Kissed at Midnight (12 page)

She longed for it, ached for
it, but she’d never let a man touch her there before, not even in her most
desperate moments when it would have been so easy to sell herself for a job or
some money.

His mouth lowered and
claimed hers. The press of his swollen lips to hers stole her breath and made
her head swim. Not only was she feeling the hard press of his lips but also his
body—every hard, male inch of him. It shocked her, excited her, summoned up
such overwhelming emotions that she hardly knew what to do with them.

Curiosity, as it was so
often want to do with her, burned through her. What did he look like there?
Feel like? Taste...like? She’d heard of the practice of loving a man with her
mouth. Living in the rough area of Manchester, she could hardly avoid such
talk, but never had it sounded appealing.

Crushed. She was simply
crushed by that wall of muscle. And savouring every moment of his break in
restraint. Ivy opened her mouth to him and tasted the slight tang of blood. The
fleeting thought she should not have insisted he kiss her was quickly dispersed
by the way his tongue tangled with hers. She brought a hand up to grip the back
of his neck, feeling the soft curl of his hair, and pinned him to her.

Of its own accord, her body
undulated into him, as though lifted by invisible strings. She might have demanded
this but he was the puppet master and she his puppet. Her body was his to do with
it as he would. Perhaps it had been this way since she’d first set eyes on him.
Almost certainly it had been like this since he’d kissed her. August dominated
her thoughts far too often.

Fingers gripped her bare hip
under her chemise and she sucked in a sharp breath at the shock of it. Coarse,
hot skin pressing into hers. Branding her in the most delicious yet wicked way.

Ivy became aware of him
fumbling with his trousers between them. She knew he was because his arousal no
longer pressed into her, and she felt the brush of his knuckles near his
stomach. She couldn’t help but stiffen. She’d wanted a kiss, yes, a touch, certainly.
But more? As usual, she hadn’t thought past the first step. Oh dear.

August worked his lips down
her neck and grabbed her hand. In the next instant, her palm was pressed
against something hard and hot.

“Oh my.”

“Dammit, Ivy, touch me.”

Uncertainty, excitement,
fear, arousal. All of it flooded her senses and made her stiffen. Her mind
became a whirl. She kept her hand flat against that pulsing heat of his
arousal, frozen.

He rocked into her palm
again, using his teeth to nip at her neck. Then one more time. “Need you, Ivy.
So badly.”

The words, so rough and
wanting, coarse like some of his language, tore inside her. She needed him too
but something held her back. Inexperience perhaps. An understanding that there
would be no going back after this. A sudden realisation of how inappropriate it
all was. She still wanted him. She couldn’t help it but...

“Ivy?” He lifted his head
away from her neck and met her gaze. His eyes searched hers. Then he cursed
under his breath—a string of words that turned the air as blue as his gaze. 
Any other time it might have amused her but not now. Not when she was holding
his... his
cock.

“Ivy, you should return to
bed.” He lifted her hand away from him and pressed it back against the table,
firmly away from his person.

The disappointment stirring
inside made tears singe her eyes. So confused, so desperate. She hardly knew
what she wanted.

“You don’t want this,” he
said, shocking her at how he read her state of mind.

“I-I do not kn—”

“Return to bed,” he told her
softly.

August reached down,
fastened his trousers and cupped her face with his free hand. Flattening a kiss
to her forehead, he shifted enough to let her free of his embrace. She slipped
out, unsure what else to do, and he rested both hands on the table, his head
dropped in defeat.

Ivy reached out but snatched
her hand back at the last minute. He didn’t move, didn’t look at her. He only
waited for her to leave. And what could she offer him? She hardly knew. This
was too much. She’d come here to earn enough to get her back to London or to
feed her until she found a job here. She’d certainly never intended to give up
her innocence to her master.

Stepping away, she moved
swiftly to the door and drew it shut behind her only to pause at the sound of
his palm smacking the table. Horrified, fascinated and wildly excited, Ivy put
her eye to the gap in the door and watched as he opened his trousers and
slipped a hand down. She couldn’t see much but she saw enough.

