Page 16 of In a Rake’s Embrace (Sins & Sensibilities #3)

CHAPTER 16

Y ou are wonderful .

Three simple words, yet they clung to Thomas, haunting him long into the night, lingering in his thoughts as he drifted into sleep, and followed him even now as he walked into Aphrodite . He had been praised countless times before—flattery flowed easily in his world—but Agatha’s had oddly pierced him. They were not born of obligation or a desire for favor. She was … genuine. The taste of her pussy on his tongue lingered; the feel of her tightness around his fingers kept his cock hard for hours afterward. The memory of her trembling, her heels digging into his shoulders, her emerald eyes dark with lust as she unraveled lingered, teasing and tormenting him relentlessly. Still, the joy on her face and her laughter in the hot air balloon stayed with him even longer.

Thomas made his way through the halls of Aphrodite , his steps steady as he ascended to the third floor.

“My lord,” a breathless voice called from behind.

It was Lady Bea, looking flustered, her cheeks flushed. Thomas arched a brow. “Yes?”

She clasped her fingers before her. “You ... you are early .”

He tilted his head, noting the accusatory tone beneath her breathless voice. “It is seven.”

“You ... you hardly ever come before midnight,” she stammered. “Lady Agatha is not available.”

“Where is she?”

Bea glanced away nervously. “Learning ... from Madam Rebecca. They are not to be disturbed.”

Thomas smiled and strode toward the fourth floor. He approached the madam’s boudoir, knocking briskly before a young maid opened the door and ushered him inside.

“No ... no... too fast, slower, more sensual ... yes ! Now again … yes, perfect!”

Lifting a brow, Thomas stepped into the private parlor and faltered, feeling as if his damn breath had been snatched from his body. There, before him, was Agatha, dressed in a way that seized his every sense. A small slip of emerald silk clung to her breasts, leaving little to the imagination. Her belly was exposed—the soft curve of her skin gleaming in the candlelight. The skirt, a matching emerald, hung low on her hips, and long slits at the sides revealed the flawless length of her thighs and legs. Gold beads adorned the hems of the fabric, catching the light with every slow, sinuous movement she made.

What she wore was unlike anything he had ever seen on another woman, so utterly provocative it made his heart hammer against his chest.

She was dancing.

Agatha’s hands twisted gracefully above her head, her fingers trailing through the air as her hips rolled and swayed to an erotic rhythm he could not hear. Her belly undulated in a slow, sensual wave, her movements deliberate, tantalizing. It was as if her entire body was singing with a language of seduction he had never known a woman could possess.

Thomas’s mouth went dry, and he could only stare, frozen in place, his senses enthralled. There was a magnetic allure to her, something raw and untamed, and it struck him forcibly that he could not move his fucking gaze away from her. He was used to controlling every situationand desire—but at that moment, she had all the power, leaving him reeling.

Another sinuous twist of her hips and their gazes collided. Agatha’s eyes were half-lidded, and a small smile curved her lips, teasing, knowing. She wasn’t just learning—she was becoming something more, something fucking irresistible.

You are wonderful .

Thomas scrubbed a hand over his face. What the hell was this nonsense?

Agatha moved closer, the sway of her hips never faltering. Her eyes locked on his as if she knew exactly what she was doing to him. The golden beads shimmered with each step, the soft rustle of silk filling the space between them. His body tightened with a fierce need, every muscle coiled, waiting for anythingto break the tension that stretched between them like a taut wire.

Thomas clenched his jaw, willing himself to maintain composure, but the fire she ignited within him was impossible to ignore. She was no longer the hesitant, blushing girl from a couple weeks before. She had transformed into a woman who could command desire with a single glance, a roll of her hips.

“Bravo,” Madam Rebecca said, “I have never seen such a look on Lord Radbourne’s face. Well done , Aga.”

He masked his expression and took a step forward. “You have learned well.”

Agatha stopped her danceand stood before him, her chest rising and falling with the exertion of her movements, but her smile remained, teasing the edges of his self-control.

“I had a good teacher,” she said softly, the heat of her gaze never leaving his.“I have been practicing for hours.”

“I daresay Agatha is a natural,” Rebecca murmured, a cool mocking in her gaze as she stared at him. “It took me a couple of days to reach where she is now.”

Agatha laughed. “It is a dance called Raqs Sharqi. Madam learned it when she lived with her lover in Egypt a few years ago,” she said, her voice carrying a new, sultry confidence . “I love it.”

