The Love Match (Entangled Scandalous) (5 page)

“Perhaps it’s time to stop.”

Her lips twitched. She wanted to lean into him, seek his warmth, tilt her head to capture his kiss. He looked so earnest in that moment—all hard angles and set jaw, none of his charm or smooth speech. This Mr. Cross was the one she found difficult to resist.

But why should she resist?
She might never feel this way again.

“Do you go to the library every night?” she asked.

His lips parted. She heard a soft inhale. “It’s not a good idea, Olivia.” But his eyes betrayed him. They were locked on her mouth, dark even in the sunlight.

“But sometimes bad ideas are quite enjoyable.”

A huff of laughter. “I can’t argue that point.”

“I think you want to say yes.”

His rubbed his jaw. “Are you propositioning me? What exactly do you want?”

“I want…” She forced herself to be honest. “I want to kiss you again.”

His whole body went rigid. “And if neither of us can stop at a kiss?”

She lifted one shoulder as though that possibility wasn’t of much consequence. And, in truth, it wasn’t. Maybe she should be more shocked at her own impulsiveness, but she’d spent her whole life
not
being impulsive—it was only natural that when she found something worth being impulsive for, the dam would break under the pressure.

And in her opinion, the reward outweighed the risks. She’d begun to think more and more of her sisters and the love they’d found with their husbands. Even if any of the men her mother threw her in front of actually wanted to marry her, would
she
want to marry
them
? A marriage without love sounded like the worst sort of fate, and she’d decided she wouldn’t subject herself to it, no matter how much her mother might try to cow her.

But if her chances of wedded bliss were dismal, that didn’t mean her life had to flow into long years of chaste, emotionless spinsterhood. She could still have passion. She could still lose herself in William’s arms, as she had the night before. As she wanted to continue doing, for as many nights as she could.

His eyes narrowed on her, glittering oddly. “Damnation,” he swore.

She smiled. “Was that my answer?”

He looked as baleful as an unfed cat, but he didn’t elaborate. He spun on his foot and continued toward the stables, leaving her to complete the last few steps to the house by herself.

Before he was out of earshot, he said, over his shoulder, “You are trouble, Miss Middleton. I should have seen it.”

Chapter Five

“Have you decided on a wife yet?” William asked as Ashworth lined up his shot. The gun blasted and recoiled, and a pheasant plummeted to the ground. The hunting dogs rushed forward to retrieve the fallen bird.

Another pheasant was flushed out from the sound of the blast, and a few feet away, Lord Middleton raised his gun to shoot.

William wondered what Olivia’s relationship with her father was like. Were they close? Did she tell him things she didn’t tell her mother? Was he proud of the woman she’d become?

“I think I’ve narrowed down the field,” Ashworth answered.

William shook his head with a smile. “You’re approaching it as a military campaign, then?”

“In two years, I’ll be thirty,” his friend said. “My mother is pressuring me for an heir, and I don’t care about holding out for a love match.” He glanced pointedly at William at the last part.

William wanted to groan. “If I’d realized how out of control things would become, I never would have said that I wouldn’t get married until I’d made a love match. Do you know how many white-dressed debutantes have thrown themselves at me, or been thrown at me?”

“You enjoy the attention,” Ash scoffed.

“Up to a point,” he admitted. “This went well beyond that point.”

The men, by silent agreement, began to head back to the house. William and Ashworth fell to the back of the group as they talked.

“To whom have you narrowed it down?”

“Lady Sarah—”

“Lovely face,” he commented. “Old family.”

“And Miss Middleton.”

His head shot up. He stared at his friend for several long seconds and tried to ignore the wrenching in his gut. “Miss Middleton? Why?”

“I think she’d be rather biddable. I’m not certain that Lady Sarah would be. And I find her pleasant enough.”

Pleasant enough
. That didn’t begin to describe her. For the first time in his life, William wanted to strike his childhood friend. “She won’t be biddable,” he ground out.

“Whatever gave you that impression?” Ash cast him a sidelong glance and cocked his eyebrow.

“Have you actually had a real conversation with her? She’s not biddable. She’s exasperating and unusual and…and she’s smarter than you are. How many books have you read in your whole life? Five?”

“
Hmm
,” Ashworth uttered, not offended at all. “Will I be invited to the wedding?”

“I beg your pardon?” William’s voice rose.

“Miss Middleton is not one of my choices. I simply wanted to see what you thought of her. And now I know. That love match everyone is so anticipating might be in the making,
eh
?”

It felt as if he’d been dunked headfirst in icy water. His skin went numb. His lungs had trouble drawing in the required amount of air. And when the numbness ebbed, it was replaced with indescribable, potent anger.

“No. Don’t be a fool,” he managed to bite out, and increased his pace as though his friend were a demon he needed to outrun, lest he be swallowed whole.

