Page 38 of Ladies in Hating (Belvoir’s Library Trilogy #3)

Dost thou not know that love banishes all fear?

— from Cat’s private copy of VéNUS DANS LE CLO?TRE by Abbé du Prat

Georgiana clutched at the curve of Cat’s waist. Her body sagged back against the shelves, weak with the vestiges of her fear, almost too dazed and dazzled to recognize the slow rise of desire inside her.

“Catriona,” she tried to say, but Cat’s mouth was hot and wet and her hands were buried in Georgiana’s hair.

She gave up on talking. She gave up on everything except kissing Cat back.

It was easy. God, it was so easy to fall into the shape and texture of Cat’s mouth, the dip of her lower back and the flare of her buttocks.

She could taste the hint of salt on Cat’s lips, and she let herself give in to a long-held fantasy.

She ran her tongue along the top, the bottom, then lingered luxuriously at the corner.

Cat gasped and pressed their bodies together harder.

The library was dim. Cat smelled of ink and soap and pastry. Georgiana’s fingers toyed with the edges of Cat’s hair and then, determinedly, plucked out a handful of pins and let them fall, clinking, to the floor.

Cat’s hair fell down in a heavy lopsided mass, and she pulled back to laugh and shake it out of her face.

That laugh. Georgiana felt her heart beat hard at the sound, familiar and beloved and not gone, not even a little bit. Her throat was tight with emotion, with relief she could not quite let herself feel.

She held fast to Cat’s shoulders to keep her back when Cat might have closed the space between them again. “You forgive me?” she asked hoarsely.

“Yes.” Cat’s eyes were dark, and Georgiana could see the candle’s flame reflected there like a star. “There was nothing to forgive. I was too hard on you. My expectations were—”

“No,” Georgiana said, and she gripped Cat’s shoulders tighter, her fingers digging in. Too hard, she thought, but couldn’t quite make herself let go. “I want you to have expectations of me. Expectations mean that this matters to you. That I matter. That you want what I do.”

Cat’s voice was very gentle. Her fingers soothed the nape of Georgiana’s neck. “And what do you want?”

“To keep on loving you, Catriona Lacey, for as long as you’ll have me.” She ran her thumb across Cat’s full lower lip. “To spend the night with you again. And”—somehow it was almost harder to say the next part—“to wake with you. To wake with you and not to go.”

“I never want you to go.”

It almost hurt, how much she’d craved those words.

How much she wanted to believe it could be so.

“If I disappoint you,” she said hoarsely, “you will tell me. You will let me make things right. Because it will happen, again and again, and I… I haven’t done this before. I’ve never felt this way, and I—”

Cat came up on her toes and neatly silenced Georgiana’s anxious babble with her mouth.

“I forgive you,” she mumbled in between kisses.

Her fingers did something wicked to Georgiana’s throat, to the place beneath her ear.

“Already. In advance.” Her mouth grew hungrier, heated and fervent against Georgiana’s jaw. “A thousand times, if necessary.”

“That number seems”—Georgiana gasped a little as Cat sucked harder—“exceptionally high. Perhaps you might expect better of—”

Cat’s mouth was on hers again, laughing, ineffably sweet.

Pleasure came in waves, then, waves that stole through her body, weighted her limbs, and swept her anxieties away. The world was dark and soft, and she was surrounded by the velvet press of Cat’s body and the rough-tender brush of Cat’s palm against her skin.

She touched Cat back, almost wonderingly. Her fingers found buttons, found heavy winter wool, and she pressed hard enough to discern the precise shape of Cat’s body beneath.

Cat made a tiny sound, almost a whine, as Georgiana’s grasping hands dragged her even closer. “I want you,” she muttered into Georgiana’s neck. “I want you naked. Come home with me?”

“Too far,” Georgiana said. “Too long a walk. Stay here.”

Cat drew back a trifle. “Here? At Belvoir’s?”

She was so damned beautiful that Georgiana felt lightheaded. Her mouth looked like the inside of a plum, flushed and glistening. Georgiana felt heat pool between her thighs, and she shifted against the bookshelves. “Selina said we could stay the night.”

“Selina said we could—” Cat’s brows shot upward. “You asked Selina if we could sleep together at Belvoir’s?”

“Not in quite so many words.”

Cat was laughing again, and it was as erotic as her parted lips had been. More. “You scoundrel. You absolute minx.”

