21. Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

T homas knocked on Izzie’s door as he balanced a tray of food on his right hand.

Turning his right ear to the door, he heard her footsteps shuffle across the room, then back again. The door shifted as something was wedged under its bottom crack.

The door opened a sliver and a slice of Izzie’s face appeared, her left eye a distance from the thin opening.

Overly cautious of her.

Seeing him, she muttered, “Just a moment.” She disappeared for a second, the door shifting as she pulled free whatever was under the bottom edge of the door, and she stepped back, opening it for him.

Barefoot, she still wore the dark blue gown from earlier, though she’d let her hair down from all the pins that had lifted it into an elegant upsweep. Half of her dark hair curled forward over her left shoulder, a soft wave in it and mussed, like she had been sleeping. But why would she still be in her gown if she had been sleeping?

He glanced down, noting the boot she clutched in her hands. He pointed to it. “You had that wedged under the door?”

Pink tinged her cheeks, and she dropped the boot to the floor, shoving it toward the wall with her toes. “I did. I know it wouldn’t stop someone from coming in, but it would slow them enough that I could get my bearings about me.”

Canny. Though he doubted she could do much against a brute busting into her room.

“It is prudent of you.” He lifted the platter balanced on his hand. “I brought you food. No meat.”

She looked to the silver cloche atop the platter. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“I did, actually, because at the dinner before the dancing you did not even take one bite of the potatoes or the asparagus or the soup or the delicious rosemary bread that was set before you.”

“You were watching me?”

Watching? Probably skirting into obsessing if he were to actually judge his own actions.

His shoulders lifted as he moved into the room. “I merely noted you did not eat.”

“I was nervous.” Her hand flickered in the air as she closed the door behind him. “And I was also busy listening to Lord Vesler.”

A flash of annoyance cut across his vision and he looked away from her to the fire crackling in the fireplace. “I saw that the man held your rapt attention.”

“He was telling me the most wonderful stories of his visits to Italy and the West Indies. About the people he’s met and the wares he’s found on his travels.”

“Was he?” The two words sounded sarcastic even to his own ears. Which they were. But they sounded petty and he knew it.

“Yes.” Her gaze searched the corners of his face for a long breath and then she blinked hard at whatever she found. “Was I not supposed to be speaking with him? He was one of the gentlemen that you insisted I choose amongst, was he not? I did not have a guide as to who I could speak to this eve. If you had told me what your plans for me at the event were, perhaps I could have performed more to your liking. I could have been more engaging to Lord Vesler.”

Thomas’s jaw clenched. Lord Vesler was indeed one of the men that he wanted Izzie to meet tonight. That hadn’t stopped him from sitting through that whole damn dinner, fantasizing the entire time about driving his oyster fork through the man’s throat. Lord Vesler had made Izzie laugh again and again—every few minutes if he was keeping track—and he’d despised every second of it. Wanted every one of those smiles she flashed Lord Vesler to be his alone. Directed at him and only him.

Ballocks.

He had to get a tighter rein on himself.

His body rigid, he nodded to Izzie, then moved past her and set the platter down on the square table set before the fireplace in her room. “Eat.”

She walked over to the table, looking down at the platter but not moving to lift the cloche. “I will. Maybe once Sylvie arrives here from the party.”

“No offense to Miss Derrington, but I doubt she will make an appearance back here tonight.”

Her look narrowed at him. “What are you implying?”

He shrugged. “That she will be enjoying herself to the fullest this night. She fit in amongst that crush tonight, so if she shows by morning light, I will be surprised. The festivities with this crowd rarely end any earlier.”

Izzie nodded, a frown jutting up the bottom of her full lower lip.

“What is it?”

She looked up at him, then glanced away, shaking her head. “Nothing.”

“It is something, and you may as well tell me now and save us both time.” His arms folded over his chest as his head angled to the side, trying to figure her. “For you can be assured I will get it out of you.”

