When You Wish Upon a Rogue--A Debutante Diaries Novel

by Anna Bennett

  Her heart fluttered like it might fly away. “Abridged or not, your ideas have merit.”

  He suddenly rolled onto his side, propped himself on one elbow, and looked at her with an intensity that curled her toes. “I want this, Sophie, but only if you want it too. If all we have is tonight, then I’ll take tonight. I just need you to say the word.”

  She thought briefly about her family and Lord Singleton. She thought about her friends and the Debutante Underground. She even thought a little about Miss Haywinkle and all the cautionary tales the headmistress had shared.

  And then, she decided she was tired of thinking about all those people, all those things. She was tired of thinking, period. Because she knew what she felt for Reese, and she knew what she wanted for herself.

  She wanted him.

  “Yes,” she said, brushing a lock of hair off his forehead. “Yes to breaking our rules. Yes to seizing a night that is just for us.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth before he reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. The pressure of his hand made her feel like she was wrapped in a warm blanket and, at the same time, like she was about to dive headfirst off a cliff. Her whole body tingled, and she knew her world would never be quite the same.

  Holding Reese’s hand felt as momentous, as irreversible, as crossing the River Styx. Each of their souls was forever changed, and no matter what happened after that, they’d always belong to each other.

  He raised her hand and reverently pressed his lips to the back of it, sending a chill through her arm. “I knew it,” he murmured, his dark eyes glowing with desire. “Your skin tastes like honeysuckle.”

  She wriggled closer to him and tipped her forehead to his. “You mentioned something about deep, hot kisses.”

  Instantly, he slanted his lips across hers and groaned into her mouth. His tongue traced the seam of her lips and teased them apart. He pressed her onto her back and eased one leg between hers as he plundered her mouth and fisted his hands in her hair.

  She was tumbling, falling, soaring.

  Touching Reese was everything she’d hoped and feared it would be. But if she’d known it would feel so devastatingly exhilarating—so incredibly right—she never would have been able to resist him these past few weeks.

  This kiss, primal and fierce, was far outside the realm of anything she’d felt before, but she refused to let inexperience hinder her. Using passion as her guide, she kissed him back, kissed him with everything in her heart.

  She tangled her tongue with his and arched her body against his chest. She let her hands explore the smooth, muscled planes of his back and clung to his strong, broad shoulders when the heat thrumming in her veins threatened to overwhelm her.

  “Tell me I’m not dreaming, Soph,” he murmured against her neck. “Tell me I’m really holding and kissing you.”

  She speared her fingers through his hair and sighed as he slid a hand down her spine and cupped her bottom, pulling her closer. “This is no dream,” she whispered close to his ear. “It’s better.”

  Her words seemed to unleash something inside him, and he kissed her harder, held her tighter—as if afraid she’d slip through his fingers at any moment. She soothed him, running her hands over impossibly hard biceps and wrapping a leg around his.

  Breathless, he lifted his head and gazed down at her, his eyes full of affection and wonder. “I don’t deserve you,” he said. “But God help me, I can’t resist you.”

  “Do you want to know what I think?” she said, loving the slightly drunk expression on his handsome face.

  He nipped at her ear. “Always.”

  “I think we both deserve—and need—this. I feel like a seedling that’s lain dormant all winter. You were the sun I needed to make me fully alive.”

  “You are the sun, Sophie. You’re everything that’s good and true in my life.” He stared at her like he was tattooing her picture on his heart. Then, he slowly slid a hand up her side, over her nightgown, grazing the side of her breast. She held her breath, waiting as his palm drifted over her shoulder and down her back. Inch by inch, he skimmed his large, warm hand up her rib cage, tenderly caressing the underside of her breast and circling the nipple till it pebbled beneath the silk of her nightgown.

  With a smug smile, he lowered his head and drew the tip into his mouth. A little cry escaped her throat as he suckled her through the thin fabric. When he paused to blow on her taut nipple, she arched her back, demanding his mouth once more.

