Page 23 of To Heist and to Hold

But it seemed that vow held no more water than a colander the moment he saw her again shortly after dawn.

His eyes fairly devoured her as she stood on the other side of the boxing venue, taking in the graceful flare of her hips beneath the modest leaf-green gown, tracing the curve of her breasts, caressing the long line of her neck.

She was back to her typical garb, gowns no doubt created for comfort and ease of use. And yet…

And yet she was even more alluring than last night, when she had been draped in scarlet silk, shoulders nearly bare and every curve teased by the luxurious fabric.

He had the mad thought to go to her, take her hand in his, and drag her off to the nearest empty room so he might bury himself in her supple body.

Which was probably why, he realized blearily a moment later as he tugged at his suddenly much-too-tight cravat, he had not immediately noticed her talking in a very close, intimate manner to a handsome young man dressed in workman’s garb.

He blinked as some strange bitter taste filled his mouth.

What the hell was wrong with him? Of course she was talking to the workers.

She was here to help oversee the preparations for the boxing match, after all.

She had been working hard with all the craftspeople to make certain everything was built to the proper specifications.

Why, then, did he have the urge to stride across the room and take that fresh-faced, much-too-handsome-for-his-own-good worker by the scruff and plant a fist in his face? He could not possibly be… jealous?

He reared back, stunned. Jealous? What the devil?

He laughed, an almost unhinged sound, earning him more than one startled glance from the men about him.

There was no way in hell or on earth that he was jealous.

He was incapable of feeling jealousy, just as he was incapable of feeling most strong emotions.

He kept that part of himself in check, a hand he would never willingly show.

Proof that his heart had been petrified over the years to the point that those emotions no longer even existed in him. If they ever had in the first place.

Just then, however, Heloise leaned in closer to the worker, seemingly to impart something in confidence, and another surge of bitterness flooded him.

Without thinking, he took a step in their direction, his hands fisting at his sides.

To do what, he didn’t have a clue. All he knew was the deep, driving desire to separate the two with all haste.

Blessedly, Mr. Ferris stepped into his path, stopping him from doing God knew what.

“Good morning, Mr. Sinclaire,” he said, all jovial good will. Tucking a pencil behind his ear, he motioned to the floor, where the raised platform for the boxing match was quickly taking shape. “We’re ahead of schedule, and if things continue at this pace, we will be done with time to spare.”

“Good, good,” Ethan muttered, only half listening to the man, his gaze still firmly stuck to Heloise across the room. “But who is that youth with Mrs. Marlow? I don’t believe I’ve seen him before.”

Mr. Ferris followed his gaze. “Who, young Herbert there? He’s Mrs. Marlow’s cousin. She asked that he be hired on for the duration of the project.” The man shrugged. “He’s a bright lad, and though he’s inexperienced, I saw no harm in it.”

Heloise’s cousin? And just like that the tension drained from his body.

Which was all the more concerning, as it proved that his bitterness had indeed been jealousy.

Or, at least, it should be concerning. Instead, all he felt was a light kind of relief.

Dear God, he thought as Mr. Ferris touched a finger to his forelock and excused himself, what was wrong with him?

And why didn’t it concern him more? It was all too obvious that Heloise had somehow, someway managed to worm into his affections.

And then even that small concern dissipated a moment later as the woman herself, having bidden farewell to her cousin, spied him and smiled.

His insides melted. No, this isn’t right , some small voice whispered inside his brain. But then she made her way through the workers and equipment to him, and even that voice disappeared as quickly as it had come.

“Good morning,” she murmured when she reached him. She stood several feet from him, yet he could feel the heat of her across the space.

“Good morning,” he replied. “I trust you slept well.”

Her gaze turned heavy-lidded. Was it just him, or did she look at his lips? His mouth went dry.

“I probably should have.” Her eyes dropped to the floor, her fingers nervously playing with the folds of her gown.

“You did not?”