“I wanted Agatha to attend the naughty musicales I keep and do this performance to … whet the appetite of her bidders. However, she wants to leave this for the night of the auction. The men must only know they are in for an unparalleled delight.”

The thought of the many eyes on her, hungering to have her beneath them, filled Thomas with a raw feeling that was completely unknown.

He cleared his throat, forcing his thoughts away from the provocative dance and back to why he had come early. “I came to teach you the waltz.”

Madam Rebecca, who had been watching with mild amusement, turned her gaze on him, her brows lifting.

“Why does she need to learn the waltz?” she asked.

Agatha, her face still flushed, did a most unexpected twirl. “I am going to a society ball!”

Madam Rebecca’s head snapped toward her, then back to Thomas, her eyes wide with surprise. He knew what was going through her mind—he had never mixed his life here at Aphrodite with his life in the ton . The two worlds were always kept separate. The curiosity in Madam Rebecca’s gaze was palpable, but Thomas remained indifferent, staring back at her without revealing a single thought.

“I am here to teach you the waltz,” he said again, “Come on.”

Madam Rebecca’s mouth quirked into a slight smile. “Well then,” she said, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer. “You should also play the flute for her next practice.”

“I will hire a master for that,” Thomas replied, his voice smooth, but a note of finalitysilenced further discussion. It was likely best if he wasn’t present when Agatha learned this dance.

“That will be quite expensive,” Rebecca said, though her smile widened as she realized what he meant.

In return, he lifted a single brow, and that was all the answer she needed. Rebecca nodded, understanding that Thomas would be covering the costs. She excused herself from the room with a light chuckle, leaving them alone.

Agatha smiled at him. “Are we going to dance here?”

“I would prefer my chambers or yours.”

Her eyes flickered with curiosity, but she remained silent as they left Madam Rebecca’s boudoir and walked down the hallway toward his private quarters. Her steps were slower, more hesitant, and Thomas noticed the pensive look on her face. They reached the door to his private room, and Agatha leaned back against it.

“Why are you helping me so much?”

“I already told you. I am a man who commits to a task wholeheartedly.”

She frowned, her lips parting as if debating her next words. “Is that all I am to you, then? Just a cause?”

He stiffened. “What else am I supposed to see you as?”

Agatha gave a small, almost playful shrug, her eyes holding a glimmer of something that made his chest tighten.

“Perhaps ... a friend.”

It wasn’t often someone tried to bridge that gap with him. He was used to keeping people at arm’s length, and they, understanding his reserve, kept their distance. Tupping and friendship did not mix. In his experience, it always led to unrealistic expectations he had never promised. “Friends?”

She tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear. “Have you ever thought that you’ll help prepare me to be the perfect lover ... for someone else? Does it trouble you in any regard?”

Her words hit him like a blow, a sharp, knife-like sensation twisting in his chest. For a moment, he didn’t know how to respond. The thought of her being with someone else—someone who would benefit from all the lessons he had given her—filled him with a sudden and inexplicable sense of possessiveness.

“No,” he said, his voice colder than he intended. “Why would it?”

“I was merely curious.” Agatha lowered her lashes, her expression unreadable, before she turned, opened the door and stepped into his room.

Thomas stood there for a moment, watching her disappear through the door, his jaw tightening. The knife in his chest remained, its sting sharper than he cared to admit. But with a deep breath, he pushed it away and followed her inside. A single lamp lit the room, casting soft shadows across the polished floor. Agatha stood in the center, waiting, her hands clasped before her. Thomas shook off the unsettling feeling and focused on the task at hand.

“We’re here to waltz,” he said, stepping toward her.

His tone was controlled, but a hunger he did not like simmered underneath it all. Thomas approached her, placing one hand on her waist and taking her other hand in his.

“The first step is to feel the rhythm. The waltz is about grace but also connection. Follow my lead.”

She nodded, her expression serious but soft, her eyes meeting his with a quiet determination. “I am a quick learner.”

“First, you must always maintain this frame.” He gently placed her left hand on his shoulder, firmly holding her other hand. “Your posture needs to be graceful, shoulders back, chin up. Never slouch, even when you relax.”

She adjusted her posture, trying to mirror his movements.

“Now, the basic step,” Thomas said. “It’s three beats—one, two, three. Think of it like a square.”

“A square.” Agatha frowned, glancing down at their feet.

He gave a small smile. “Yes. Step forward with your right foot for the first beat.” He moved, guiding her forward. “Then, to the side with your left for the second beat.”