“I would not say—”

Cat kissed her again, harder. “I’ve never been so thoroughly and deliberately seduced in my life.”

“That was not precisely my intention.”

“Wasn’t it?” Cat’s mouth curled irrepressibly into a grin, flirtatious and impudent and precisely the way that Georgiana pictured her every time she closed her eyes. “A declaration. An apology. A private room filled with licentious novels.”

Heat rose inexorably to Georgiana’s face and chest, and if she had not already wanted to unfasten the top few buttons of her frock, she certainly did now. “I shall note down the critical elements to your seduction then.”

Cat’s hands roamed from her waist to the underside of her breasts, and Georgiana sucked in a breath. “I appreciate a woman who keeps detailed records.” She set her mouth to Georgiana’s neck, but slower this time. Softer. “Georgie.” She breathed it like a sigh, and Georgiana shivered. “I adore you.”

“Do you?”

Oh God, she hadn’t meant to say that. She had hoped to paper over the great depth of hunger inside her—for affection, for reassurance. For love. Her cheeks went hotter.

But Cat did not seem to mind. “I adore you,” she said again, and then her tongue traced the curve of Georgiana’s ear, and Georgiana felt her lower belly tighten.

“I am mad for you.” Her breath tickled Georgiana’s ear, and her right hand came up to cup Georgiana’s breast. Her thumb passed lightly across Georgiana’s nipple.

“I should like very much to worship at your altar.”

“Let me—blow out the candle,” Georgiana said hoarsely, and Cat laughed again, like an invitation to joy.

Georgiana moved across the room and doused the small flame.

Selina had offered up a whole closet full of necessities for her friends—a spare set of clothing, a folding military-style cot to sleep upon, a toothbrush—but Cat did not give Georgiana time to seek out any of it.

Instead, when the room was dark, Cat urged her to the armchair in front of the hearth.

It was banked, but still warm, a slow, radiant heat that curled along Georgiana’s cheeks, the tips of her fingers.

“Sit down,” Cat murmured. “Let me do this for you.”

Georgiana sat. Cat knelt between her thighs, and Georgiana felt almost fevered, hot-cold tingles running up and down her skin.

“You needn’t,” she managed. “I can—”

“Let me,” Cat said again, and then, slowly, she slid her hand from Georgiana’s ankle up and up and up.

Her thumb worked its way around to the sensitive place behind Georgiana’s knee, and Georgiana’s thighs went loose, her legs falling wider and then squeezing around Cat’s shoulders as desire reverberated through her body.

Cat between her thighs—ah God, the sight was wicked and heavenly, and she heard a whimper at the back of her own throat.

Deftly, Cat peeled off Georgiana’s boots and stockings, and then she shoved Georgiana’s skirts above her knees. “There is,” she murmured, “one thing you can do for me.”

“Anything,” Georgiana managed. Cat’s thumb had returned to the sensitive inside of her knee, and she was stroking lightly—so lightly, almost a whisper. Georgiana’s hips jerked. It was not sensible, how Cat’s featherlight touch should send quick hot throbs of desire to her sex. And yet—

She twisted, just a little, trying to urge Cat’s hand farther up.

“Talk,” Cat said.

“What?”

Cat looked up, then, and Georgiana felt half out of her head, drunk on the sight of Cat’s face. Her lips tipped up on one side and the shadows seemed deeper where they curved around her body. The heat of her mouth was palpable, here, in the dark.

“Talk. Say anything you like, so long as you keep talking.” She pressed her mouth to the bare skin of Georgiana’s upper thigh, and Georgiana’s hips rocked, helpless and wanting.

“You want me to—babble?” Her voice came out thready.

“Yes.” Cat licked the crease of her pelvis, and Georgiana made a sound that had only a passing acquaintance with speech.

“It arouses me.” Cat lifted her dark lashes and looked Georgiana in the eye, even as her fingers trailed up to tease and torment.

“That lovely voice of yours. And the way I make you fall apart.”

“I—” Georgiana gasped. “I—”

Oh God, Cat’s movements were quick and clever, and it was so hard to think clearly. Her body thrummed with need. But the notion that she could please Cat—that she could make Cat flushed and wanting through her words alone—was a potent lure. A desire that bordered on necessity.

She tried again. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Cat’s mouth had almost reached the place where Georgiana wanted her most, but at that, she hesitated. Her gaze flicked up to Georgiana. “That was not quite what I expected.”

