Page 16 of His Unwanted Temptation (Heart’s Compass #4)

She’d done it, she’d laid herself out there for him. Been honest about her wants and needs. Never in her life would she have ever thought she would be where she was.

And where was that?

Lying back in a tub, naked, with a man who wasn’t her husband touching her. One large, strong hand on her torso while his other continued to retain proprietary hold on her inner thigh. Her legs were out of the water and by all accounts she should be chilled, yet she was anything but.

Rosamunde had to hold her hips still because they nearly lifted to encourage his touch to brush her. His earlier touches still had her shuddering.

If he made her repeat it, she wouldn’t have the courage. Bryn didn’t say a word. Nothing but warm breath passed his lips as he kept his mouth by her neck.

“Look at you, baby. I wish you could see how sexy you look like this, all spread for me.”

Slick from the water, there was no resistance to his pushing a fingertip inside her slit. Her lips formed an ‘o’ even as she rocked into his touch. More. More. More. That was the singular thought scampering through her head.

She whimpered when he added another finger, forcing her body wider.

“There’s my good girl,” he cooed in her ear. “Take my fingers, baby. Christ, you’re gorgeous.”

She closed her eyes as a wealth of emotions flowed through and over her. She didn’t know what to do, where to look or how to act. So she gave in. Rosamunde gave up control of her body to this man kneeling beside the basin in which she bathed.

He thrust inside her, not hard, not deep and not enough. She needed more.

Releasing one of the sides, she moved her hand to grab his wrist and get more when he growled.

“Don’t you fucking let go of that side, lioness.”

“Bryn,” she moaned in protest but obeyed. The command in his tone was absolute.

He slid to the side and she could see the set of his jaw, how tightly it was clenched. The heat in his eyes as he ran them over her body in the water. Holding the sides, as directed, she sat up and nipped his chin.

His growl became louder and he pushed deeper inside her. Scissoring his fingers, he forced her wider. The burn was there, but it pushed into an incredibly pleasurable pain. And she craved more.

His palm cupped her while his thumb continued the torturous assault on her highly sensitive bundle of nerves. Every so often he scraped a nail over the nub, shooting more sparks into her.

More and more she shifted, thighs trembling as he worked within her. Thoughts scattered. Rosamunde felt the pinnacle she desperately sought nearing and she whimpered again, doing her best to follow his command and not release the sides. But it wasn’t easy.

The desire to shove her fingers through his thick black hair and scrape her nails along his scalp hit her. Hard. She didn’t want to do this with another person. Something inside her had clicked the moment he touched her.

He was her person.

And if this was all he would ever allow between them, she’d take it. Then selfishly hold onto the memory for the rest of her life.

I won’t think about him doing this to another woman. He’s not mine, it’s not my business who he brings pleasure to.

“Ow,” she yipped. Turning her head to him, she lifted her eyebrows. “You bit me.”

“You went somewhere else.” He pumped his wrist, increasing the burn and her craving. “I’m the only thing to focus on here, baby. Nothing else takes up a single spot in your mind, not when my fingers are fucking you.”

His crass words warmed her.

“To have you laid out before me on the floor or in a bed, Rosamunde, would be a gift no man in this world would ever deserve but I dream about having.”

The words fell from his lips so low she almost didn’t hear them. When they registered, her body softened a bit more. She wanted to experience the heavy weight of his hard body over her.

She wanted him to kiss her again. Facing him, she looked at his lips then back up to his eyes. His gaze was focused on his hand between her legs and she closed her eyes, trusting him to get her to where she needed to be.

A low laugh flew from him and she shuddered at the heat it grew within her.

“I don’t think so, baby.” His fingers stopped moving. “Eyes open.”

Two seductive words she obeyed without questioning why this man could simply give orders like this and she would listen.

He watched her, blue eyes burning with a fire she never wanted anyone else to bear witness to.

“I want to see you when you come all over my fingers. Lord knows I want to taste you as well, but this way first. One day I will be between your legs and looking up at you as you orgasm on my tongue.”

She fell over the edge as pleasure spiraled through her. Lifting her hips, she took his fingers as deep as he would give them to her. Her breasts rose from the water as her back arched and his name spilled from her lips.

* * * *

Knocking on the door brought her to consciousness. Blinking, Rosamunde sat up in the bed and glanced around the room. Alone. Bryn was nowhere to be found and the bath remained by the fire. For all intents and purposes, the room looked as if she’d taken a bath then crawled into bed and napped. Obviously he had moved her after their shared experience in the tub. She flushed.

Pulling back the coverings, she noticed she had nothing on. Her shift was in a pile on the floor.

The knock came again and she swallowed hard. “Coming.” Sliding from the bed, she rushed to the shift and tugged it over her head before pulling on a robe to cover herself. Then she went to the door and opened it.

“Yes?”

“Beggin’ your pardon, Miss Fletcher. We were seeing if we could remove the bath now. If you’re finished.”

Flushing, she nodded even as she stepped back. “Of course. Thank you.”

The maid was followed by several others who took buckets of water with them until the bath was low enough some footmen could lift the basin and carry it out of her room.

