when you get a woman back to your chambers.”

“A— Listen, lad, ye’ve never seen me with—”

She switched her attention to his other foot, interrupting him with “Lad?”

“Och, nay, ye’re all woman, and I’m enjoying the show.”

Chuckling, she tucked his shoes out of the way and pulled him to his feet. He was the one to unbutton his trousers and shuck his smalls, and then he was naked.

Dio Benedetto, what a beautiful man!

When Thorne went to reach for her, Kit stopped him with a hand flat on his chest, stepping back so she could sweep her gaze over his body. He had a dancer’s body—tall and lithe and golden. His stomach was chiseled, the muscles of his arms and shoulders corded.

But there were scars too.

Humming, she carefully swept her fingertips across a vicious slash that might’ve been aimed for his kidney, and a small pucker on one shoulder which could’ve been a bullet hole. She’d seen them daily, while scrubbing his back, but hadn’t thought of what they’d meant.

He’d been in danger, and the thought made her want to hurt someone.

Thorne stood there, fists curled at his side, and she thought he was being passive. But when she raised her eyes, it was to see him hungrily devouring her, his gaze caressing her nude body.

She shivered, a movement which had nothing to do with the air temperature.

“In the bath, Thorne,” she ordered, her voice low. “I have to scrub your back.”

“Mercy, love,” he pleaded, reaching for her hand. “Ye’re no’ going to give me time to explore this new treasure?” His touch skimmed up her arms, over her back, down her arse, causing her to shudder. “Ye’ve seen me bare dozens of times, and I hadnae even begun to imagine what delight awaited me under those trousers of yers!”

Because he’d pulled her hips forward with that comment, even as he dropped a kiss to her shoulder, she had to giggle. Taking pity on the man—and knowing she was really doing herself a favor—Kit lifted her arms around his neck and let him…explore.

Love.

He’d said that in the carriage.

I love ye, Kit, nae matter what.

But…surely that was the sort of thing he said to all his women?

You were dressed as a lad at the time, though.

Well, yes, and he’d been feeling up her tits. What did it matter?

He was talking to you, not anyone else.

Kit skittered away from the thought, burying it deep in the detritus of her mind. Why concern herself with Thorne’s past experiences or what lies he believed he had to tell to get her into bed, when she could be focused on how he made her feel?

And good Christ, but the man could make her feel.

He stroked, he caressed, he kissed. And through it all, gentle words of praise and promises. Promises of pleasure, and of a future. Promises he couldn’t fulfil—not as Duke and valet—but promises something deep inside Kit cherished anyway.

He was the one to lead her to the tub, to hold her hand as she stepped inside it. He stepped in behind her and pulled her into his chest, he reached for the soap and sponge, he lathered her.

Somewhere, a part of Kit was frowning. She was supposed to be in command here, bathing Thorne. But the rest of her was sighing in contentment, adoring the way his touch sent cold shivers across her skin to collide with the heat from the water.

“Lay back, love,” he cajoled, pulling her back against his chest. “Let me wash yer hair.”

Kit wanted to protest, to say she could wash him…but damn this felt good. The groan which escaped her lips when his fingers dug into her scalp was just… Yes. She sighed.

“Good Lord, ye caked this shite in here, did ye no’? Is this pork fat? Beef drippings? Yer stealing from my kitchen now?”

Kit’s eyelids were half-closed so she could better focus on the sensations tripping through her body. “You know the grease your coachmen use to keep your carriage axles turning?”

Thorne froze in the process of scrubbing her hair. “Ye’re kidding,” he demanded.

Her laughs triggered his own, and when he chuckled, she felt it through her body.

He made short work of rinsing out the pomade from her hair—the same goop he’d used a few times for fancy events, she knew. Once finished, Kit turned in the bathtub to reach over his shoulder to the tap, bringing in cleaner water.

It wasn’t until she was finished, and sat back, that she realized she was now straddling him, her hands braced on his shoulders. And he was grinning up at her like a schoolboy on Christmas morning.

“What?”