She’d driven him to this.
August closed his eyes and pleasured himself. His body was tense, his expression
grim. Each rasping breath curled deep down inside her and she knew she’d never
forget this sight. She watched until his eyes crunched tightly shut and his
muscles quivered. Then he uttered her name...

August pondered the sharp point of the letter opener
before slicing through the envelope. It would be put to better use cutting off
a certain extremity, he thought grimly. Then he might at least get some peace.
Three days since he’d kissed Ivy, since he’d... Damn it all to hell.

Since he’d scared her.

He clenched his teeth and
eyed the drawing room clock. She was due back from her walk at any moment.
She’d been studiously avoiding him since that evening in the kitchen. His
wounds were healing but his shame refused to disappear. He had thought himself
better than his base needs, but apparently not.

Even now the memory of the
feel of her stirred his cock. He recalled her heavy breaths and the way she
kissed with such passion. But of course she did. Ivy lived every moment like
that, with such excitement and fervour. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d
felt so passionate about anything—not even the tunnel. Certainly he’d been
excited to begin with but once the scrutiny and the doubts had been heaped upon
him that excitement had quickly been buried under a mountain of stress.

Drawing out the letter, he
skimmed the contents. Somehow he needed to make it up to her. But how did one
apologise for all but thrusting one’s cock upon an innocent?

Not to mention the gnawing
ache in his belly reminded him that she had wanted him—that she had begged him
to kiss her. Lord, that had been his undoing. How could he resist a woman in
need, let alone one like Ivy with her expressive dark eyes and glossy, glorious
hair?

August pinched the bridge of
his nose and re-read the invitation. He’d been expecting it. The summer
gathering at Grandbury Hall was a regular occurrence and held by one of the
railway tycoons, the Duke of Surridge. As much as he loathed social gatherings,
he’d have to attend. It was expected.

A woman strolling past the
window drew his attention from the letter, bringing about the most ridiculous
sensation within him. It wasn’t her. The brief bubble of anticipation quickly
faded. Bloody hell, was he to spend the rest of his days feeling as though he
were standing on the edge of a bridge waiting to jump?

Or be pushed. Slowly but
surely, Ivy was nudging him towards the edge. The other night had been the
first push and he’d nearly fallen. How many more occurrences would he tolerate
before he plummeted to his doom? How many more times would she beg him to kiss
her?

She wanted him—perhaps not
in the same way he wanted her—but she did desire him. However, in her innocence
she could hardly know what she was asking of him. And was he really willing to
taint her so for a brief moment of passion? As she liked to remind him, she
wouldn’t be here forever. Ivy might rarely think of consequences but he was all
too aware of them. Everything he did had a consequence. When building a
railway, nothing could be left to chance—not when lives and livelihoods
depended on him.

What would happen when they
parted ways and he’d ruined her? She would never accept marriage, he knew that,
so they
would
part ways. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of her
regretting her time with him.

He discarded the letter on
the side table and reached for his coffee, draining the too hot liquid quick
enough to leave an unpleasant tingle on his tongue. Punishment perhaps for his
sordid thoughts. No less than he deserved, he reckoned.

So what other options did he
have? Force her to leave and struggle to care for Elsie again? Or spend however
long they had left together fighting the liquid heat that flowed through him
and inevitably travelled down when she was around?

 August released a mocking
laugh. What else could he do? He needed her—for Elsie’s sake. The child adored
her. Sensible child. There was much to adore about Ivy.  And he suspected Ivy
was growing increasingly fond of the baby. He had to admit that now he was not
carrying the burden of looking after her all the time, he took more pleasure in
being with the child. Her increasing smiles and babbling words often made him
chuckle.

The front door clunked open
and he jumped up from his chair before pausing, feeling like a prize fool.

“Bloody idiot,” he muttered
to himself and scraped a hand through his hair. He waited for the sound of the
door shutting and stepped out into the hallway.