  He’d touched her breasts before with the peony, but this … this was a million times more intense. Exponentially better. The pleasure he wrought swept through her body like a summer storm—powerful, wet, and wild.

  But even the thin barrier of her nightgown proved ridiculously vexing. Wanting nothing between them, she tugged on the drawstring at her neckline. Reese murmured his approval, but when the knot stuck, he growled and proceeded to tear the gown down the front, all the way through the hem.

  Deliberately, with something akin to awe, he parted the ripped fabric and let his eyes rake over her body, lingering on her breasts, hips, and legs. Deliciously cool air kissed her skin as she sat and shrugged her arms out of the nightgown’s remnants.

  “You’re so beautiful, Sophie,” he said, his voice balancing on the edge of ecstasy and anguish.

  She felt her skin flush as she basked in the glow of his hungry, appreciative gaze.

  But there was plenty for her to appreciate too. His hair hung low across his forehead, giving him a wicked, dangerous air. His tanned chest glistened in the flickering light of the candle, and his muscular arms rivaled any blacksmith’s. The bedsheets were slung low across his narrow hips, and the ridges of his abdomen made her mouth go dry.

  Shamelessly, she stared at him, admiring everything from his stubbled jaw to his muscled chest, to the fuzz beneath his navel.

  And that was when she noticed the very obvious, very large bulge beneath the sheets that covered his lower half. Thanks to The Debutante’s Revenge, she knew something of a man’s anatomy … but this wasn’t some hypothetical man she was reading about in the pages of the London Hearsay.

  This was Reese. And she thrilled in the knowledge—the irrefutable evidence—that he desired her as much as she desired him.

  “You’re beautiful too,” she breathed. “And I want to see all of you.”

  Chapter 21

  Reese sat up without taking his eyes off Sophie. The house could have been on fire, the walls crumbling around him, and he still wouldn’t have looked away. Hell, he didn’t even want to blink for fear she’d disappear from view.

  Her luminous skin glowed in the dim candlelight, and her hair hung in thick golden waves around her shoulders. She was everything he’d known she’d be—passionate, daring, trusting. Now, as she sat beside him, she was eyeing his body with naked appreciation—and asking to see more of him.

  “I’m not wearing anything under this sheet,” he warned.

  “I’m not deterred in the slightest,” she said with a sultry smile. She probably wasn’t aware that she licked her kiss-swollen lips, but the sight made him even harder than he already was.

  “You can see as much of me as you want, Soph. Nothing is off-limits.” He waved a hand at the sheet covering his lower half in an unspoken invitation, then let his arms drop to his sides.

  The corners of her mouth curled into another smile as she moved closer and boldly smoothed her hands over his chest. A bit more tentative, she pressed her lips to his shoulder, nipping it lightly. But then her mouth, perfectly wet and warm, drifted lower. She tasted his skin and murmured her approval. Her hands roamed down his sides and low across his abdomen, making his cock twitch in anticipation.

  At last, she reached for the sheet and slowly pulled it off him, tossing it to the end of the bed without a second glance. All her attention was focused on his hard length, and she stared with a mix of wonder and curiosity. “May I touch you?” she asked.

  “Nothing is off
-limits,” he repeated—but he did worry that one touch from her would make him lose control. So he fisted the sheets and braced himself. For the most exquisite form of torture imaginable.

  She placed a hand on his thigh at first, then slid it up his shaft and over the head. He shuddered with pleasure and restraint.

  Her forehead creased. “Have I hurt you?”

  Shooting her a wry smile, he said, “You could never hurt me.”

  She leaned into him, nuzzling his neck and sliding her palm over his abdomen. “Show me how to touch you,” she said. “Show me what pleases you.”

  “That’s easy, Soph. Everything you do pleases me.”

  “You know what I mean,” she said, impatient.

  He did know and was more than happy to show her.

