Page 25 of Ladies in Hating (Belvoir’s Library Trilogy #3)
Cat wrenched apart the fastenings of her bodice with more force than was strictly necessary.
She felt one hook pop, a tiny casualty that made her temper rise higher.
This was her best frock. “I did not know if it was meant for me or for you or—or—” She bit back the foolish words that wanted to leak out.
“Perhaps if you had spared a moment to explain to me what the devil was going on—”
“I was—I was trying to—”
Cat shoved her dress down past her hips and yanked at the tape of her petticoat.
Georgiana was still pressed against the door. Her eyes dropped to Cat’s body, clad now in nothing but stays and a thin chemise as her petticoat fell to the floor. Her lips parted, and her long, searing look passed across Cat’s skin like the stroke of a palm.
Cat gritted her teeth against the surge of satisfaction and desire and foolish hurt at the way Georgiana’s breath caught. The way her eyes dragged helplessly, in spite of herself, across Cat’s body.
Cat stepped out of her petticoat and moved deliberately toward Georgiana.
Georgiana swallowed.
“Trying to what?” Cat said, low and soft. “Tell me. I want to know.”
“I was doing dishes. ” Georgiana’s voice sounded fractured. “I know you did not want to share a room with me. I was trying to get the innkeeper to give you a room of your own, and when she insisted the inn was overfull already, I thought—I thought you would have time to go to sleep or—or—”
Cat halted, shocked into immobility, and stared at Georgiana.
Georgiana’s chest was rising and falling unsteadily.
Her right hand had come to rest at the base of her throat, and when Cat fixed her gaze upon Georgiana’s fingers, she could see that they were red from hot water and lye.
Georgiana’s thumb brushed across her own collarbone, a tiny soothing gesture that she instantly stilled.
Her eyes—that crystalline blue—were dark in the candlelit room. Her chin was tilted up, all thorns and protection, her last pretense at invulnerability.
Cat couldn’t stop herself. She moved closer. Close enough to feel the warmth of Georgiana’s body.
“You were washing dishes,” she repeated. “So we might have two separate chambers.”
“Yes.” Georgiana’s chest rose with her breath, and their bodies almost, almost touched.
A shiver ran through Cat, electric, uncontrollable. She clenched her hands into fists to keep from reaching for Georgiana. “Why?” she murmured. “Is that what you want? To stay away from me?”
“No,” Georgiana said, and it was almost a cry. “Of course I don’t, but you—”
Cat shoved her fingers into Georgiana’s hair and dragged Georgiana’s mouth down to meet her own.
Georgiana made a sound against her lips, a half sob of relief and furious desire. Her hands came around Cat’s waist and yanked her close, and oh God, the feel of her—
Cat groaned and wrapped Georgiana’s hair around her fist to hold her still. Georgiana kissed her like she was angry, like she wanted to swallow Cat whole. She sucked on Cat’s tongue, and Cat felt feverish with lust, blurred and hot and aching.
She pushed Georgiana back against the door, still cradling the back of her head. Georgiana whimpered, then lifted one long leg and wrapped it around the back of Cat’s calf to draw her closer still.
Their bodies crushed together. Cat’s tight nipples dragged against the thin cotton of her chemise, and Georgiana’s hand came down to clutch at the curve of Cat’s hip.
Her thumb dug into Cat’s pelvic bone, a luminous pressure, not quite pain.
Desire pulsed in Cat’s lower belly, a throb between her legs, and she needed—she needed—
She gasped and stumbled back, wrenching herself away from Georgiana. “No,” she said, almost desperately. “No, I can’t—”
But the words died in her mouth as she looked at Georgiana, still pressed against the door. Her hair had slipped free from its pins and spread across her shoulders, a spill of moonbeams in the dim room. Her mouth was swollen, and she was breathing fast. Her eyes were locked on Cat’s.
“I’m sorry,” Georgiana said thickly. “I’m so sorry. I know you wished”—she swallowed—“for me to be elsewhere tonight. I should not have impugned you so.”
“That’s not—” Cat cut herself off, swore, and started again. “That’s not what I meant.”
Damn it. Damn this woman, with her big wounded eyes and her unsteady breaths and all that barely concealed vulnerability.
How could Georgiana believe, even for an instant, that Cat did not want all of this?
Cat wanted nothing but this. She wanted bare skin on bare skin; she wanted candlelight pooled across Georgiana’s long, lithe body while she traced each rise and fall of flesh with her mouth.
Except she knew herself. She would not be content with one night of pleasure—not if, when the morning dawned, Georgiana’s face would be shuttered and her body held tight with shame.
“I can’t do this,” Cat said. “Not again.”
Georgiana did not move. Her fingers were locked in her skirts, her mouth a tight guarded line.
“I can’t kiss you again,” Cat said, “if the moment we stop, you mean to act as though you never wanted me.”
Georgiana’s lips parted. She took a single, shaky breath. “I want you.”
“I believe that you do, but—”
Georgiana’s eyes were damp and blazing, and she pushed off the wall and strode toward Cat. “I have always wanted you.”
Cat couldn’t look away from Georgiana’s face, not even as Georgiana stepped closer still and she had to tip her head up to meet Georgiana’s gaze. “I don’t understand.”
Georgiana was close enough to touch now, and she did. Her fingers brushed Cat’s cheek, the line of her jaw. Her lips: the top and then the bottom.
“You can’t know,” Georgiana whispered. “You cannot possibly imagine how long and how desperately I have wanted you.”