Page 22 of To Heist and to Hold

That sweet peace, however, disappeared the moment she opened her eyes to the near pitch dark of the room, mind no longer dazed from passion, and recalled all that had occurred between her and Ethan.

Something that was made all the more vivid when she realized she was still wrapped around him like a squirrel climbing a tree.

She froze, hand splayed over his very wide, very firm chest as mortification filled her.

No, perhaps not mortification; she certainly wasn’t ashamed of what they had done.

She had planned on taking him to her bed—or his bed, as in this particular case.

And anyway, physical intimacy between two consenting adults was natural. No, she was not ashamed.

But something uncomfortable was condensing in a horrid amalgamation in the pit of her stomach.

Made worse as, quite against her will, she once more recalled the things he had done to her—and how she had responded to them.

She pressed her face into the silk of his waistcoat, as if the blood that had rushed to her cheeks had somehow created a blinding beacon in the darkness and she could hide it in his shoulder.

She had not thought the things that had happened between them were possible.

Oh, she had fully understood the pleasures many experienced from the act.

After having lived with Sylvia and Laney, she could not be ignorant of that. They were quite demonstrative.

Her imagination, however, must be severely lacking.

She had never in her life expected such a sensation.

Even thinking of it now had heat blooming anew between her legs.

A feeling that she ached to relieve. But in that moment, the last thing she wanted was to wake Ethan.

God, she could not face him just then. Ironic, really, considering how closely their fully clothed bodies were pressed together.

But she was being an absolute ninny. She had come here for the express purpose of seducing Ethan, the culmination of several days of effort.

She paused. Not that she had done much seducing tonight.

Except for her fumbling kiss, he had been the one to instigate things between them this evening, hadn’t he?

Strange, seeing as he had tried his damnedest to keep her at arm’s length until now.

Why had he done such a severe about-face with her?

But she was being unduly suspicious. Things had worked out, hadn’t they?

Who truly cared how they had gotten here, as long as she had succeeded in what she had set out to do?

Now she just had to make certain this affair continued.

It was not about getting him into her bed; it was about keeping him there and getting him to, if not trust her, at least let down his guard so she might gain much-needed access to the more private areas of Dionysus and find those blasted jewels.

Which she would accomplish only by sticking close to his side.

No matter how desperately she wanted to slip from this bed and escape this room so she might not have to face him.

An urge that was growing harder to fight with each tick of the clock.

Below them the sounds of merriment could be heard, the club still a hive of activity.

What time was it? How long had she been asleep?

Had Sylvia and Laney left for home? All the while, as her mind spun like a top, she was very much aware of the large male halfway beneath her, his strong arm hooked about her back, his even breathing in her ear, the very firm muscles beneath her fingers—the way her leg had somehow insinuated itself between his own.

Mayhap it truly would be better to slip from his arms and the room and this club altogether, she reasoned a bit wildly as her lungs seized.

Who knew how long he would sleep, after all?

Yes, she should definitely find a way to leave…

preferably one that did not include waking Ethan.

And so on and so on her thoughts spiraled away from her completely sound logic of a moment before.

Until a large, warm hand covered her own and stopped her panicked thoughts in their tracks.

“Are you going to go back to sleep?” a husky voice mumbled, rumbling under her ear. “Or would you like to pick up where we left off?”

“Oh!” she squeaked, intensely aware of his arm tightening about her back, bringing her even closer to his body.

He rubbed his cheek against the crown of her hair, a strangely affectionate action that had her heart going from panicked thumping to lurching in…

longing? She attempted to swallow the emotion down, but it only grew stronger as his thumb caressed the back of her hand where it lay against his chest.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” she finally managed.

“I’m not,” he murmured, a second before he rolled her onto her back and came up on one elbow to lean over her.

The firelight had died down to faint orange embers, the only light in the room the indirect silver moonlight coming in through the windows.

Yet it was enough to glint in the unending depths of his eyes and highlight the rugged plains of his face.

To reveal a hunger she had not expected to see, most especially not for her, who had never inspired such a look from anyone in her life.

“It is ironic,” he said, the words a deep rumble that fairly vibrated her bones, his fingers going to the bodice of her gown, gently running along the edge in a way that made her breath catch, “that I brought you purposely to this bed to strip you naked, and yet here we are fully dressed.”

“Goodness,” she whispered, unable to help herself. Then, screwing up her courage, she said in a voice that shook much more than it ought to, “Mayhap we might see that through next time we are together.”

He stilled. His gaze, which had dropped to trace the path his fingers were taking along her neckline, rose to meet hers, and to her shock the heat that had been present there seemed to have increased tenfold. “Will there be a next time, then?”

She swallowed hard. “Y-yes?”