“You’re lovely,” Georgiana said. “Perfect.” Her hips twitched beneath the sudden rush of Cat’s breath, and she could not quite force back the moan that slipped through her lips. “I think constantly about the way your mouth moves when you smile. And when you do—what you are doing now.”

Cat’s careful focus returned. Her tongue passed slowly and deliberately over Georgiana’s clitoris and then back again.

But when Georgiana stopped talking, Cat stopped too. Her eyes flicked up to Georgiana’s face.

So Georgiana went on, panting a little. “You are so clever. I love your books. You made me laugh even when I did not know it was you. You’re—kind and—and—” Her mind felt fractured. Words slipped away, borne off on a tide of deepening pleasure.

But Cat paused again. When she looked up this time, Georgiana could see that her color was high. Her breath came quickly, her breasts straining the top of her frock. “I like that,” she said unsteadily. “All of it.”

A new thrill raced through Georgiana’s body. Yes. She was not alone in this. Their desire was shared, was wrought higher and higher by their mutual pleasure.

“I want you naked again,” she managed, and Cat’s mouth pressed back down, hotter than the warmth from the fire. Georgiana groaned a little, and tried to recall how to speak. “I want to feel you. I want your legs around my waist. I—oh—God, Catriona—I want you to come like that.”

Her climax was bearing down upon her. She felt drawn up tight, her nipples bright sensitive points where they brushed her frock. The tiny flicks of Cat’s tongue multiplied inside her, each one drawing her muscles tighter, her body closer and closer to the edge.

But Cat was aroused as well. Georgiana could tell it, even in the dark. Cat’s hips shifted as she squeezed her legs together, and her fingers on Georgiana’s thigh worked restlessly, flexing and releasing.

“Put your hand beneath your skirts,” Georgiana whispered. “Let me see you.”

And, instantly, Cat did.

Georgiana did not know how it was possible to feel so close to her culmination for so long. Her body tightened further. Her thighs trembled. And Cat—

Sweet God. Cat. Her fingers worked beneath her own skirts, and the rhythm of her mouth faltered, and the sweet little vibration of her groan pulled Georgiana’s orgasm closer still. Her temples glistened with perspiration, and a tiny ringlet curled up beneath her ear.

“That’s so good,” Georgiana said. “You’re so beautiful.

” Things had started to fade at the edges, a thick darkness at the corners of the room.

Her pulse throbbed between her legs to the rhythm of Cat’s mouth.

She tried to make herself keep talking, tried not to let pleasure bear her away, and somehow the words on her lips were desperate and nonsensical and true.

“I will love you until the day I die. I want you in my lap, with your frock off. I want to drown in your tits. Oh—fuck—”

She wanted to come—desperately, unspeakably—but she wanted Cat to come more. She reached down and caught Cat’s elbow, then dragged Cat up to her, shoving their skirts aside so that Cat could straddle her in the chair.

Cat was flushed and glazed—her eyes were glassy, and her lips were wet from Georgiana’s sex.

“Fuck,” Georgiana said again, thickly. “Put your fingers in my mouth.”

Cat did. Her fingers tasted of arousal, salt and sweet, and Georgiana sucked hard.

“Georgie,” Cat gasped, “Georgie, please.”

Her knees dug into Georgiana’s hips, and Georgiana closed her hands over Cat’s glorious buttocks, and finally—finally—they slid together, a fumbling rush of slick, grinding pleasure, with Cat’s free hand thrust between them.

Cat whimpered. Her hips rolled. “I can’t—Georgie—oh God—”

Georgiana’s mind was a blur of sensation—Cat’s fingers in her mouth, Cat’s legs spread around her, Cat’s voice sobbing out her release—

And then she came too, hard and relentless. She rode the heel of Cat’s hand as pleasure dragged her down past sight, down past hearing, down past everything except Cat.

Cat was around her and inside her and there was nothing in the world she needed, nothing she wanted except this—hot and breathless and palpable and honest.

Some long moments later, Cat’s mouth moved against her ear. “Georgie mine,” she whispered, “I love you too.”

They were sweat-damp, still mostly dressed, tangled together in an armchair. The windows were clouded with steam.

This is happiness, Georgiana thought dazedly.

And not just happiness. Hope.

This was not a mistake. It was not temporary. Cat was steadfast and true, and she would not be here if she did not wish to be, her heart pressed to Georgiana’s own.