The Temptation of Laura

by Rachel Brimble

  Adam smiled and stared at the creamy white column of her throat. “What is so funny?”

  She slapped her hand to her chest. “You’re more ambitious than I gave you credit for, Mr. Lacey. Where there’s a will, there’s a way, right? Bette would’ve absolutely come to love you.”

  He laughed. “You are not angry?”

  She swiped at her eyes. “Angry? I have no hold on you. No claim. You’re your own man, and don’t you ever let anyone tell you differently. As for wanting me in your bed . . .”

  His cock stirred as her laughter quieted and her eyes turned dark.

  “Let’s eat this delicious food Mr. Optimistic has served us and we’ll see what’s next on the menu, shall we?”

  Laura had no idea if it was damnable how liberating Adam’s moral failings were on her, but, by God, it was good to know he was equally as guilty of making foolhardy decisions. The thought he owed her any explanation was as flattering as it was ludicrous. Never in her life had a man given a damn what she thought of him—and now Adam cared. More than cared. He wanted her for the long-term as much as she did him.

  Hand in hand, they laughed and kissed, stopped and stared into each other’s eyes as they headed back to the tavern, as though it was to their honeymoon bed rather than a tryst for lovers posing as husband and wife.

  Adam pushed open the pub door and Laura struggled to wipe the smile from her lips as they wove between the patrons toward the staircase at the back of the saloon. She followed him up the steps, reveling in the stares that followed them. This time there wasn’t any turning her face to the wall. As far as anyone knew, they were husband and wife. She held her head high.

  This was no secret tryst. Nothing immoral or illegal. At least not to them. He slipped the key into the lock and pushed open the bedroom door. He turned and swept a low bow, his arm directed toward the room beyond.

  “After you, my lady.”

  She entered and turned to face him. Her heart pounded when he shoved the door closed and came toward her without finesse or decorum. She dropped her drawstring bag to the floor and he pushed her against the wall. Her breasts ached for him and her cunny throbbed. Had he read her mind that she wanted him to take her like this? Have her. Own her. Possess her.

  Fear, frustration, grief, and passion whirled inside as though her heart was an engine rather than a muscle. She needed this. She needed Adam. She needed to act on the all-encompassing liberty he’d given her by admitting his mistakes: that he’d succumbed to paid sex in no different a situation than she had.

  “Laura, Laura, Laura . . .” He whispered her name over her skin as he kissed her jaw, lower over the sensitive curve of her neck as he gripped her waist.

  She clung to his biceps, her nails digging into the hardened muscles. He claimed her mouth once more and she shamelessly teased his tongue with hers, softly then hard with intent. A low growl came from deep within and he tugged at the buttons lining the front of her dress. She fumbled her hands into his jacket, desperate to rid him of that and the shirt beneath, desperate to get to hot, taut skin.

  It was taking too long. Everything was cumbersome and in the way of what she needed. With her hands at his jaw, she eased him back and stared deep into his eyes. Unadulterated lust shone in their dark brown depths, frustration showed in the flush at his cheeks, and raw masculinity in the set line of his jaw.

  Pressing a violent kiss to his lips, she pulled back and yanked at the buttons of her dress. As it slid over her shoulders, his gaze never left hers. He kicked off his boots and tore off his jacket. Piece by piece, their clothing strewn around the room, their eyes flitted over every inch of skin the other revealed.

  At last only her chemise remained and she moved to lift it.

  “Wait.”

  Adam’s command halted her and the material slipped from her fingers and flowed back down her legs. She trembled and her harried breaths rasped against her chest. He walked toward her completely naked. Her gaze shot unashamedly to his cock and her body flushed hot from her scalp to her toes. Memories of their single time together crashed and burned inside her heart and mind. She ached for him to push his entire length inside her over and over.

  “Adam . . .”