  Before long, she was kissing the crook of his neck and eagerly taking him in her hand, stroking with just the right rhythm, just the right amount of pressure to drive him wild. His ears began to buzz and fireworks flashed behind his eyelids. His breathing turned ragged and his muscles tensed. “Sophie,” he gasped, reaching for her hand. “Wait.”

  She stilled and snuggled against his side while he caught his breath and attempted to regain control. He had to think clearly, damn it.

  If he and Sophie only had one night together, he needed to make it special. So that she’d know, somehow, what she meant to him. So that years from now, she wouldn’t have any regrets about what they’d done. And maybe, when she thought about him, she’d smile.

  “Do you remember the night we met?” he murmured against her hair.

  “When you accused me of breaking and entering the tailor’s shop?” she teased.

  “I think I knew the moment that you walked through that door that you’d turn my world upside down.”

  She arched a knowing brow at him. “Your world was already upside-down.”

  “That’s true.” He grinned as he laid her back on the mattress, then braced himself above her, his arms on either side of her shoulders. “But you shook it up even more. Since I met you, my head’s been spinning … in the best possible way.”

  She reached up and cupped his cheek in her palm, brushing his lips with the pad of her thumb. “You have a similar effect on me, Reese. I’m going to miss you more than you know.”

  A lump lodged in his throat. “I’m here now, and so are you. If you ever miss me, I want you to think of this.” With deliberate tenderness, he lowered his head and took her mouth, pouring everything he felt for her—emotions he couldn’t even name—into his kiss.

  When they were both a little breathless, he paused and looked deep into her eyes. “Or, if you like, you could think of this.” He moved lower and kissed a trail down her neck and over her breasts, teasing the hardened tips with his tongue.

  “No danger of me forgetting,” she rasped, arching her back toward him. “I never knew I could feel this way—so dizzy and alive and free. It’s like swimming naked in the lake … but better.”

  Chuckling, he slid even lower. Her skin tasted like nectar, pure and sweet. He kissed and licked his way down her belly, over her hip, and around her thigh, stopping short when she drew in a sharp breath.

  “Reese?” She looked down at him, her heavy-lidded eyes clouded with confusion.

  “I want to taste you,” he said, rubbing his cheek against the impossibly soft skin of her inner thigh. “In the worst way. But only if you want me to.”

  * * *

  “Oh.” Sophie felt her cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and desire—but mostly desire. “I trust you,” she said firmly. “And if anything makes me uncomfortable, I’ll let you know.”

  “Good.” Reese’s voice vibrated through her like a purr. “Because I think you’re going to like this.”

  Good heavens. His touch was sure and gentle, his mouth warm and wet. He seemed to know how to apply just the right amount of pressure in precisely the right spot. Though it took her a minute or two to relax, she soon surrendered to the exquisite sensations he ignited inside her.

  He nudged her legs farther apart and grabbed her hips, holding her like he’d never let her go. His mouth and tongue teased her mercilessly, and a lovely, insistent pulsing began to echo in her core. The feeling was so intense that she might have pulled away, but then Reese reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. “Stay with me,” he murmured, renewing his efforts with an enthusiasm that humbled and enthralled her.

  Every wicked flick of his tongue and brush of his lips carried her higher, lifted her closer to the sun. Her belly tightened, her breath caught, and, suddenly, she was floating. Drifting through the air like a dandelion seed, blissfully light and free.

  He held her all the while, ensuring she drew out every ounce of pleasure to be had. And when her body was deliciously sated and limp, he lay beside her and pulled her close, trailing his fingertips over her back in light, soothing strokes.

  “You were right,” she said with a smile. “I did like that.”

  He shot her a wicked grin. “So did I.”

  She nuzzled his neck, kissing his warm, salty skin. Never had she felt so close to someone, so safe, so … loved.

  With a contented sigh, she reached between their bodies and curled her fingers around his smooth, hard length. A low groan escaped his lips, and she swallowed it, kissing him with all the fervor in her soul.

  She found the rhythm he liked and stroked him till his eyes closed and sweat beaded on his brow. Knowing he was hovering on the edge, she gave a long, slow caress from the base of his shaft all the way to the top.

