“Damn right.”
“Don’t have me make you do something you don’t want to do,” she pettishly asserted.
“Believe me,
“Don’t blame me.”
“I don’t know who else to blame,” he growled. Then quicksilver, he made a course correction. “Forgive me. You’re quite blameless in all but your prodigious allure. I’m like a moth to the flame,” he added with a smile. “So just bear with me.” He shoved open her bedroom door with his foot.
She sighed. “We’re both operating outside the pale.”
“But it’s an enchanting land nonetheless.”
“Enchanting beyond belief.”
He gazed at her for a moment as he stood at the side of her bed, both avarice and wonder in his eyes. “Enchanting in a thousand ways,” he softly agreed. Setting her down a moment later, he dropped into a sprawl beside her, his head resting on his hand. “I must take care not to hurt you. Or hurt you anymore.” Leaning over, he gently kissed her cheek. “For which I’m vastly sorry.” As if recalling something, he pulled the jar from his suit coat pocket. “Although, there’s this if you wish.”
“I don’t need it. I feel extremely well.” She suddenly frowned. “Although, you’ve no doubt dealt with this problem before.”
He hesitated for a fraction of a second, debating how best to answer. The women he played with weren’t novices. “Actually, no,” he said. “You’re the first”-he smiled-“in a variety of ways. All of them good by the way. I expect your fair skin might be the problem,” he politely added. “As for me, I’m dark as the ace of spades; my skin is impervious to wear and tear.”
“Him, too.” Reaching over, she touched the bulge evident beneath the linen of his trousers.
He grinned. “The Black Corsair if you like.” He ran a fingertip over the skirt fabric covering her mons. “And you have the sweetest little pussy. We’ll have to see if they can play together later.”
“How much later? ”
He laughed. “Greedy puss.”
“I wish I could say no.”
There-the proper Mrs. St. Vincent again. But rather than speak his mind, he politely said, “I’m glad you can’t.”
“Are you?” She shouldn’t have asked; it was gauche to ask a man about his feelings. Particularly a man like Fitz who was known far and wide for his disdain of the tender emotions.
“Yes, very much,” he softly said. “Because I can’t say no either.” He looked away for a second before meeting her gaze again. “I lectured myself against coming to see you, and yet here I am”-he grinned-“and bloody glad to be here.” His voice dropped low. “I was serious about dinner, too. Come dine with me afterward. My wealth and title insulate me from censure and by extension, you as well. You needn’t worry.”
She shook her head. “I’m not sure.”
“About dinner or the dispensations allowed a duke? ”
She grimaced. “About everything.”
“At the risk of offending your virtuous sensibilities-” He paused abruptly as she gave him a skeptical look. “I’m speaking in general terms; you must admit you’re of a conventional bent, other than your flame-hot passions,” he added with a smile. “But back to my point. Life is to be lived, darling. Maybe not as prodigally as I do, but nevertheless lived. How sad it would be to grow old without ever knowing-”
“This bewitchment? ”
He nodded, neither willing nor able to define his feelings. He’d avoided sincere emotion too long. Or perhaps having been raised as he was, he had never learned to recognize it. “Are we done talking? ” he asked, malelike in his avoidance.
She smiled. “If you like.”
He grinned. “You know what I’d like.”
“The same thing as I. We are obsessed, or at least I am.”
“We both are. I was thinking of taking you home with me and keeping you locked away.”
“And I’d go if life allowed. But unfortunately, I have a store to run and a living to make.”
“I could take care of that for you.”
For a brief moment, silence fell.
Fitz cringed. He shouldn’t have even thought it, let alone said it.
Rosalind knew better than to take seriously what was expressed in the heat of passion, although the notion was enchanting. “Thank you, but I prefer my life as it is”-she smiled-“especially when you come calling.”
“Speaking of calling-only if you’re sure you’re well enough-why don’t we put some of this salve on my cock and he’ll come call on your pussy? ”
“It sounds like a lovely experiment. Smell it, too. It’s lavender scented.”
He grinned. “Then I’ll be bringing flowers when I call.”
“At the risk of adding to your conceit, you needn’t bring anything but yourself and I’m content.”
He held out the small jar. “Should I do it or you? ”
“Me, me,” she playfully said, fluttering her fingers.
“God Almighty,” Fitz whispered, “you’re the most endearing little bookstore owner I know.”
“And you’re God’s gift to women,” she replied with a smile. “But handsome men and carnal pleasures aside, Fitz, darling, just for the record, I have no intention of selling my store. I want to be perfectly plain about that. Sex is just sex.”
“Then, just for the record, I, too, intend to keep pressing my suit.” He flickered his brows and grinned. “I’m hoping you’ll finally see the light.”
“I don’t want to talk,” she whispered, the subject too contentious. It was better to concentrate on sex and nothing more.
“I never do when I’m with you.” He smiled and brushed a fingertip over the soft curves of her mouth, as practical as she about what brought them together. “Now kiss me and make me happy.”
It turned out to be a kiss that wasn’t about sex.
It was a happy-to-be-together kiss.
There was a certain innocence in their kiss as well, as if they both hadn’t had others in their life before. As if the world was fresh and new.
“You can’t keep smiling like that when I’m kissing you,” Fitz teased. “I’m losing my concentration.”
“You should talk,” she said, trying not to smile and failing. “I don’t know whether to kiss you back or ask you what the joke is.”
“No joke, darling. I just never knew sex could be so much fun.”
“You’re just pleased because you’re getting your way.”
He always did. But he also knew that having everything didn’t bring happiness. “You decide then.”
“About what? ”
“About anything? ”
“Don’t be so generous. I might take you up on your offer.”
“Please do.” Realizing that he was actually willing to give her anything, he quickly stepped back from the brink of such unreserved sentiment and said with a grin, “Would you like the shirt off my back? ”
“You read my mind,” she playfully replied, as intent as he on not straying into the realm of earnestness. “The sooner the better.”
Even without his current incentive, he could shed his clothes quickly, and in record time he was undressed and helping Rosalind do the same. He was seated on the side of the bed, she was standing between his legs nearly nude now save for her drawers and silk stockings.
“I adore when you wait on me,” she purred, her hand on his broad muscled shoulder, her gaze on his bent head as he slid her drawers down her legs. “It’s very provocative. It makes me hot, hot, hot.”
He glanced up, his grey eyes amused. “Everything makes you hot, sweetheart.” Then, grasping her waist, he lifted her off the floor, kicked her drawers aside, and set her down again.
“Everything about