“Och, nothing much.” His hands skimmed up her sides until his thumbs rested just under her breast. “Just thinking this is the best view I’ve ever seen.”

She scoffed dismissively. The man was a rake; he’d had plenty of women in this position.

In the bathtub?

Well, perhaps that was a first.

A big part of Kit had to admit that she liked the thought of being memorable to Thorne. Perhaps they didn’t have a future together, but if he remembered her—even if it was only as the redhead I bonked in the bath—that would be nice.

So she smiled in return and made a show of sliding forward until his erect cock rested against her curls. In the now-clean water, she could see its angry red head when she glanced between her breasts.

“The view’s not bad,” she agreed impishly.

Instead of scolding her, Thorne slid his hands forward to cup her breasts, and Kit’s smile vanished in a desperate sort of moan as she leaned into his touch.

God in heaven, but the man knew how to love a pair of tits!

Or perhaps, after weeks of being bound up, hers were just incredibly sensitive? Either way, the mere memory of what he’d done with his tongue in the carriage, combined with the way he was rolling her nipples between his fingers, sent another rush of liquid heat to her core.

“Thorne,” she whimpered.

“Lass, I’m spread out beneath ye. Ye have me pinned. I’m yers to use how ye wish.”

There was a teasing, hopeful tone to his words that told Kit he was desperate for this as well.

So it was a simple matter to lean forward, bracing her weight with one hand while the other reached below the water to grasp his shaft. He sucked in a breath when she squeezed…

But when she sank back down atop his cock, taking him inside her slowly, they both sighed.

He was big, longer than the men she’d been with before, and it was a surreal feeling, to slide down his length inch by inch, accepting him into her body.

But when she was fully seated, it felt…perfect. Thorne had stilled beneath her, even his breathing shallow, his hands cupping her breasts as he watched her. Only his eyes moved, flicking over her visage as if asking is this alright? Are you happy?

And yes, she was.

Without speaking, she reached forward to place her palm on his cheek. The touch was gentle, soft, and he tilted his chin sideways to press into it without dropping her gaze.

“You’re beautiful,” Kit whispered, meaning it. “So perfect. You feel how perfectly we fit together? Thank you.”

His lips opened on a gasp, his beautiful eyes growing a little watery. She knew that had been the right thing to say.

“Thorne? I’m going to make love to you now.”

“Please, love.”

So Kit began to move. She rocked forward and back, slowly, sensually. It was an utter delight to feel his long cock sliding from her slowly, then to sit back so it thrust back inside her more quickly. Her core was wet from her earlier orgasm and the teasing Thorne had given her, the water in the tub buoying her, holding her up the same way he did.

Before long she was moving faster, more frantically. Thorne’s head was tipped against the porcelain, but he watched her with parted lips as if she was the most important thing in the world.

In this moment, she was.

As her pleasure built, Thorne began to thrust upward, helping her draw out these incredible feelings. She braced her hands on the sides of the tub, and locked her knees into place. This position wasn’t the most comfortable or the most practical, but there was no way she could stop now.

Not when she was so close.

“Are you…?” What had she been about to gasp? The way he touched her made her lose all thought. “Thorne, I need…”

“Aye, love.” His hands settled on her hips. “Let me lead?”

Just like the dance they’d shared in the darkness, hours ago. She gladly gave him control, and with a soft growl, he took over. The pace increased, each of his thrusts drawing a gasp from her lips.

Within moments she was close to her crisis, and she could tell he was as well, his face flushed, need in his gaze.

Kit reached down between their bodies and cupped her mound. His blue eyes flashed with hunger as they watched her touch herself, dragging her orgasm closer. It was the pressure which did it for her, the pressure against the top of her slit, while he was busy pounding against the inside.

As her pleasure threatened, she pulled her hand from the water, clamped her thighs tight around his sides, and leaned forward, reaching for him. She clasped his jaw with her palms, leaned down, and claimed his lips.

Her orgasm burst over her and she gasped into him. Groaning, he tightened his hold on her, dragging her closer, his tongue plundering her mouth the way his cock buried in her core. She felt her inner muscles spasming around him, gripping, stroking, loving, as his breathing grew ragged.

