Page 20 of When Jess Wainwright’s Curiosity Was Satisfied (Wainwright Sisters #4)

Chapter Twenty

T he next morning, Cadoc didn’t want to rouse from dreams of her. She’d haunted him all night, and letting go of the promise of holding her through the velvet darkness of all the nights of his life felt like letting go of something he didn’t think he had a right to hold or pin down.

Only the strong bitter taste of coffee against his tongue and the knowledge his sister and niece and nephew were returning that day, moved him to rise.

When the children wrapped their arms around his waist, he cherished the clasp of their hands at his sides.

Caris watched him with soft eyes. “What has changed, brother? You are not the same as you were when we left.”

He shook his head, silently telling her he’d share his turmoil later. Over whisky before the fireplace in the library. She nodded in response, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “It gladdens my heart to see you emerge from the shadows, Cadoc,” she whispered.

He stepped back, so she wouldn’t see how her words filled him with fragile hope.

“Shall we go to the evening service tonight?”

Caris watched him closely. “The evening service?”

“The vicar and his sister have been ill, and there was no service last week. He’s scheduled a sermon today and I’d like to go with you and the children.”

Her eyes filled with wonder. “She’s the one changing you. Yes, we’ll accompany you - I want to see the changes she’s wrought for myself.”

Cadoc ducked his head and ignored her joyful smile. His dragonfly, because he couldn’t stomach the thought of her belonging to anyone but him, had changed him. And he didn’t know the depth of the change or who he would become without her by his side. He wanted to lose himself in her. Not just her touch and the way she felt pressed against him, but the way sunset caught the hazel gleam of her eyes and the way she held herself still when she was trying to hold onto her dignity. Not just the gasp of surrender she’d made, sweet and low when she’d found her release against his mouth, but the animation and intelligence written all over her face when she spoke of teaching and her infernal bugs.

The service did not unfold as expected. A flurry the likes of which the parish had never seen enveloped it. The congregation was halfway through the second song when the organist threw her hands in the air and left her bench. She stalked toward the vicar, whispering furiously, her finger arrowed in accusation. It was obvious to all that she didn’t agree with the song selection. She was making her distaste and exasperation abundantly evident and Cadoc suspected he wasn’t the only one who began to think the disagreement was perhaps about more than the song choice. The vicar’s eyes widened and he threw up his hands in an attempt to halt the woman’s tirade. His lips were moving, but whatever he was saying was inaudible to the congregation. If he was attempting to pacify her, Cadoc mused, he was failing miserably. The vicar was relatively new to the parish, and it was his first assignment and the organist was a buxom widow with a mind and hearth of her own. There was clearly something unfolding between them.

Cadoc had known the moment Jess and her sisters had slid onto the bench directly behind him, and his entire body had tingled with sharp awareness at her closeness. He decided to take advantage of the chaos and turn around so he could steal a look at her. When he did, she met his gaze, and pushed past her sisters with muttered apologies. They all gave her indulgent looks and shooed her in his direction as he stood and made his way to her.

Once they were a few feet apart, he wasted no time. “Come,” he said, and pulled her along behind him when she slipped her hand into his.

He dragged her behind the vestibule wing, and only halted once they were ensconced in the vicar’s study and he’d closed the door.

“Why do you have such an affinity for cramped, darkened spaces?” She groused.

“Because nooks and crannies protect us from discovery. But this is neither cramped, nor dark,” he said as he lit one of the kerosene lamps and pressed her against the edge of the sturdy desk.

“We are in a church full of people and you just pulled me away for all to see. Could you be any less conspicuous?”

“No one noticed. They’re enthralled by the fight between the vicar and the organist. If they did notice, they’ll assume we’re talking about something that has to do with the school. And you didn’t have to take my hand, dragonfly,” he told her, his voice full of affection.

“Let me guess,” she said as she tapped a finger against his chest. “All you could think about was how much of a distraction their argument was, and how suited it was to your unorthodox intentions.”

“There’s no need for feigned anger, Jess. This is your chance to win back another lens.”

“There’s only one more. And then you have to hand over the microscope itself,” she smugly informed him.

“You’re very confident of your ability to resist my kisses,” he said as he looked down at her. “Is that all you want? The chance to win back another lens?”

Her gaze never wavered. “Perhaps I want more.”

Her confidence set him even more on edge and he pulled her toward him. “I have a confession,” he whispered into her ear.

“Another one?” She said with her sudden breathlessness. “You gave me more than a handful of them last night.”

“Are you keeping a record?”