Several reasons drove him to
confront her. For one, he could not tolerate walking on eggshells in his own house.
Additionally, the thought of her discomfort aggravated him. And finally—and
this was hard to admit—he wanted to spend more than a brief moment with her.
Looking at her, speaking to her would only feed his fantasies but he was like
an opium addict—desperate for more.

“Good morning.” He helped
her draw the pram into the hallway and to one side.

He might have laughed at the
way she appeared so surprised at seeing him if he had felt in a more jovial
mood. But that wary cast to her expression brought about a bitter taste on his
tongue. Damnation, he didn’t want her scared of him. Perhaps he should reassure
her, but how? He’d already broken his promise never to touch her.

“You’ve been out for walk?”

“Yes, sir.”

Ivy lifted Elsie out of the
pram and went to settle her on her hip but the child reached for him. He took
her and allowed her to thread her fingers into his mouth. He nipped playfully
at the tiny fingertips, making Elsie giggle. Ivy’s gaze flitted between them
both, her brown eyes softening.

She turned away swiftly to
grab the newspaper from the pram. Annoyance burned his gut. She was still
searching for auditions then. He had no reason to be annoyed. She’d been clear
she would not be staying forever and if he could just get hold of his cousin,
perhaps he’d have no need of her. Not to mention the infernal discomfort of
having this beautiful woman under his roof would be at an end.

But he still hated the
thought of her leaving.

“Any news of interest
today?” he asked.

“No, sir.” She released a
sigh.

August let his jaw go tight.
Sir. God, how he hated that now. God, how he wanted to hear his name on her
lips in that sensual, seductive voice of hers. Not that she had any clue as to
how much pleasure he drew from her voice.

“No auditions then?” he
pressed before turning into the drawing room. He had Elsie so she’d have no
choice but to follow.

“No, nothing.”

He put Elsie on the floor
and found one of her discarded toys—a large wooden train. The child grabbed it
and happily wheeled it across the carpet, satisfying August that she’d be
occupied for a few minutes at least. That way he could clear the air.

He cleared his throat. “Ivy,
will you let me apologise for the other night? I was... not myself.”

Her lids drooped slightly
and her shoulders softened. She twined her hands in front of her. “Oh.”

“I seem to be doing this a
lot, but I want to assure you, you are not at risk being under my roof. I will
not do anything you do not wish me to do.”

A slightly wry smile skimmed
her lips. “You do say that a lot.” Her chest rose under her berry red gown.
“What if I wanted you to do something?”

This delicate, beautiful
woman might well have punched him in the gut. He felt as though he’d gone ten
rounds with Holbert. And he, the great fool he was, could not help but ask,
“What would you wish me to do?”

The gravelly texture to his
voice made him wince. What power did this woman have over him that she could
take him from determined to do something, anything, to bring their relationship
back to a more formal position, to being ready to drop to his knees and beg to
touch her?

Her tongue darted out to
sweep her bottom lip. Had he not been aware of Elsie playing on the carpet, he
might have stepped forwards at that moment and tasted the sweet, plump ripeness
of those lips.

“If I’m very honest, I don’t
really know.” She released a wavery smile. “I want you, August, and I have
never really wanted a man before.”

Ten rounds? No, make that
twenty rounds. At this point she could knock him down with a feather.
I want
you
. Those three words rattled around his skull over and over. She’d never
wanted another man, yet somehow she wanted him. He, with his grumpy, uptight
ways. This beautiful, exotic creature wanted the unadventurous, staid house
pet.

Every part of him tensed.
Every
part of him. Damn it, as controlling as he was, why could he not also
control his body? Ivy had brought him to that edge again and now he was
teetering on it.

 “Do you understand what you
ask of me, Ivy? I’m a flesh and blood man and you are a spectacular woman. You
shouldn’t speak to a man that way.”

“I’m not speaking to just
any man,” she told him, drawing up her chin. The uncertainty was gone and if
he’d been a bright man, he’d have fled then, but apparently he was the dimmest
man in the world. “I’m speaking to you, August.”