Her brows lifted. “Will you?” A challenge, plain and simple in her tempest blue eyes.

The right side of his mouth quirked upward. “I do get what I want.”

The sweetest smile came to her lips. “And that is the brunt of your arrogance.”

She wasn’t wrong. He softened his stance as he looked her over. Her eyes tired, the droop of her shoulders looked…beaten. His voice notched into concern. “What is amiss?”

Her thumb flicked over her shoulder. “It is just…the ties of the dress. I need Sylvie. I cannot loosen them—cannot even start loosening them for where they start. I thought to tear the side seam to get out of it, but the dress is so fine, I didn’t want to ruin it.” She turned her back to him, her right arm twisting around to try to reach a spot in the middle of her back. “You can see where there are knots over knots—I pulled the wrong lace and made a mess of it.”

Thomas stifled a groan. The knots of the ties were all mangled, not in the neat little lines he watched man after man weave his fingers along during the dancing.

She needed help, but putting his hands anywhere near her was mistake. A wildly idiotic one.

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Mayhap you could…”

What was worse—stomping out of the room without a word or allowing himself to touch her?

He wasn’t sure which was the right answer.

At his lack of an immediate response, she spun around, pink flooding her cheeks, her mouth setting into a tight line. “Or not. I imagine it is beneath you and you have already been kind enough to bring the food. I don’t want to take any more of your time.”

She waved her hand toward the door, dismissing him.

Dismissing him.

That alone was challenge in itself.

With a growl, he stalked behind her, pushing her dark chestnut hair out of the way and digging his fingers into the weave of the ties—six different thin ribbons intertwined if he was seeing the elaborate pattern of them correctly. Pure evil sorcery, if he’d ever seen it. “Why do you insist on challenging me like this?”

“Challenging you?” She turned her head toward him, but with his hands solidly on her back trying to decipher the ribbons, she couldn’t twist far enough to look directly at him. “I was only looking for help with my dress. That does not seem a challenge.”

His fingers jerked against the first knot—hard—and it pulled her body into his, her backside ramming into his thighs. Thank the devil it wasn’t higher, or her flesh would have been greeted with the hard rod of his cock that had quickly decided now was the perfect time to escape celibacy.

Frustrated that he’d even let himself fall into this position, he composed his fingers, moving them slower, picking at the knot she’d pulled so tight it had locked down the rest of the silk ties.

His words came just as slowly, seething out, directly on the teetering edge of control, for every time his knuckles swiped along her back he could feel her flesh tighten under the touch. “It is a challenge in that I am trying damn hard to be exactly what I am—exactly what the title and the world thinks of me.”

She shook her head, giving an exasperated sigh. “That doesn’t make any sense—what exactly does the world think you are?”

“A gentleman.” He yanked on the ribbon, setting the top knot free. “One with honor.” He dug his fingers beneath the weave of laces and yanked them again, her body jerking with the motion. “With propriety on his side.”

She gasped with a quick intake of breath, and the swell of her chest pulled the fabric forward, trapping his fingers between her spine and the tight laces. Her chin tilted up, her dark hair falling against his wrist as she stared at the ceiling, her words crawling out. “Just what are those things keeping you from doing?”

Silent for a long minute, he loosened the laces until he could rip free the last weave of the ties, and the top of her gown unfurled like a blooming flower, slipping down her shoulders.

Bare shoulders directly in front of him, the curve of them, the dip of her skin along the line of her clavicle enticing like nothing he’d ever seen. A line he desperately wanted to drag his tongue along, tasting her.

Too damn much.

He leaned down, his voice a growl in her ear. “Those are the only things keeping me from turning into a rabid animal that rips off your clothes and uses your body like the filthy demon I am.”

She froze.

Exactly as she should. Exactly as his words intended. Freeze the little hare. Freeze her into not moving, not baiting the wolf about to devour her.

Undo her ties—what in the hell was she thinking? She had to recognize her own appeal, didn’t she? Especially after an evening where too many men were looking at her like she was the freshest, most delectable snack they’d seen in ages.