What he felt for Olivia wasn’t love. It was fondness, a fleeting attraction, and that was all.

That was all he would ever allow it to be.

…

When Olivia went to the library late that night, there was no familiar scratching of a pen. No faint candlelight slipping from under the door.

She stole in like a phantom and sat in an armchair in the corner, the room around her dark except for the single candle she’d brought. She pulled her dressing gown more tightly around her, warding off the autumn chill.

She waited and waited. Disappointment and annoyance swirled together inside her. And a deep regret. He didn’t want her. Not as much as she wanted him, at least.

Eventually, her arms and legs grew leaden and she let her eyes close, and she slept. She wasn’t sure how long, but she awoke to a faint noise.

Her eyes flickered open. At first she couldn’t see anything, and she wondered if the ghost of Lord Ashworth’s grandfather had found her. Hopefully, he wouldn’t mistake her for his murderous wife.

But then William stepped into the small ring of candlelight, dressed in trousers and boots with a shirt that glowed white. She had to crane her neck to see his face.

“You’re still here.” His voice was flat.

“I was reading,” she responded.

He looked at the table next to her. Bare. His lips thinned.

But what was she supposed to tell him? She’d fallen asleep waiting for him, alone in the dark? She wasn’t his pet. She wasn’t going to let her night be uplifted or ruined based on whether or not he appeared.

She rose from the chair.

But he didn’t step back to allow her room to stand, so when she did, she found her body flush against his, without nearly the amount of clothing needed to separate heat from heat, breasts from a broad chest, soft, curved thighs from hard ones.

Contact with that tall, strong body made her achingly aware of how they were different. Where they were different.

“Let me pass.” Her voice was unsteady.

“You should have left sooner,” he said.

She didn’t have time to decipher his strange mood, because in the next instant, he lowered his head and took her mouth in a deep kiss.

Her hands reached up to twist in the collar of his shirt, her knuckles sliding against skin. She didn’t think she’d ever grow tired of kissing him. She loved the softness of his lips; she loved the way he tasted; she loved the slick heat of his tongue and the hard press of his teeth.

The best thing would be to end it now. She was supposed to go back to her bedchamber. She was supposed to show him that it didn’t matter if he decided to meet her or not. But she couldn’t find the strength of will to untangle herself from him.

…

William knew what he was doing was a mistake. He knew he was slightly tipsy—not enough to make him do something rash in itself, but enough to make a bad idea sound better than it was.

But still, he knew it was a bad idea

But then he was pushing the dressing gown from her shoulders again. This time, she also let him pull off her chemise and expose her skin to the cool night air. Goosebumps swept over her naked flesh but didn’t remain for long. He pushed down his braces so he could tug his shirt over his head, then pulled her against him, warming her chest and stomach with his own torso.

His cock pressed against her thigh, and her hips jerked forward as her hands twined in his hair. Shy Olivia wasn’t acting very shy at all, not with him, not in this. But she’d never been very shy with him in the first place.

Now would be the time to end his transgression—before they’d done anything more than kiss. To change a huge mistake into a small one. But he couldn’t stop himself from touching her, reveling in her, adoring her innocent eagerness, the passion that she wasn’t frightened of but met head-on despite her inexperience.

She was everything he’d ever wanted in a woman.

And he’d already told her marriage wasn’t for him. She’d had fair warning that wherever this might lead them, it wouldn’t be to the altar.

Mimicking something he’d done earlier, Olivia captured his bottom lip between her teeth, nipping gently, and then soothed the spot she’d bitten him with her tongue.

And that cut off his internal debate for good. Who was he fooling? He’d been past the point of no return since their first kiss.

He groaned low in his throat, lifted her by the waist, and forced her to wrap her legs around him for support, the hot flesh between them tight against the flat plane of his stomach. He tumbled her to the settee while she was still wrapped around him like a living cloak.

When she was reclining under him, he kissed down the elegant line of her throat before pulling back far enough to simply look at her. Her body was slender with long limbs and small, high breasts and gently flared hips. She was lovely.

A flush slowly spread across her chest and throat. “I’d rather you didn’t look at me,” she muttered, raising her arms to cover herself.

He caught her wrists and kissed them. “I think you’re perfect. Why shouldn’t I look at you?”

Her arms hovered in the air when he released them, as though she wasn’t certain what to do with them. “That’s not empty flattery, is it?”

“It’s the truth,” he said. He meant it.

And she must have believed him. Her arms fell, giving him access to her body. He lowered his head to her breasts, cupping them in his hands while he nipped and sucked the tips. He didn’t rest until she was moaning and arching against him.

As he captured her mouth once more, he let his hand trail down between her breasts, along her stomach, to between her legs. He felt her there, touching his thumb to her hidden peak and slowly pressing a finger inside her.