“No. Perhaps I grow weary of hearing them. Perhaps I would rather you put your mouth to better use.”

“I’ve dreamt of you drenching my fingers and flooding my mouth. Dreamt of the taste of you as you fall apart beneath my teeth and tongue. Just as you did last night.”

“I have a confession as well,” she informed him in a sultry tone.

“I hope it’s a naughty one. Let’s hear it, dragonfly.”

“Only if you tell me why you call me that. Is it because I draw them?”

His breath went still at the question and he didn’t know if he could answer it truthfully.

“That’s part of it, yes. I’ll tell you the rest some other time,” he finally confessed.

“I want to know if you think of me when you’re alone.”

“I think of you all the time, not just when I’m alone.”

“What happens when you think of me?”

He took her hand and pressed it over the swell of his erection. “This is what happens,” he growled.

“Do you tend it? Or do you just box the imaginary foe in your workshop until it goes away?”

“What do you know about tending it?”

He watched her cheeks flame, but she didn’t back down. “Doesn’t it cause you pain if you don’t take care of it?”

He chuckled darkly. “How do you know about blue balls and their effect, dragonfly?”

“Is that what you call them? Do they actually turn blue?”

“Mine have never done so, and I hope they never do. I take myself in hand when attention is required. Now. Enough questions.”

She gave him an arch look, but slid her hand behind his neck. “Now that my curiosity has been satisfied on so many levels, resisting you should be easier than slicing pie.”

“I don’t think I’m the only one who’s overconfident in my abilities,” he murmured.

“I’ll never fathom why you believe yourself so irresistible,” she murmured back.

“I don’t think I’m irresistible,” he confessed. “At least not to everyone. But I am to you, just as you are to me. Because we both feel this thing between us.”

“This thing?” She asked with a mischievous smile and dropped her other hand to his waist. “This thing?” She repeated, and stroked the length of him behind his trousers.

He bucked against her touch, all of his senses suddenly alive. “You’re playing with fire, dragonfly,” he warned.

“Not if I’m the only one who holds the matches, miner,” she said as she dropped to her knees in front of him.

Her eyes shone and she licked her bottom lip as she stared at the way he was reacting to her presence. She slid a single finger along his waistband. “There were other illustrations in the books Arie showed us.”

“Other illustrations?” He asked, his voice strangled and hoarse.

“Yes,” she said with a purr. “Other illustrations. Illustrations of things I’ve thought about doing to you. Illustrations of things I think will make you beg for your relief against my tongue and my mercy.”

Cadoc closed his eyes. If she was proposing what he thought she was proposing, he didn’t trust himself to hold onto even the barest vestige of control. He looked down at her, and his breath caught in his chest. Her eyes were more green than gold, and her lips were the dusty pink of the sunset and all he could think about with every atom of his being was what her face would look like when she took his cock in her mouth. “Do it, dragonfly,” he entreated. “Make me beg.”

She stroked his length through the fabric again, her eyes a trifle hazy on his. “I don’t know if I should. I don’t think you’ll be able to remain silent. There’ll be no shouting or groaning. We wouldn’t want to arouse more suspicion than we already have.”

Her teasing would be the death of him. He held her gaze as he unbuttoned the placket of his trousers and shoved them to his hips. His arousal rose strong and proud between them and he watched as she licked her lips again. He barely stifled his groan.

“Show me how you want to be touched,” she commanded.

His hips bucked toward her of their own accord as all the dreams he’d kept buried from the night before flooded him. Cadoc set his hand to his cock and gave it a tight, firm stroke from root to tip. Her eyes glazed even further and she sighed.

“Just like that,” she said.

He stroked it again and she leaned forward so he rested against her mouth. When her tongue emerged from her parted lips and she licked around the head of his cock, he surged again and groaned.

“I said you have to be quiet,” she remonstrated as those dusty pink lips wrapped around him.

He lifted a fist to his own mouth and bit down on his knuckles as he tangled his other hand in her hair to hold her fast to him.

“Mmmm,” she throatily exhaled, and he felt the vibration of her approval all along the length of his throbbing shaft.

Cadoc looked down at her again, her mouth full of his cock, and her eyes on his full of wicked intent, and he surrendered to the sweet suction as she drew him against the roof of her mouth. In that moment, Cadoc knew he was lost and there was no turning back. The knowledge of how wholly he was hers was like an inescapable anvil that weighed him down as he thrust into the warm cavern she offered him.

“I think it is I who will emerge the victor, this time,” she said as she leaned away before she took him again.