  “Soph,” he said raggedly. “I can’t…”

  “Yes, you can,” she whispered, increasing the pace and pressure. She continued stroking as she lowered her head to his chest and ran her tongue over a flat nipple.

  Stifling a curse, he placed his hand over hers and tensed as he climaxed, pulsing, hot, and wet in her palm. For several seconds, they lay together without moving. Her cheek rested on his chest, and his heart beat wildly. “You are amazing,” he said, looking at her with awe and affection.

  “I think it’s more accurate to say that we’re amazing,” she said. “Together.”

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Wait here. I’ll fetch a wet towel.”

  When he returned to the bed, they laughed as they took turns washing and drying each other. And when they grew chilly, they snuggled beneath the sheets, her back to his chest.

  While she lay there, Sophie wished for the impossible—to be able to fall asleep like that every night, with Reese’s strong arms around her and his breath blowing softly in her hair. If circumstances had been different, it might have happened. She might have felt beautiful and sated and loved forever.

  But her fate had been determined before she ever set eyes on Reese, long before she’d fallen in love with him. Tomorrow, she’d have to say goodbye, but at least she’d had one perfect night—and she’d always be grateful for that.

  Chapter 22

  Sophie awoke the next morning tangled in sheets that still smelled like Reese—only, he wasn’t there. She sat up and found him on the other side of the room, sitting at his desk, his expression sober. “Good morning,” he said.

  She rubbed her eyes and blinked at him. He wore trousers but was still gloriously naked from the waist up. “Good morning,” she said, stretching. “What are you doing over there?”

  He held up a small stack of envelopes, then tapped them on the surface of the desk.

  “Trying to summon the nerve to open these.”

  “I see,” she said, suppressing the shiver that stole over her skin. She pulled the sheet from the bed, wrapped it around her torso, and padded across the room. Leaning her bottom on the edge of the desk, she said, “You don’t have to tell me about them if you don’t want to. But if you do want to talk, I’m listening.”

  He dragged a hand down his face. “They’re from Conroy’s widow. The first one arrived a couple of months ago, and … I still can’t bring myself to read it.
”

  “Why not?” she asked, even though she had some idea.

  His face turned a shade paler. “What if she asks questions I can’t”—he swallowed—“or don’t want to answer? What if every word she writes is full of pain?”

  Sophie’s heart ached for him. “You’re grieving for Conroy, just as she is. It might bring you a measure of comfort to talk to someone who knew him well and misses him as you do.”

  Reese shook his head. “That’s just it. I was his friend and can hardly bear the loss. His wife must feel that tenfold—and I’m partly responsible.”

  “No,” she reminded him. “You’re not.” But she understood his reluctance to read the letters, which would undoubtedly hold up a mirror to his own suffering. “Would it help if I read one of them first?”

  He shook his head again, slowly. “I need to do this myself. That much I know.”

  She moved behind him, leaned her chest against his back, and circled her arms around his neck, savoring the physical intimacy that was still so new and heady. “You should read them before I go. That way you won’t be alone.”

  “No. I’ll read them after you leave,” he said, a bit curt. “I’ve burdened you enough. I just wanted you to know that I’m not going to run from this anymore.”

  “You’re not burdening me, Reese.” She wanted to be someone he could count on. Someone he could share everything with. But now, just when they were on the brink of understanding each other, their time had run out. “I want to know what you’re going through and help if I can. Even if we can’t be together anymore.”

  “I won’t subject you to more of my problems,” he said flatly. “You are moving on to a new chapter in your life, and that’s … as it should be. But I will say this: If you’re ever in trouble, you know where to find me.”

  Sophie’s eyes stung with unshed tears and she glanced at the clock on the mantel, desperate to make the hands stop moving. In less than an hour, she’d be in the hackney cab on her way to Fiona’s house. And if she ever saw Reese again, it would likely be from a distance or in a crowd of people. She’d never have him to herself again. Not like this.