Page 19 of Goodbye, Earl (Ladies’ Revenge Club #4)

He very easily might have ceased to exist in the moment.

His body felt like it had blown itself into a thousand pieces, all scattering aimlessly in the air like dandelion seeds.

He could not even move at first for the shock of it, for the staggering, titan weight of this woman’s lips pressed softly against his own.

He didn’t come back into himself until she added her tongue, sweet and hungry, sliding along his bottom lip.

He heard the sound he made then, the desperate, animal thing that managed to growl and whimper all at once.

He heard it like he was far away, and then he was suddenly fully in his body again; he was cupping her face with both hands; he was tilting his head; he was returning the lash of his own tongue to her with the fervor of a starving man, a thousand-year prisoner, a castaway finally handed rescue.

He rolled his hips against her and felt her gasp into his mouth then return one of those carnal little sounds, those notes human voices only played in a single context.

He ran his fingertips over her cheeks, her jaw, her throat.

He tasted her deeply, a taste that had haunted his dreams across miles and years.

He brushed his touch over the swell of her breasts, just as her handkerchief had done.

And then he did the most scandalous thing of all.

He pulled away.

“No,” she protested, so softly he might have convinced himself he imagined it if not for the way she pressed her face into his hand as it came up to cup her cheek again. Her eyes flicked open, blinking several times until she could focus on him. “Don’t stop.”

He groaned, dropping his head and pressing it into hers. “Don’t tempt me. We’re in full public view, Claire.”

“Don’t tempt you ,” she repeated with what sounded like amused incredulity. “Yes, it is I who has been doing the tempting. Freddy, please.”

He laughed despite himself, even if only quietly. “I haven’t been flitting around dancing the seven veils, Claire. What have you been telling people?”

“Very bloody little!” she answered, wrinkling up her brow. “And you know exactly what you were doing, veils or no.”

“I never know exactly what I’m doing,” he said immediately, grinning at the way her body stiffened against his.

She tensed but still did not pull away from him. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“Yes. Unequivocally, this is something I very much wanted,” he said, looking down at her lips again, a bit puffy from the strength of his own.

He leaned down to steal one more kiss. He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t resist it.

He let himself moan from the perfection of it, let himself delight in the fact that she still returned it, even with all that outrage in the core of her body, and then he pulled back one more time.

“I still do, but perhaps not with the entire bloody world watching from the hilltop?”

Claire sighed. “They can’t see us,” she told him. “Though I’m sure that if they could, they’d start applauding again.”

“There are plenty of private corners back at the Nook,” he told her. “But it isn’t just that. It’s also … well, you know.”

She dropped her head back, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment like she couldn’t fathom why she put up with him. “Freddy …” she said in an impatient groan.

“Weddings! You know how weddings are. How they … they make us … a little different,” he attempted, knowing he sounded like an idiot. “The romance of it, you know? Do you understand?”

Her eyes popped open and she put the angle of her head back to rights. “You only want to kiss when it’s not romantic?”

“No! I only …” He trailed off, wincing. “I want to kiss when I know you are not only doing it because of a compromising atmosphere.”

“A compr…” She trailed off, blinking at him. “Oh, well, then, my apologies. I did not realize I had lost my entire sense of agency due to weddings. Tell me, is it only I who am impacted by such things? For you might be too, husband. I’d hate to think I’m taking advantage.”

He shouldn’t have done it, but he smiled at her. It did make her actually twist away from him this time, her annoyance glittering on her skin. She looked magnificent, her color high and her breath coming faster.

“I just want to earn it,” he said, “on the normal days and the wedding days. I want to know it’s real.”

She hesitated, clearly realizing that he was accusing her of an attitude of impermanence tonight. Sadly, he thought she was also realizing that perhaps he was right.

“I only want to earn it,” he repeated, which only made her huff and turn her face to the side.

She still looked beautiful, of course. She still shone.

“Oh, all right,” he teased, “I shall kiss you again if it gets you out of your snit. Come here.”

“Oh, shut up, Freddy,” she snapped. “I am going back to the dance.”

“All right,” he told her. “I think I will go back to the Nook. I don’t see my clothing looking correct again tonight.”

“It never did,” she reminded him, nodding down to his loose cuffs. “You look like Lady Macbeth.”

He twisted his lips, holding his wrists up in the air for her scrutiny.

She returned the expression, something threatening to become a smile shaping her mouth. She shook her head and turned to go, stopping only once to turn her head and say, “Good night, Freddy.”

“Good night,” he answered many moments later, when she could no longer hear him, “my love.”