Page 6 of The Lady Was Lying (Greydon #3)

It probably wasn’t fair, but fury exploded in Belinda’s chest. She had given herself countless opportunities to feel passion, and it had always remained out of reach. It wasn’t her fault she was broken.

It wasn’t.

Trying to catch her breath and telling herself she needed to calm down before she said something unforgivable did nothing to ease the storm that raged inside of her.

Pressing her fingertips into her eyes, she groaned extravagantly, and then, in a move that was almost unforgivably dramatic, rose to her feet and stomped out of the room.

Instead of retiring to her bedchamber like a sane person would, she went down the hallway, grabbed her pelisse and hat, and trudged out of the house.

After she had walked a few blocks, she halted and angrily pinned the hat over her brow, sticking pins this way and that.

When it was secure, she resumed walking, her pace brisk.

Exerting energy had always been effective in calming her temper, and slowly but steadily, she relaxed. After a bit, her thoughts became clearer. Unfortunately, clarity did not erase her words or her actions.

It never did.

Unable to forgive herself for the harsh way she’d spoken to Jane, she attempted to redirect her attention to something less fraught so she wouldn’t get worked up again.

Naturally, her thoughts drifted to the only other thing she wanted to ignore—the man from the gardens. The one who had rejected her.

When she’d awoken that morning, she had refused to allow herself to think about him, but that didn’t mean she’d forgotten him, just that she had successfully avoided lamenting his rejection for a short time.

In her present state of mind, she couldn’t help rehashing it.

How had he found it in himself to reject her? And why did it bother her so much?

She walked so far that she came upon Louisa’s favorite bookstore. It was not the sort of place she normally frequented, but since she was not ready to face Jane yet, she went inside anyway.

It was rather empty. The only people in sight were the shopkeeper and an older man leafing through a book near the window.

Belinda ignored them both and slipped down the narrow passage between the shelves.

The sounds from the street became more muffled as she ventured deeper into the store, and the quiet seeped into her bones.

It was far more pleasant than the bustle of the street and exactly what she needed.

At a break in the shelves, she turned and stepped around a stool that partially blocked the aisle.

Even though she had no particular interest in browsing the books, she pivoted again and went down another row.

Continuing to weave whenever she reached another break in the shelves, she halted abruptly when she spotted a man squatting in front of a tightly packed bookshelf at the far end of a row.

His back was toward her, and she could just make out his quiet muttering as he ran his finger over the spines of the books on the bottom shelf.

His thick black hair was perfectly styled, and his waist was lean in comparison with his shoulders.

She could not discern anything else about his appearance from her vantage point, but in her current state, she did not need to know more.

“Good day, sir,” she drawled in her sultriest voice.

His broad shoulders rippled when he shifted his weight, unfolded his limbs, and rose smoothly to his feet.

Her first glimpse at his face revealed that he was even more handsome than she’d expected.

It was rare that she encountered a man whose beauty rivaled her own, and the appreciative sparkle in his eye told her that he was as impressed with her as she was with him.

His lips twitched into an almost smile as he leaned casually against the bookshelf across from her.

“I’ve come across a lot of things in this store, but never anything as breathtaking as you,” he murmured.

His words were like a warm summer day, filling the holes in her punctured ego.

The tension that had lingered from the previous night and been exacerbated by her argument with her sister evaporated under the heat of his gaze.

“I don’t come here often,” she said in the same throaty tone.

He smiled slowly. “Why are you here now?”

“Because you’re here.” It was a ridiculous thing to say and completely untrue, but his smile widened anyway.

She stepped forward until her skirts brushed his ankles, and he responded by sliding his feet farther apart.

Taking the invitation he wordlessly offered, she laid her hands against his chest.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered.

“I won’t stop you,” she replied, her eyes drifting closed.

She waited, just as she had the previous evening. Her confidence still slightly shaky, she might have been concerned that he’d retreat if he weren’t trapped between the shelves and her body. The knowledge that there was literally nowhere for him to go emboldened her as she shifted even closer.

The brush of his jacket against her bodice registered a split second before his mouth latched onto hers.

The kiss was intense. Hungry. No softness.

No gradual buildup. His tongue thrust into her mouth immediately as he unleashed the full force of his lust, kissing her as if his life depended on it.

Attempting to keep up, she sucked on his tongue, pawed at his chest, and lapped at his mouth.

As she mimicked his soft groans, she begged her brain to shut off and feelings to take over. As usual, it didn’t happen, and the harder she tried, the harder it was to stop thoughts from intruding. Why couldn’t she let go and enjoy kissing a handsome man?

His hips thrust against her belly, the solid presence of his arousal offering irrefutable evidence that he was enjoying himself.

Vague annoyance settled over her.

It wasn’t fair.

The man whose tongue was thrusting into her mouth was undeniably gorgeous and obviously experienced, but neither her head nor her body cared about either.

Frustrated with herself, she broke the kiss only to have him nip at her mouth and whisper, “Would you consider accompanying me to my lodgings? They are just around the corner.”

She shuddered. Not because he had propositioned her, but because their kiss had not motivated her to say yes. Refusing his advances was as good as admitting that she had been unmoved. It was another failure in an endless line of disappointments.

With despair clawing at her, she released him and stumbled backward until she hit the opposite bookshelf.

“I’m expected at home,” she said, offering an excuse rather than a direct refusal.

It didn’t change the result, but it was slightly less horrid than admitting she had used him for her own experiment.

Rubbing the back of her hand across her mouth, she tried to wipe away the taste of him. Tobacco and something sweet lingered on her lips—or her conscience—and trying to rub it away did nothing to diminish it. If anything, struggling to remove it made her more aware.

“I could call on you tomorrow,” he offered. “Take you for a jaunt in my phaeton and then continue what we started here.”

“I’m sorry, but that would be…disastrous.”

She gave up on attempting to remove the remnants of his kiss.

“I am exceedingly discreet.”

“Disastrous for you ,” she clarified, brushing her hand down her bodice and confirming that she was not outwardly disheveled.

Her motives had never been pure when she’d kissed a man, but this was worse than normal.

Inconsiderate. Unkind. Selfish. There were too many words that could be used to describe her actions. None were flattering.

He nodded slowly, and his lack of recrimination made her want to disappear. Why wasn’t he furious with her? She wouldn’t blame him if he were.

“I’m sorry,” she told him again, and then, for the second time in a matter of hours, she spun on her heel and fled. She rushed out of the bookstore and onto the street as fast as her feet could carry her. Without making a conscious decision, she headed back toward her brother’s townhouse.

Her thoughts were, once again, spiraling.

Her sojourn into the bookstore had made everything a million times better and a million times worse.

On the one hand, she had encountered a man who desired her, which meant the world was as it was supposed to be, and her confidence was restored.

On the other hand, she had broken her own rules, and even though she had, she hadn’t enjoyed herself.

Stomping along the pavement, she dodged people and tried not to allow herself to dwell on the fact that the total number of men who had kissed her had increased by one while her desire for any man remained at zero.

Acknowledging it would only put her in a bad mood.

A worse mood.