Page 14 of Of Lies and Earls (Inglorious Scoundrels #2)

D on’t stop.

Her plea sent a shiver down his spine.

He wasn’t going to. He didn’t know if he could .

The taste of her skin, the sound of her moans, the way she moved beneath him, ignited a fire that could only be tamed by her total and complete surrender.

He wanted her. More than he had ever wanted anything in his life.

Driven by instinct, he let his hands roam her body, boldly learning the shape of her breasts, the curve of her waist, the fullness of her hips, while his tongue traced a path down to the edge of her bodice.

He dipped his head lower, aching to circle her nipples with his tongue, to surround them with his lips and suck on her sweet nub.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured,and he meant it. Though he could barely see her features in the dim light—he didn’t need to. He could feel her. “So beautiful.”

His friend’s advice must have worked, because she moaned, tipping her head back, surrendering to him completely, her fingers plunging into his hair, massaging his scalp.

God, how good this feels. The heat of her touch, the desperate tug at his hair, guided him where she wanted him.

He eased her backward until her legs met the edge of a chaise lounge. Gently, he lowered her onto it, following her down, covering her body with his.

“I shouldn’t want this so much,” he confessed against her skin. “I shouldn’t feel… this.”

He pressed his knee between her thighs, parting her legs, his hands cupping her breasts, thumbs searching for her nipples through the thick fabric of her bodice.

She let out a desperate sound—somewhere between a cry and a whimper—and it nearly pushed him over the edge.

He hooked his fingers over the neckline of her bodice and yanked it down, the sound of tearing fabric sharp in the quiet, freeing her soft, round, perfect breasts.

He almost came right there.

Caldwell looked away, forcing himself to breathe, to think.

He palmed his engorged cock and squeezed, silently begging it to behave. Just a little longer.

Relax. Think of something else. Anything else.

But the woman beneath him reached out, her touch light as a feather, and asked, “What’s wrong?”

He turned toward her sharply.

That voice.

He could have sworn she sounded just like her.

Honoria .

The thought should have pulled him from his delirious state of desire. Instead, it only intensified it. That’s why he had such a visceral reaction to this woman. She reminded him of her .

When he kissed her again, in his mind he was kissing Honoria . When he cupped her breasts in his hands, he saw his poised, professional housekeeper writhing under his touch.

He surrendered to the fantasy, letting himself imagine it was her. The woman who ran his household as if it were her own. Who cared for his wards more tenderly and fiercely than he ever could. Who spoke gently, moved gracefully, and managed his life with ease.

He dipped his head and took her breast into his mouth, licking the dark areola, sucking deeply, savoring her taste. He moved to the other one as his fingers found the hem of her gown and began to draw it upward, slowly revealing the smooth skin of her calf… then her knee.

She trembled under his touch but didn’t stop him. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her back arching in invitation.

God, how he wanted her.

He wanted to lose himself in her. To thrust into her in one desperate motion. To feel her heat from the inside and spill himself into her depths.

His hands glided up her inner thighs, and she let out a low, guttural moan. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please… yes.”

Caldwell rose over her and kissed her deeply on her soft, sensual lips.

She pulled him close, fingers twisting in his hair, her tongue exploring his mouth—tickling, teasing, challenging him.

He couldn’t wait any longer. He needed her. Now.

He undid his breeches and pushed them low over his hips. Lifting her skirts, he pressed his cock to her warm, wet center—because she was indeed very wet—and they both moaned at the exhilarating contact.

He rubbed himself against the seam of her sex, gathering her slickness, marveling at the delicious friction.

“Yes,” he whispered. “You feel so good.”

He positioned himself at her entrance, the head of his cock slick with her desire—

When the curtain suddenly swung open, and a woman stepped confidently into the room. “My lord, I apologize for the delay—”

The woman’s smooth, sensual voice sliced through the fog of lust like a blade.

Caldwell jerked upright, yanking down the woman’s skirts to cover her most intimate parts, though he remained fully exposed.

The intruder, wearing the white wig favored by the harlots of Hades’ Hell, and a scandalously revealing gown, cast her gaze downward, tilted her head, and licked her lips.

The woman beneath him scrambled to sit up, struggling to pull her bodice over her lovely breasts.

When the intruder finally raised her eyes to his, she said, “My apologies. I must have the wrong room.”

She turned and walked out, but not before casting one last glance at his still-throbbing cock.

In the chaos, his lover had managed to slip away. She had gathered her skirts and darted toward the door.

He reached for her instinctively—but she was too fast, and his breeches were still undone.

By the time he’d fastened his falls, she was gone. Vanished into the crowd, leaving behind nothing but the memory of her kisses.

* * *

Honoria fled down the corridor, her heart pounding so violently she feared it might burst from her chest.

What had she done?

What kind of madness had possessed her?

She ducked into an alcove, pressing herself against the cool stone as she tried to catch her breath, to slow the wild racing of her pulse, and to pull her gown back into something resembling a respectable state.

Her lips still tingled from Caldwell’s kisses, her skin still burned where his hands had touched her, and a strong pulse throbbed low in her center. She was breathless, hot, and… wet.

She would have given herself to him if that woman hadn’t interrupted. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Not when she had waited so long to know what it would feel like to be in his arms, to be the focus of his desire.

She closed her eyes, remembering the way he had whispered that she was beautiful, the way his hands had moved over her with such tenderness. For those few moments, she had been his—not a household employee—but a woman desired for herself alone.

But it had all been a lie. He hadn’t known it was her. Would he have kissed her with such passion if he had known? Would he have touched her with such reverence?

Honoria straightened, adjusting her mask and smoothing her gown with trembling hands. Her bodice was torn, and she had to hold it together or risk it slipping down entirely. She fanned herself with one hand, trying to will her mind back under control.

Concentrate, Honoria. Focus.

She was supposed to tell the earl about the children and tell him to go home. Now, that plan of action was no longer possible.

She needed to get home.

More importantly, she wanted to get back home. The hesitation, the ache in her chest, were all the signs telling her that she would never have the heart to leave this family behind.

And now that she had known the taste of his lips…

Things had changed. She wasn’t certain in which direction, but they had.

She could not just leave the children behind with a cold note. She could not leave Caldwell behind without telling him the truth about this night—about her feelings toward him.

No . She was being ridiculous. Her mind swung back from one extreme to the other.

One passionate encounter in a darkened room didn’t change anything. He hadn’t known it was her. He had been expecting a courtesan, a woman paid to please him. What had happened between them was nothing more than a momentary escape for him, a fantasy that would dissolve in the light of day.

And yet…

She couldn’t silence the voice in her head that whispered: What if?

What if she stayed? What if she found the courage to tell him the truth? What if, by some miracle, he felt even a fraction of what she felt?

Her thoughts were jumbled, and she knew she wasn’t in the best state to make life-altering decisions. But the clock didn’t care.

She pulled out her timepiece.

Two minutes to midnight.

She had two minutes to decide whether she would be leaving this life behind or staying and fighting for her place in it.

If she stayed, there were no guarantees. No promise that the earl would return her affections. No certainty he would even allow her to remain as his housekeeper after she revealed her feelings for him.

And if she revealed her true identity, there would be no future for them at all.

One thing was clear—if she decided to stay, she would need to make major changes to her life.

She could not remain the quiet, unassuming, cowardly housekeeper. She could not watch Caldwell marry another woman and sire an heir or two. She would not only need to fight for the love of the man of her dreams, but also for the life she wanted—nay, deserved—to lead.

Two minutes was far too little time to make such a monumental choice.

And yet… in her heart, Honoria knew there had never really been a choice.

She was going to stay.

And she was going to fight.