Not that she’d returned any of those looks from the men with anything but innocent curiosity—he’d watched her all night playing the part of a young, innocent gentlewoman, which she did admirably. Even though she’d been wondering the entire evening why she’d been forced to be at the party. She’d come to the event to help him, so that was the only thing she’d been concerned about.

While he’d truly brought her to the party to find a husband.

He should have told her from the start. Told her before they arrived at Mr. Grave’s house that there were several possible suitors there for her. That he had approved all of them. Maybe then she would have engaged more with the men on her dance card—tried to sort out what type of a man she would like as a husband.

For he certainly didn’t want to pick one for her—he didn’t know that he was capable of doing so. Every man that he’d watched talk to Izzie tonight, he’d wanted to slam into a wall. And if she’d actually showed interest in any of the men? He would have thrown that lucky man out a window.

A monster. Nothing but a fucking monster with a thousand possessive thoughts spinning about rampant in his head, jealous of the very thing he could not have.

Could not afford to have.

Izzie’s right hand slid up to hold the front of her dress over her breasts, and she turned slowly toward him, her eyes wide at the words he’d just growled into her ear. His fingers fell away from the silk ties at her back only because she shifted.

The tip of her tongue flicked out, wetting her lower lip. The tiny motion sending an excruciating pang up along his already granite-hard cock.

The dark blue in her eyes stormed as she met his stare, a wild sea ready to take him down into the abyss, her words in a breathless whisper. “What if I want to be that same rabid animal, doing everything I know I shouldn’t?”

The devil take him.

His nostrils flared, his voice rumbling from deep in his throat, the demon inside of him fighting to be set free. “Don’t bloody well tempt me, Izzie.”

Her stare didn’t drop from his. “Is it a temptation or is it an inevitability?”

He descended on her like the rabid animal he was. His lips crashing into her, his tongue plunging into her depths, gorging himself on her scent, on her juices.

She was everything his body ached for, the taste of her a nectar that his taste buds had always craved but had never quenched.

Her body arched backward against his arm that had clamped around her lower back, guttural moans ripping from her chest with his onslaught.

Moving her hands up against his chest, she unbuttoned his waistcoat and then dug under the lapels of his coat to shove both his coat and waistcoat up and off his shoulders, tugging them down his arms.

Her hands no longer holding up her dress in front of her, the silk fabric slipped down between him.

He pulled away, looking down. Damn perfect breasts.

Breasts that had haunted him since he’d dunked her in that bath more than a month ago. But then—then he had tried to avert his eyes.

Not this time.

This time, he stared down at her body, soaking her in. The delicate indent down along the center of her chest led into the smooth swell of her breasts and making the animal in him grow more ravenous.

His head dropped, his tongue dipping out to trace that center line down her body, and he veered to the left, his mouth clamping onto her right breast. Teeth. Tongue. Swirling, nipping. Each movement drawing guttural mewls from her, her skin vibrating under his lips. The sound so raw and unapologetic, it sent hot surges up and down his cock.

So fucking genuine in her pleasure, she couldn’t suppress her raw reactions from what he was doing to her body.

Her hands sank into his hair, her fingernails clawing into his scalp. She didn’t want him to stop, but he had far more exploring to do.

Curves. Her glorious curves. His hands slid down along her sides, inward at her waist, outward along her hips as he pushed down the fabric of her dress until gravity took over and it pooled at her feet.

His breath stilled in his chest as he straightened, staring at her naked body. A raw, striking beauty, her mouth open, breaths coming so rapidly her chest was in constant flux. Her dark blue eyes a tempest of lust and wonderment. A fucking siren, determined to take him to the depths of the sea.

Her naked body vulnerable, begging to be touched. He wasn’t about to disappoint. His hands clamped onto her waist and he lifted her, moving her backward until the edge of her ass was positioned on the side of the table.