She closed the door behind them and relaxed against the wood, protected from the chill by the thick robe surrounding her. Embarrassment flushed her skin as she realized what must have happened after experiencing the pleasure he’d given her.

She’d passed out.

How will I ever be able to look him in the eye again?

While not her first orgasm, she’d learned to pleasure herself a while ago, after she’d realized she was going to be alone, as people in society wanted someone thinner and prettier than her, it was by far the best she’d ever experienced.

Bryn didn’t seem to have a problem with my body.

She smiled as the memory of his callused touch flooded her. Then her insidious side piped up.

He didn’t do this out of the water, so maybe he didn’t actually like your body. Perhaps it was the only way he could bring himself to touch you.

A sob surged from her throat and she slid down the door, hand over her mouth. Unsure of how long she stayed there, when the chill began to permeate her through the thick robe she struggled to her feet and stumbled back to the bed, where she bent at the waist, hands on the bedspread.

Her chest hurt.

Her feelings were wild and riotous, ones she didn’t even try to tame. It was best if she held onto that and remembered that this man was leaving and it wouldn’t do to have any actual deep emotions for him.

Lock them up .

She lifted her head and walked to the mirror, where she stared at her reflection. Behind the lingering flush on her skin and the sated look in her eyes, she watched until the determination she needed to see appeared. It wasn’t often she had that, given her life was mostly people beating her down.

She could do this. She would eagerly soak up any and all attention he wanted to give her, any knowledge about pleasure he would share, and she would not make the mistake of allowing emotions to get involved.

Her future had already been decided, and while she didn’t know what it would bring in its entirety, she understood the old man she was being sold to wasn’t the best choice for her. She, however, had no other options.

For the moment, she would do what she could to store up all the memories that she would need to get through the remainder of her life.

A life without Bryn.

Shrugging off the robe, she turned her back on the reflection she didn’t want to view, walked to the closet and opened the door to see all her new dresses. Purchased not by her own mother, but by a woman who had shown her all the love and affection she craved.

No need to call for a maid, she’d not had one for a long time and could dress herself, especially with these being simple in design. She pulled out a dress of pale green, the material soft against her fingers, took a moment then drew it on.

Once she was dressed, she swiftly braided her hair over one shoulder and tied it off with a purple ribbon. She opened the door and inhaled sharply.

Keely leaned against the wall across from her doorway, elegant eyebrows arched and a smirk lifting her lips.

“Expecting someone else?”

Expecting? No. Hoping? Humph, there wasn’t a thought she wanted to give any credence to.

* * * *

Days later, at the academy, snow continued to batter the window, shaking the glass and making Bryn realize two things. One, he was glad to be inside and two, he truly missed the cabin he grew up in. A brief smile tipped up his lips as he recalled growing up there, a large fire roaring in the hearth, keeping the small cabin toasty even as they were pelted by the winter storms that kept them isolated on the mountain.

How would Rosamunde like his place?

Bryn shook his head.

Doesn’t matter. That’s not an option.

Didn’t much matter to his brain, she’d dug in deep. After their interaction in her room, he’d left after settling her naked, luscious , curves beneath the bedding so she wouldn’t get chilled or sick.

Then he’d promptly gone to his room and found his own release while pulling up unforgettable memories of her as she orgasmed.

By my hand .

Lord help him, it hadn’t been enough. Even now, all these days later, he still couldn’t explain how he’d managed to walk away from her instead of coaxing her back to awareness with teasing touches, fleeting kisses and more until she was spread wide beneath him while he powered home deep inside her tight, wet, hot channel.

His cock sprang to life again. Not that he’d been soft since that moment. For the rest of that weekend, he’d treated her like one of the family. Desperate to not make her feel uncomfortable.

Didn’t stop him from being a bit bitter that she had been able to carry on as if she’d not been given the best fucking orgasm of her life.

And yes, he knew it had been, especially since she’d passed out right afterward.

They’d been partnered in some games and on opposing sides in others. His time had been fun but still a yearning for more had haunted him. Day and night. It became more and more clear to him he needed to revisit their agreement and change the parameters. He didn’t want to let her go.

“I’m here, Lord Wetherstoft.”

At the intruding voice, Bryn pivoted from the view in time to see Rosamunde’s brother striding up.

“You’re late.”

Lovell huffed and crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes.

“Don’t argue with me on this. I know when seven-thirty was and it’s past that.”

“It wasn’t my fault,” the protest fell. “It was the servants who were late in getting me up and dressed.”

Irritation spiked and Bryn lifted one eyebrow and scowled. “Perhaps you should grow up and be man enough to get yourself up and stop blaming others. It’s called being a man and taking responsibility.”

“I don’t have to take this from you.”

Bryn took a deep breath. “You’re right. Consider this over. You want lessons again, find someone else to train you.”

He walked away, ignoring the sputtering of the young man behind him.

Not even able to call him a man for sure.

“No, you can’t do that to me.”