Just as her pleasure began to fade and her muscles loosened, Thorne bucked once and slid from her. She might’ve felt bereft, except he reached around her arse to grab his cock. He slid it along the cleft of her arse once, twice, and then with a groan, found his own release.

The hot, thick spend spread across her arse and lower back, and Kit was delighted to discover she could feel it even in the water.

We definitely need to try this in the bed next time.

When she finally shifted her hands to the porcelain so she could brace herself and pull her lips away from Thorne’s, she wasn’t completely surprised to find him looking up at her with something like wonder. As if his entire world had changed.

And for a long moment, Kit was satisfied to smile softly down at him, marveling at what they’d just shared.

Finally, with a happy little sigh, she reached for the soapy sponge. As she dragged it across Thorne’s chest and neck and temples, wiping away the sweat from earlier, he just…watched her. Only his chest and eyes moved, watching her.

As if he wasn’t quite certain what to make of her.

Finally, she pushed herself off him, and he roused himself enough to clean her, then help her step from the tub. Chuckling at her own awkwardness, Kit grabbed a towel to wrap around herself and tuck under her arm, before flicking one out at the ready for Thorne.

When he stepped from the water, she hurried to dry him.

“What are ye doing?” his voice sounded rusty.

“Drying you, Your Grace,” Kit quipped impishly, bent over to pat at his thighs which brought her eye-to-cock. She wondered what would happen if she flicked her tongue over it. Was it too soon? “I am your valet, after all.”

With a growl he tugged her upright, arms going around her to trap her against him. There was something stormy in those eyes. Something uncertain.

“Thorne?”

“Ye really want to be my valet? Still?”

She was standing nearly naked in the man’s arms, and the question…veered a little too close to emotions she didn’t want to explore. So Kit shrugged.

“If I’m not your valet, who am I?” Without giving him time to answer—not certain she’d like the answer, Kit hurried to say, “I’m just someone sharing your bed. Living in your home, without a job?”

His eyes flicked between hers. “Ye’d have a verra important job. No one else can do it. Keeping me sane.”

Keeping him satiated, more like.

“I do that now, as your valet.” Sighing, she placed her hands against his bare chest. “Thorne, this was fun, but I don’t see a need to change who we are. You’re a duke, I’m your valet. This? This was fun.”

“But…ye dinnae want to do it again?”

“What? Yes of course I want to do it again.” It wasn’t until relief flooded his expression that she realized how vulnerable that question had been, and her tone softened. “I can be your valet and your…your…”

Mistress.

Whore.

His lips twitched, as if he could hear her confusion. “Fook buddy?”

Kit snorted at the description. “I’m just saying, we can continue as before, duke and valet. But here in your chambers, we can be…Thorne and Kit.”

“Thorne and Kit,” he repeated at a whisper, one hand moving to her upper arm, his touch warm. “Aye, I’d like that. To the rest of the world, though, will ye be a lad?”

She hadn’t thought of that. And judging from the things Thorne had said to her when he still thought her a male, she didn’t think he was asking because he was concerned for his reputation. So she hummed uncertainly.

“I do like the trousers…and the pockets…”

Thorne’s lips twitched again as his caress moved up past her shoulders to finger the auburn curls drying around her ears. “Do me a favor, at least?” His gaze was soft, almost reverent, as he brushed his fingers through her hair. “Dinnae try to tame this bounty again? With yer hair free around yer shoulders, ye…”

Look like a whore.

Look like a woman.

Look like someone I’ve just fooked.

He swallowed and met her eyes. “Ye are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Oh.

Slowly, softly, his lips found hers.

This kiss felt like the one in the tub, only full of…promise, perhaps? Hope, definitely. Thorne was telling her what she meant to him.

And Kit wasn’t certain if she was ready for it.

When the kiss ended, she pressed her cheek against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Thank ye,” he whispered to the crown of her head. “Thank ye for trusting me, Kit.”

Her eyes squeezed shut.

Dio Benedetto, no matter how beautiful he was, she couldn’t afford to fall in love with Thorne.