She laughed lightly. “Not a bit, I’m afraid.”

Why did that shy comment make his heart lurch? Mayhap it was the blush that rose to her cheeks, proof that her trouble sleeping had to do with one very particular reason. Which in turn made him think about that particular reason.

He swallowed hard. “Perhaps it would be better for you to return home, so you might rest properly.”

It was a half-hearted suggestion at best. One she blessedly refused.

“I’d much rather stay here,” she answered softly. Her gaze rose to his again. “If you’ve no objection.”

Heat flooded him at the husky tone in her voice, and he just stopped himself from groaning. Instead he took her hand and, not caring that they were surrounded by workmen, pulled her from the room.

He should have had the control to take her up to his office.

But control, in that moment, was one thing he sorely lacked.

Another thing he should have been concerned about.

After all, hadn’t his life been built on tightly leashed control?

Just then, however, all he could think about was having her in his arms. And so when he found an empty room, he pulled her through the open door, slamming it behind them before, pinning her to the wall, he crushed her mouth under his.

Whatever Heloise had been expecting from Ethan when she’d arrived at Dionysus that morning, it had certainly not been this.

Not that she was complaining. She had not been lying, after all, when she had told him that she had not slept well, nor had she been fooling him about the reason why.

During the long hours between her departure from the club last night and her arrival some half hour ago, not a second had gone by that she had not thought of being held in his arms. Blessedly she had not been forced to recount the events of the evening to any of the other Widows, busy as they had all been with their myriad parts to play.

Did she have to eventually let the others in on her success with Ethan?

Yes. But for some strange reason, she wanted to hold it close to her for the time being.

That was something she would not look at too closely.

Especially now, as he opened his mouth over hers as if he were starving and she were the one food in all the world he craved.

She welcomed his kiss with a greediness that surprised her, winding her arms about his neck, gripping tight to his hair.

Her body arched against his, remembering the bliss it had experienced at his hands and craving more of it.

How was it she had not been satisfied with that?

How could it possibly make her want even more with him?

But want more she did, her skin fairly sizzling with heat, that place between her legs aching until she could hardly stand it.

When he reached down and hitched her skirts up, grasping her thighs and hooking them about his lean hips, she whimpered into his mouth with need.

“Heloise,” he rasped as he kissed along her jaw to the sensitive spot just beneath her ear. “Can I take you?”

Why did her heart lurch at the desperate request? It had done the same the night before, when he had asked her permission. It made her feel cherished, respected.

But it was making it damned difficult for her to keep things in perspective. Not that she had managed to keep things in perspective thus far. No, she had lost all common sense the moment he’d dragged her here and kissed her.

But any chance of gaining control of her wildly spinning emotions was lost as he pressed his hardness against her. She gasped, wrapping her legs more fully about him. “Please, Ethan,” she managed.

The words had barely escaped her lips before his hand was between them. And then he was freeing himself and guiding himself into her, and the wonderful fullness of his member was filling her.

“Heloise,” he hissed against her neck, his breath hot on her skin as he seated himself to the hilt.

He stilled, panting heavily, fingers tight on her bare thighs, making Heloise all the more aware of the throbbing of his cock inside her and the deliciously vulnerable feel of being pressed between his massive body and the ungiving wall behind her.

Finally he began to move, a steady rocking.

Soft gasps fell from her lips, joined by low, desperate, almost feral sounds from his own, making her wilder, the ache at the center of her more acute.

She clung to his shoulders as his movements quickened, her entire universe centering on that place where their bodies joined.

And then his hand worked between them again.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he rasped in her ear, his fingers rubbing against her. And she did, breaking apart in his arms, his mouth quickly finding hers and swallowing her cries of completion.

The moment the last wave of pleasure finished, he pulled out of her, gently lowering her feet to the floor. Then he tore a handkerchief from his waistcoat and, his hand on the wall beside her and his forehead pressed to her shoulder, he finished himself off with a low, rumbling groan.