She had to know. Had to know
what it did to him when she said his name. “I’m not a dishonourable man but you
make me want to be one,” he said through clenched teeth. He forced his hands to
his sides.

Ivy tilted her head. “You’ll
always be honourable to me.”

Elsie had apparently tired
of her train as she began tugging at his trouser leg. He grimaced. Could he be
any bigger of a fool? Hell, he’d been entertaining thoughts of pulling Ivy into
him, kissing her until she was malleable and willing in his arms and then
dragging her upstairs to show her what she was asking of him. Except this was
the middle of the day, Elsie needed seeing to and Ivy was his employee.

Uncurling a fist, he dashed
his hand across his face and bit back a groan. “I’m going out,” he said curtly.
Ivy put out a hand, the flat of her palm facing him as though she could hold
him back. He pressed past her. “You’re testing me beyond my limits, Ivy.”

He didn’t wait for a
response but he imagined her standing there, open-mouthed. He snatched his hat
from the hat stand and jammed it on his head. Then he stepped outside and drew
in a deep breath. August refused to glance at the window to see if she watched
him leave. He took the steps quickly down to the pavement and strode in the direction
of the library. Really, he’d prefer to visit the boxing club but his body was
still recovering from the last beating he had taken and he had work to do.

And he had to figure out
what do with Ivy. Had he ever met a woman so bold? He eased past a group of
four walking leisurely along the street. He didn’t think so. In truth, his
occupation meant he mostly spent time with men. What few women he’d socialised
with were gently bred types who would never declare their desire for a man,
perhaps not even if he was their husband. It just wasn’t done.

Dread pooled in his stomach
as he spotted a flamboyant hat up ahead. Purple and green feathers sprouted
from this monstrosity and Mrs Pepperwhite wore a similarly garish dress.

He knew the moment she’d
spotted him. Her pace grew more determined. She had the look of a hunter
chasing down her prey. Why he had to be the hunted, he didn’t know. Surely
there were other more eligible, interesting men out there? He hadn’t once
encouraged her... had he? He had been trying to fight his attraction to Ivy and
failed there. Perhaps he had given off some invisible signal that told Mrs
Pepperwhite he found her company anything other than tiresome.

A carriage passed by, then
several men on horseback. He kept an eye out for an opening to cross whilst
continuing headlong towards the widow. He couldn’t appear rude but if he found
a moment to cross the street, he would. Alas, no opportunity appeared and she
was upon him before he could even debate throwing himself under the wheels of a
carriage to save him the discomfort of a conversation with the woman.

“Mr Avery,” she greeted,
slightly breathless.

No doubt hunting down her
prey had left her winded. He allowed himself a twisted smile. If she saw the
wryness behind it, she didn’t reveal as much in her expression. Instead she
fairly beamed at him.

“Mrs Pepperwhite.”

“Your nursemaid is not with
you?”

He tightened his jaw. She knew
well she was not and she’d already thrown some disparaging remarks his way
about Ivy. Why Mrs Pepperwhite wanted to discuss her, he did not know, but he
intended to put an end to the subject with haste. He’d come out to forget Ivy,
or at least figure out the riddle of her, not to talk of her with the
interfering neighbour.

“She is not, as you can
see.” He glanced around. “Mrs Pepperwhite, I am in quite a hurry, so if
you’ll...”

“Did you receive your invitation
to the Grandbury gathering?”

“Yes, just this morning.”

“I am helping organise it,
you see.”

He let his brows lift. Mrs Pepperwhite
was relatively well-regarded in their social circle. Men of industry such as himself,
without rank or title, tended to remain as part of a certain echelon of
society. They were respected, admired, but were never quite esteemed like those
with a title. Not that it bothered him, but the duke was an enterprising man
and was ambitious. He knew that to succeed in the modern world, he needed men
like August. But what use did he have for Mrs Pepperwhite?