His lips quirked, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way she had never seen in him before. The sudden shift in expression made him appear younger, carefree. “You do have a strange habit of asking questions when you should be answering them. Could it be you’re flustered?”

“Why would I be flustered?” But the question had the opposite of the effect she had hoped for, her breathlessness giving proof of it rather than refuting it.

Though she could not regret it as his smile deepened, his teeth flashing in the moonlight.

Goodness, and she had not thought he could get more attractive.

Her gaze zeroed in on that smile, and those full lips, and she recalled with impressive clarity all the wicked things he had done with them not long ago.

With incredible will she gripped tight to the sheets beneath her lest she reach for him and drag him down for a kiss.

Ethan was not so reticent. He lowered his head, capturing her lips with his, making her toes curl and her body fairly melt beneath his.

It was over quickly—much too quickly, but she would rather chew nails than admit that—and he rolled from the bed to stand, holding out a hand for her.

She stared at that hand several moments longer than necessary, her brain not understanding right away what she was to do with it.

Finally, however, she reached out, gripping his fingers tight, allowing him to assist her to her feet.

“I shall hold you to that promise,” he murmured, thumb tracing her knuckles.

Then, releasing her hand, he moved off deeper into the shadows of the room.

She thought he would surely open the door and kick her out.

But no, he quickly returned to her with her slippers in hand, bending down before her and gently guiding her feet, one by one, into them.

Why, she wondered as she stared down at his bent head, did she once again feel like crying? Her throat burned with tears as his large hands worked with infinite care to make certain her slippers were secure before he stood again.

“Give me a moment and I’ll bring you back to your party,” he said.

But the tears that had begun in her throat were somehow quickly moving up to her eyes. Why? Because the man had shown a bit of kindness toward her? Yes , a small voice whispered in the back of her mind. Which was too pathetic for her to countenance.

But no matter that she knew better, that did not lessen her sudden need to cry.

Worried she would make an utter fool of herself in front of this man, she quickly backed away from him.

“There’s no need,” she said, moving toward the door.

“I can find my own way back. I’m certain you’re busy.

” She turned and reached for the handle, throwing the door wide.

Golden light from his office flooded the silvery dimness of his bedroom, blinding her, chasing away the last bit of intimacy between them.

Or so she thought. She made the fatal mistake of looking back.

He stood in the middle of his bedroom staring after her, looking deliciously mussed with clothing creased and cravat hanging limp and hair sticking up in odd places.

But it was the strangely soft, almost vulnerable look in his eyes that had her very nearly closing the door again and rushing back to him.

She shook herself. No, she had to leave, for her own sanity if nothing else. The man was quickly making her lose sight of why she was here in the first place.

She forced a smile. “I shall see you tomorrow,” she said before, giving him one last long look, she closed the door.

Ethan stared through the darkness at that closed door for much longer than he would ever willingly admit.

He had thought that by allowing Heloise to seduce him, he might gain the upper hand in their strange dance and understand a bit more of what she was angling for.

Yet his mind was even more muddled than before.

He nearly snorted. Allowing her to seduce him?

He had damn well nearly jumped her the moment he’d had her alone.

Just the sight of her in that damn dress had nearly sent him over the edge.

And when she had kissed him… he ran a hand over his face.

How was it possible that one simple, unpracticed kiss could affect him so deeply?

Even thinking of it now, the small, surprised gasps from her lips, her fumbling hands, kisses that had not had a bit of guile in them, and his cock twitched to life.

He would not have been the least surprised if he learned she was an innocent.

Or at least an innocent before tonight. His vision went hazy and his mouth watered just remembering how she had tasted.

He forced himself back to the present. Yanking at his limp cravat and tossing it aside, he padded to the bedside lamp and lit it before striding to the small cabinet in the corner and reaching for the cut glass bottle of brandy he kept there.

His hand shook as he poured himself a healthy glassful of the stuff, the staccato clinking like a scolding to ears that had recently heard only the glorious sounds coming from Heloise’s lips.

Scowling down at his traitorous appendages, he slammed the decanter down and grabbed the glass, sloshing a bit of the expensive liquor over the edge as he did so, before going to the large window looking over St James’s.

But even as he glared down at the busyness beneath him, even as his eyes took in the carriages still pulling up to the front of Dionysus and milling bodies still hungry for vice traversing the street, he hardly saw it for the image of Heloise resplendent amidst his sheets.

Letting loose a rough curse, he took a deep swallow of his drink, reveling in the burn of it as it traveled down to his stomach.

No matter how he had lost himself in her this evening, he refused to lose sight again of why he had allowed this affair to begin with.

He would be more in control of himself when he saw her the next day. He swore it.