  He came so close not a whisper of air passed between them. He gently kissed her before lifting her roughly into his arms. She wrapped her arms about his neck as he carried her to the bed and laid her down. Laura trembled as her control diminished and Adam’s took over. Domination and determination shone in his eyes. The joy of a man wanting to make love to her with strength and passion, rather than with payment and degradation, filled Laura with hope for a happier future.

  She sensed he was laid as bare as she as liberty emanated from deep inside him too. This was Adam. Her Adam. He lay down beside her. There was no act or pretense; this was raw, open, and beautiful.

  He shimmied down her body. Second by unbearable second, he glided her chemise up to her waist and drew her drawers down her legs and over her feet. Slowly, carefully, he eased her legs apart, and Laura swallowed to feel his warm breath blow against her wetness.

  Anticipation hurried her breathing, and her breasts rose and fell from the blessed torture. His lips and tongue followed his breath. She squeezed her eyes shut. Wave after wave of sexual yearning rolled through every pore, every cell of her blood as he tasted, teased, and licked her into a frenzy. She writhed beneath him, eventually reaching blindly forward to grip her fingers into his hair. Wantonly, she raised her hips, wanting more.

  Did he have any idea what it meant that he knew what she’d done time and again with strangers, yet he still wanted his mouth on her? Love for him burned like fire around her heart.

  “Adam, quickly. I’m so close.”

  Another taste, another gentle circling of his tongue and she opened her eyes as his breath left her. He crawled up the bed, covering her body with his. Broad, hard, and irresistible, he stared into her eyes as he nestled between her open legs.

  His cock brushed against her pubic hair and clitoris before he pushed deep inside. Pleasure sighed from her lips to have him fill her at last. Together they moved, thrust for thrust, riding the wave, their eyes locked, their bodies growing slick with perspiration. On and on, their joined breathing became the only sound filling the room. Higher and higher he took her; deeper and deeper he burrowed into her heart.

  As he picked up speed, Laura surrendered to the crash she sensed coming and raised her legs to lock them around his waist. She took him as deep as she could and together, the world came alive around them.

  The lights, the noise, their joined shouts belonged not in the rented room of a tavern, but on love’s grand stage. With a final cry . . . Laura came home.

  Chapter 21

  When Adam slipped his hand in hers outside The Adelphi, Laura exhaled a happy sigh. The play had been magnificent, the costumes and scenery even more so. Words had failed her throughout the production, despite Adam’s whispered observations and frequent encouraging squeezes of her hand.

  Now he pulled her into his arms and she stared at his handsome, smiling face. She laughed. “Look at you.”

  His smile widened. “What?”

  “You look positively elated. Anyone would think you have a soft spot for the theater.”

  “Very droll, Miss Robinson. Very droll.” He pressed his lips to hers for a moment before pulling back. “Well? What do you think? Could we not provide as equally good a performance?”

  “Of course . . .” She grimaced as self-doubt twisted inside her.

  “Sometime during nineteen ten maybe.”

  He frowned. “Why would you say that? You can do everything those actresses did and more.”

  She eased from his arms and looped her hand into the crook of his elbow. They walked. “I can’t imagine how I’ll ever be as good as those actresses. They were marvelous. All of them. Even the ones playing the smaller roles.”

  He stopped. “We have been here five days. You have to start believing you can act. S
oon there will be far too many people only too willing to tell you otherwise. You have to have immeasurable self-belief to succeed in this business.”

  She sighed. “I know all my lines, all my actions, yet—”

  “Yet, nothing. You are phenomenal.”

  Laura stared deep into his eyes. They shone with hope and excitement. She longed to believe what he was saying, but things like this—dreams of the biggest spectrum—just didn’t happen to the likes of her. “We’ve barely stepped out of our room all week and rehearsing isn’t enough. Believe me, there’s nowhere else I want to be than working with you, eating with you . . . making love with you.” She smiled. “But we have to be realistic.”

  His gaze wandered over her face and lingered at her lips.