Without slowing, Bryn neared the spot that Rosamunde sat at when she was there. He’d known she’d not be in today, as she’d told him she had another engagement to attend. Something about getting a dress fitted for when she met her affianced.

A low growl emerged from him. He liked the idea of her and this old lech even less now than he had initially.

Because I got to know her and I actually like her. And I desire her.

Across the room, Falcon sparred with another boxer and ducked a punch before giving Bryn a look he knew well. Replying with a slight nod that he was fine, he’d made it to the hall when Lovell grabbed his forearm.

Bryn was already moving in reaction and saw the smirk on Falcon’s face before he grabbed Lovell. He lifted the male and slammed him into the wall of the club, and the entire place around them fell silent.

Arm braced along Lovell’s throat, Bryn pressed in, watching dispassionately as the air restriction began to take its toll.

“Do not ever lay a hand on me again.” He moved closer, leaning in, smelling his fear. “This is your one warning. You do it again and you’ll never eat solid food again.”

Face pale, sweat moving down his face, Lovell gulped and struggled to breathe.

“I’m sorry, I just… You can’t stop training me. My father expects me to learn from you.”

“I don’t give a fuck about you or your father. You’re disrespectful and I have no time for it. You said you don’t have to take it and neither do I. Let’s not forget that on my poorest day, I could buy and sell your family many times over.”

“Bryn.”

Remington’s low voice broke into their small bubble.

“What?”

“Try not to kill him in here, yeah? Take him down toward the docks and do it there. You know how hard it is to scrub blood out of flooring.”

Bryn hadn’t known Lovell could get paler yet. However, he did.

“Get out of my club.” The dictate rolled free on a deep rumble as he stepped back. Bryn continued down the hall, knowing Remington would ensure that the trash was removed.

He tugged on his coat at the door and stepped out into the cold. They’d not had a winter like this in years and he sighed. If this didn’t change, he may be leaving later than anticipated. Swinging up on his gelding when it was brought to him, he flipped a coin to the boy and rode off down the street, one destination in mind.

Remington had said by the docks, and the first thing that had popped into his head was the orphanage where his sister volunteered her time. And he headed in that direction.

Because why? Oh that’s right, you know Rosamunde has made it her business to go down there when she could to see if she could be of any assistance. And you’re so caught up in her you’re willing to face your sister simply for a glance.

Flicking away some cold snow, he ignored best he could his subconscious and touched his heels to his mount, asking for more speed. As he didn’t have a carriage behind him, his horse was far more maneuverable than those around him, so he slid through and around them with ease.

When the large building came into view, he slowed and gazed around, unease settling between his shoulder blades. Not too far from where they housed the children was a house of ill repute. One he would have to pass in order to get to his destination. As much as seeing if Rosamunde was there was a draw, he did have an actual destination in mind. One to help him get out of his head for a while.

Damn it, why couldn’t thoughts of her stay out of his head? He adjusted in the saddle, the gelding responding with ease to the subtle shift in his weight and stretching out his stride.

Because when I close my eyes, all I see is her flushed, begging, taking my fingers like her body was made for me and only me.

Shaft thickening, he took a deep breath of the cold air, lips turning up in disgust at the thick layer of coal dust that he inhaled. One thing he wouldn’t miss when he left London behind.

Childish laughter broke through his musings and he canted his head to the left and spied a bunch of young boys running around outside, having snowball fights and enjoying themselves.

A small smile came. It made him happy to see children playing. Too many times here he saw them sad and tucked away in corners, not allowed to stretch their limbs or enjoy being outside. A few unhappy adults stood out there as well, maintaining a sort of order in the chaos.

He didn’t slow, even though he figured his sister was somewhere in there. Possibly Rosamunde as well.

Thoughts he didn’t want to peruse. Knowing how cheap her father was, he wouldn’t have allowed her to use the family carriage, which meant his woman had rented a hack to get down here. He ground his jaw.

His woman.

Also not anything he needed to focus on.

She’s not mine.

Not true , the possessive devil within him argued. You gave her her first orgasm from other than her own touch. You were the first to lay eyes on her naked body.

Damn it !

He’d worked himself up into a foul mood when he finally reached his destination and slid off the back of his mount before handing him over to one of the young men who worked there.

“Lord Wetherstoft.”

“Mick. Good to see you. How’s your ma?”

Pock-scarred cheeks creased as the hard man broke into a small smile. “Feeling better now, thank you.”

Bryn gave him a sharp nod and walked to the brick building with the heavy steel door. Pounding on it, he waited as the small slit near the top opened, allowing a pair of eyes to gaze at him.

No words were forthcoming, but the door opened seconds later and Bryn stepped inside Mac’s, a notorious gaming hell that served mostly the seedy side of London. The warmth inside sank into his cold bones and he rolled his shoulders to work out the stiffness.

Women pranced around wearing little more than shifts, getting pats on the ass and breasts groped by the men who smoked, drank and gambled. Nodding at familiar faces, Bryn claimed a seat and knew his favorite drink would be on the way.

Here he could forget all things pertaining to Rosamunde and the way she felt around his fingers.

He shivered.

Yeah, here to forget.