She followed, her steps tentative but steady.

“Finally, bring your right foot together with the left on the third beat. That’s the first part.”

“Forward, side, together?” Agatha repeated.

“Exactly. Now, I’ll move backward as you step forward. Always mirror your partner.”

They began to move, and Thomas murmured, “Keep the rhythm. The key to the waltz is to let the movement flow. There should be no hesitation, only trust between you and your partner.”

Agatha swayed in his arms. “How do I turn?”

“Once you’ve mastered the basic step, we’ll add the turn. On the first beat, step forward and pivot as you go to the side. It’s a gentle twist of the body.” He demonstrated, pulling her closer as they turned smoothly, his hand guiding her waist.

Agatha’s breath caught at their closeness, but she focused on the dance, her steps growing more confident. “Like this?”

“Perfect,” Thomas said, his voice low. “Now, keep turning with the music.”

Her eyes laughed at him. “It is a tad difficult without the music.”

He made some low sounds in his throat, trying to imitate the hums.

She dissolved into laughter. “You sound like something dying.”

Thomas smiled. He had deliberately done a bad job because he wanted to see this smile on her face and hear the joy in her chuckles. They continued dancing, gliding across the room.

“Oh, this is wonderful. I see the appeal of attending balls so often. Bea tried to explain the season, and I was astonished that some indulge in such pursuits for weeks before retiring to the country to hunt. I cannot imagine what I would do with such leisure.”

Thomas lowered his head andpressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. A dark hum of pleasure blasted through him.

Agatha stilled. Her soft, wondering gasp whispered across his skin like a touch. “What lesson is this?”

Fuck . Since their first kiss, they had shared several more. Each was a lesson, with instructions flowing between every lick and nibble. He guided her through soft kisses, deep, passionate ones, and those meant to tease and tempt. But for Thomas, it wasn’t just about teaching anymore. He found himself craving the press of her lips against his because he wanted to feel and taste her.

“This is no lesson,” he said, reasserting his control and then drew back. “Let’s continue dancing.”

Agatha nodded, her steps growing lighter as they twirled together. After nearly an hour of practice, Thomas felt a simmering restlessness burn through him. He excused himself and left Agatha, heading downstairs to one of Aphrodite’s lavish drawing rooms. The room was filled with soft laughter and the clinking of glasses as several of Madam Rebecca’s ladies, all beautifully gowned, entertained gentlemen lounging in comfortable chairs and sofas. Thomas entered, still feeling that gnawing sense of discontent, but forced himself to move through the room with an air of ease.

His friend, Brandon Armstrong, lifted a brow when he spotted Thomas. He leaned back, swirling his drink, an amused look settling on his face.

“Well, well,” Brandon said. “I never expected to see you down here tonight. There is a rumor going about.”

“Hmm, what has Lady Bea told you?”

Brandon tugged at his cravat. “It could have been someone else.”

“Unlikely,” Thomas drawled. “Given your obsession.”

His friend scowled. “I am not obsessed .”

Brandon sighed at Thomas’s pointed stare.

“Bea merely said you seemed … fascinated with a new lady that will soon put her virginity on auction. Is it true?”

“I thought Madam Rebecca announced the date of the auction.”

Brandon smirked. “Oh, everyone is abuzz with the notion of the auction. I am askingifit’s true you are fascinated.”

“No,” he clipped.

A half smile touched his friend’s mouth. “Fancy taking a girl or two upstairs?”

Thomas stared down into his glass, feeling empty. It was as if nothing in the room, not the laughter, warmth, or flirtatious looks cast his way, could touch him. When he searched himself for what would fill that void, the answer hit him with startling clarity—he wanted to go back upstairs—to Agatha.

“Bea surprised me by suggesting that she and Ellen—”

“I am not interested,” Thomas said, his voice a little more clipped than he intended.

Brandon raised both brows this time, setting his glass down. “Not interested? You? This place is your playground.”

“Is it?”

“What’s wrong? You seem ... different .”

Thomas exhaled slowly. “When I figure that out, I’ll let you know.”

Brandon studied him for a long moment, then smiled knowingly. “I wonder if it has something to do with the new lady in your life. I can tell you from experiencethat it happens when one least expects it, and there is no control over these feelings.”

Thomas’s jaw tightened at the insinuation. He downed the rest of his drink, unwilling to entertain this conversation any longer. But the truth gnawed at him, and deep down, he knew something was different.