  Apprehension caused her heart to pick up speed. She needed to tell him about the baby she was now certain she carried. By her calculations, she’d entered her second menstrual cycle, which meant her playing the role of Lucinda was impossible since she’d be showing in just a few weeks. She swallowed. “Maybe you should at least consider someone else for Lucinda.”

  He frowned. “Why would I? It is you I want. It was always you.”

  “Things change and things happen. I can’t read. It’s taking so much longer for me to learn the lines than someone who could pick up that script and not struggle with every letter. I’m not saying I don’t want to do it, I just want you to . . . have a reserve in mind.”

  He smiled. “Always thinking of others, aren’t you? Well, I am sorry, on this occasion only you will do.” He briefly kissed her lips.

  Heat warmed her cheeks. “And how are we for money? Surely our funds are getting low? Maybe we should start thinking about seeking other work until—”

  “There is no need.”

  The tenderness in her breasts seemed to heighten, and the intolerance of her morning tea came back and rose bitter in her throat. “There’s every need. I’m not saying I’m losing faith in the play, but—”

  “With the boards beneath your feet and the light on your hair . . .” He fingered a curl at the side of her cheek. “My words on your tongue, all this doubt will disappear.”

  Her stomach knotted with further anxiety, despite the intoxication of his endless enthusiasm. “Please don’t make me feel I’m the only one worrying what we’ll do tomorrow or next week. Living with Bette, eking out a living for this past year, hasn’t been a pleasant place to be. I don’t want things to get worse than they were before she died. I owe it to her to get out and grab a better future.”

  “You are.”

  “I might not be doing what I did before, but I’m still not earning a wage. A moral wage.”

  “But you will.” He brought his finger to her chin. “You will be outstanding. Trust me. Please.”

  She swallowed and looked away into the distance. The alluring shade of his deep dark eyes was more than she could stand. She had to be stronger than this. She had to make him understand her need for independence. In the months to come, she would have a baby to care for, another mouth to feed, and it would be negligent to run headlong into a fantasy with the man of her dreams—no matter how powerful the temptation.

  “I love the way you are, but it’s too much, too soon.” She forced her gaze to his. “The circumstances of my life have stripped any optimism away and left just enough for me to believe better things come to those who work hard and pave the way. I’ll wait for the break, but in the meantime, I need to earn my own money.”

  His ensuing silence bore down on her until Laura didn’t know what else to do but lift onto her tiptoes and kiss him long and hard. Immediately, her body caught alight in the flame of her attraction. His deep sincerity to provide her with hope, ambition, possibility, and love was so beautiful, yet entirely too dangerous to rely upon. God, how she wished Bette were there to help guide her along this treacherous path.

  Tears burned and she squeezed her eyes tighter and kissed him deeper. She’d already lost Bette. She’d escaped danger by Adam ensuring Baxter’s arrest. She couldn’t lose Adam . . . and never their baby.

  They parted and she squeezed his hands in determination. “If we find work, we can put some money aside so we have resources to fall back on while we find an investor or director. Please. I’m not used to relying on others this way.”

  His jaw tightened. “I am not others. I will look after you.”

  Foreboding skittered up her spine and her innate fortitude whispered through her. She shook her head. “That’s not enough. I’m sorry.” A cruel pain slashed across her heart and she pulled her hands from his to hold them tightly around the strings of her bag. “It’s been Bette and me forever. You can’t expect my way of thinking to change overnight. I need to know I have money of my own. I need to work.”

  Their eyes locked as people brushed past, separating around them. A human boulder that had taken root in the middle of a busy thoroughfare. The buildings pressed in and the night sky came lower until Laura’s pulse beat relentlessly at her temple.

  He pulled back his shoulders before offering her his arm. “Let’s walk.”

  She hesitated before exhaling and returning her hand into the crook of his elbow. As they continued forward, the tension grew. Her old persona rose up and burned hot behind her ribcage. She fought the need to yank him to a stop and demand he listen to her, tell him she didn’t need his care. Her independence was paramount.