All he wanted were more of her moans, more of her gasping breaths. He wanted her screams. He wanted her body vibrating under his hands, writhing under his tongue. Wanted that pleasure that he could give her to find a home so deep in her, she would be branded by him for life.

His lips trailed down her skin, going from one breast to the other, and then he sank onto his knees in front of her, not pausing to give her a moment to think, to reconsider.

He glanced up at her, could see the curiosity in her eyes as his right hand slid down the outside of her left thigh and he slipped his fingers behind it, lifting her leg and draping it over his shoulder.

A gasp. “Thom?—”

His name cut from her lips the moment he sank his tongue along her slit. Dragging it down, tasting the juices that her body had already created for him.

For him.

He wanted more. He wanted it all.

Along her slit, he found her nub, that sensitive mound of flesh that he circled, then pulled between his lips, clamping pressure onto it.

A scream. Breathy and unhindered and full of surrender.

He flicked his tongue across it, drawing another carnal mewl, so fucking glorious to his ear that he only wanted more of them—demanded more of them from her body. Doubled the speed he worked her folds, made her body curl over him, her nails raking across his head as her body writhed, uncontrolled. More. His tongue, his fingers on her, he demanded more. Sliding from punishing to tender, and back again. She took it all in, everything he was doing to her with complete trust and unabashed response.

So authentic, it made his head go light with the power he held over her with every stroke he made along her folds.

Tracing his fingers along her slit, he reached her entrance and sank his forefinger into her. Her body jerked against the intrusion, a gasp hitting her lips. He glanced up as he stroked in and out of her, her inner walls so damn tight around just the one digit.

Her head fell back, her eyes closed with her mouth parted, the pleasure of it racking through her so furious, he could see she was right on the edge.

Pumping harder, he dove forward, his tongue swiping along her nub, working it rhythmically, then faster, harder, as he drove a second finger into her, stretching her. In and out.

She shattered. The scream tearing out of her coming from some ethereal place that sent shivers along his scalp.

He looked up in time to see it all play out on her face. The release as she froze. The wonder. The gasps, again and again as wave after wave hit her. His fingers, his thumb on her nub taking over the duty of milking every last drop of pleasure out of her.

Fucking hell.

He’d never seen anything so glorious. A religion all of itself, watching her come under his hand. It was what he wanted—needed to hear. Her coming on his fingers, on his tongue—coming from how he owned her pleasure, her body.

Her eyes opened, dazed and drunk with carnal satisfaction, and she reached down, her fingers clamping around the back of his head and pulling him up. Her mouth meeting his.

He locked onto her, her tongue voracious against his, lapping up her own taste. Not ashamed at all of what he’d just done, what he’d pulled from her. Only ravenous for more of it from him.

He pressed into her, his shaft throbbing with every heartbeat from the intense pressure inside of it. Her fingers dug down between them, flipping buttons on his trousers until the flap of fabric fell, and his engorged cock spilled out into her hands.

Greedy hands that ran the length of it, pressure on every cord, every nerve lining his cock.

A pleasure so intense, so foreign for how long it had been since a woman had held him—yet right in every way. Exactly as he was meant to exist.

And in the center of that ecstasy, clarity hit him.

He couldn’t ruin her.

He jerked his cock out of her hands.

“No—no.” He backed away from her with heaving breaths, buttoning up his fall front.

His hand fumbled as he reached for the door handle, grasping onto the heavy metal, and he yanked the door open.

He paused, looking her up and down as she leaned naked against the table, gripping the edge, her face still flush with pleasure and her chest lifting in rapid breaths. Confusion thick in her eyes.

“Pick one of those men from the party. Pick one.” His voice harsh, not in his control. But he couldn’t correct it.

He stepped out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

He stood in the hallway for one second. Two. Three.

Out. Away.

He needed away from her.

He needed a drink. Probably five.

His feet turned, stomping down the hallway before she had a chance to get any clothing on and come after him.

He needed the closest tavern he could find.