She gasped, her eyes flying open.

He paused. “Do you like it? Tell me the truth,” he warned. He nearly smiled when she glared at him.

“I… It feels a little strange…but very nice.” She blushed.

He tilted his head. “Nice?” he murmured wickedly. “I must be doing it wrong.”

He began moving his thumb in small circles around her peak, gratified when her hips started moving in a primitive rhythm. He stretched her with another finger, loving the feel of her clenching around him.

“Still nice?” He held her gaze. Challenged her.

“Wonderful,” she breathed, straining against him.

He withdrew just long enough to discard his trousers, and then he settled over her.

For the next few minutes, he rocked against her below, slickening his cock on the damp between her thighs. And above, he kissed her lips and her throat and her collarbone and her breasts. His hands circled her stomach and her chest, leaving warm, gentle trails.

By the time he actually did place the head of his erection against her entrance and ease into her body, her hips were already tilted and her back was arched, ready to receive him. He watched her face as he pushed into her warmth. He hesitated when she closed her eyes in an expression that was as close to pain as pleasure.

“Are you—?” He broke off when she shifted under him, moving to increase the friction where they joined. A strangled sound caught in his throat at the indescribable pleasure of her tight body gripping him. “I suppose that answers my question.”

And then life and time dwindled to one moment. There was nothing beyond them, no world outside of their physical awareness. Nothing but her taste in his mouth and her salty scent in his nose and her skin under his fingertips and his body moving with hers.

Then, everything built to one point, and with a low cry, her arms tightened around his waist, and her movements halted. She trembled beneath him, convulsed around him mercilessly. He thrust slowly once, twice, and again, drawing out her release, holding off his own to give her pleasure for as long as possible. But her fingernails digging into his back and her warm, soft body beneath him pushed him off the ledge. With her name a hoarse cry on his lips, he withdrew quickly, spilling his seed on her stomach.

His unsteady arms didn’t hold him for long. He was shaking as he collapsed next to her, careful not to crush her under his weight. He didn’t know why he was shaking. He only knew that, until tonight, he’d never truly lost himself in another person.

Olivia had stripped him of all control, and though his terrified heart raced at the thought of it now, a mere minute ago he’d wanted to stay lost forever. He watched her as she looked down curiously, then lowered her hand and touched the viscous liquid on her stomach, smearing it across her skin. Then she glanced at his cock, her brow furrowing.

“It’s a way to prevent pregnancy,” he explained, his voice hoarse. If he hadn’t come to his senses at the last moment, he would have held her hips and spilled deep inside her. Part of him still ached to.

“How extraordinary,” she said, sounding as though she actually was fascinated by the science of it all.

He smiled, and a feeling washed over him that was much too close to tenderness.

He turned onto his side, trying to ignore the feeling. There was barely enough room on the settee for both of them, but somehow they managed to get comfortable. He brushed loose hair away from her forehead with hands that weren’t quite steady and glanced down at her as a knot tightened his stomach.

“You’re regretting it,” she said, interpreting his expression correctly.

“No,” he lied.

She stared.

“I ruined you,” he added thickly, guilt threatening to strangle him. He was a rutting beast. Not interested in the consequences, just in the potent pleasure of having her.

“I’m only ruined if someone finds out,” she pointed out.

“What if your husband realizes when he takes you to bed for the first time?”

She inhaled sharply. “I don’t think I shall marry. And even if I do, he might not realize. You’re regretting things that haven’t yet occurred.”

“I’m thinking of your future,” he said. She should be angry, rail at him, strike him—anything other than this quiet acceptance.

“No,” she replied firmly. “You’re trying to turn this experience into something unpleasant. Something you would undo if you could. But you can’t undo it. And
I
wouldn’t want to anyway. I… I thought it was wonderful, actually.”

He closed his eyes briefly. His chest ached. “You’re being honest.”

“I know,” she said. “It’s not easy.”

“Oh, Olivia,” he murmured. She was far, far too good for him. She deserved a man who would give her the moon and the stars—not one who took her virginity on a settee in someone else’s library. But he was a selfish man, and he didn’t think he could give up these precious moments with her so easily.

And for now, for a while, she was his. He placed his hands on her shoulders, turned her toward him, and began kissing her again.

…

They met each night. Fell into each other’s arms as if the world was ending and they didn’t have much time. It was an apt comparison, Olivia thought. The world wouldn’t end, of course. No matter what happened between them, it would go on in its persistent, indifferent way. But they did have a limited amount of time.
This
world would end.

William seemed to go out of his way not to promise her anything. Not to give her any hope for afterward. It was almost as if he was trying to warn her away because he wasn’t able to sever the ties on his own.