  Tears clogged her throat. They were so very different.

  The silence grew and she focused on soaking up every moment of London’s atmosphere. She inhaled its scent, strained her ears to its sounds, and opened her eyes wide to its sights. Who was to say how long this would last? Who was to say their differences wouldn’t soon part them when their dream shattered into a million pieces and they were startled wide awake?

  Adam cleared his throat. “Now I know how you truly feel, I can tell you my good news.”

  She glanced at him. “What?”

  “I have found a director who loves my play. He wants to see us both for a test run of a scene or two tomorrow.”

  Laura halted and stared at his set profile. Words danced on her tongue and her heart soared with hope. She opened her mouth and closed it. Opened it again, only to snap it closed a second time.

  He turned, his smile wide. “If you are not doing anything, of course.”

  “Why would you . . . why did you let me say all those things?” She made to lunge for him.

  Laughing, he caught her by the waist and swung her around, heedless to the stares of the passersby or the leering calls of a group of young boys leaning against a wall behind them.

  “Because I care about you. I want you to share every worry, concern, or hesitation you have. Always.”

  She stared at him. “When have you had time to see anyone? We’ve been working so hard.”

  “A couple of days ago when you took an afternoon nap, I wandered to a pub not far from Drury Lane where I used to go when I worked in London. I asked around and they gave me this director’s name who is trying, as we are, to break in to the industry. He has money, but no one willing to take a risk with him.”

  “And he said yes?”

  He grinned. “He said yes.”

  Laura’s heart beat hard. “Are you telling the truth? You’re not grasping at anything to stop me from pursuing a job? I couldn’t bear it if you felt the need to do that, Adam. This is who I am.”

  “I admit I want to provide so you do nothing all day but act, but I would not lie. I did not say anything before because it is important to me I know how you feel”—he pressed a hand to her chest—“in here.”

  Laura blinked against her tears as her impending pregnancy preyed once more on her mind. “Oh, Adam. You shouldn’t have put me through that.”

  “I should. We have to be honest with each other.” He smiled. “This is it. I have got a good feeling about this man. He read my entire play in two days. Felt he knew Lucinda without even seeing you. I am confident you will speak one l
ine and he will be putty in our hands.”

  A frisson of trepidation simmered inside. Sooner or later, she’d have no choice but to thrust inevitable disappointment on him. “He wants to see us tomorrow?”

  He grinned. “Tomorrow.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “You say, ‘Adam, get me back to our room quick. Ravish me and make me cry out your name, or so help me God, I will not attend that meeting tomorrow.’”

  Laura forced a smile and lifted her eyebrow. “That is not what I had in mind at all to say.”

  He lifted his shoulders. “I understand. Say not another word. Your wishes are my command.”

  “Adam Lacey, you are incorrigible.”

  “And I’m a damn stallion in bed, I know.” He grasped her hand.

  He took off as if fire were at his feet and Laura had no choice but to follow—all the while resisting the need to swipe at the tears of apprehension that refused to cease.

  Adam banged his fist against the director’s front door for the third time in as many minutes. Where the hell was he? Humiliation threatened as Laura’s skirts shuffled behind him.

  “Adam, he’s not here. We’ll have to go.”

  “The hell we will.” He banged on the door again. “Open up, Conrad. I demand to see you. It has been a week since our missed appointment. You will not do this.”

  His heart raced and his gut churned. They had been duped. His words stolen. Anger wound his stomach tight and pain shot like an arrow through his head from temple to temple. Intellectually, he knew the man would not remember every line, every action, but damn if the scoundrel would forget the essence of his beloved play. How would he sleep at night knowing his play might appear onstage one day, another claiming its originality?

  He raised his fist once more, but Laura grasped his wrist. “Adam, no. Let’s just leave. He’s gone.”

  “I can’t. I can’t leave without seeing his face.” He moved to bang on the door again when a window opened above them. He looked up.