I switch off the light and trudge back down to the second floor, feeling thoroughly ashamed of how hot-headed I’ve been. Not sure that I should hide in my room, I remain at the top of the main staircase, hoping Blair will come by and just know from the look on my face that I’m sorry. I’m still irritated that I don’t know anything about him, but this kind of behaviour isn’t me. It’s crazy, stalker-like behaviour.
I’m not sure how much time passes before I hear footsteps coming from below, but when I do hear them, I don’t try to flee. There’s no running away now.
He rounds the corner, sees me, and freezes momentarily. Grabbing onto the bannister, he looks down at his feet as if suffering from an attack of vertigo. There are a dozen steps between us. It feels like too much and too little distance at the same time.
‘I didn’t mean to scare you,’ I say.
He exhales and looks up. ‘You don’t mean to do a lot of things.’
He must know I’m sorry. I didn’t think it possible for someone to be able to read me so easily after knowing me for such a short period of time, but he did tell me the other day that I’m a cinch to read.
‘True.’
He holds something up in his hand. ‘You left your phone on the dining room table, by the way.’
‘Thank you.’ I extend my hand, expecting him to come up, but it quickly becomes clear that he’s not willing to do that. ‘Don’t tell me I have to literally meet you halfway.’
I’m resigned, not angry now, and the feeling is apparently mutual.
‘Ah, we couldn’t have that now, could we?’
I smile ruefully. ‘I sense sarcasm.’
‘Yes, m’lady.’
He walks up to where I am and hands me my phone, and though I expect him to leave me be, he surprises me by sitting down right next to me. He’s so close we’re practically touching. The wool of his suit brushes against my bare arm and my skin responds to its prickles. I could lean into him right now, rest my head on his shoulder, and run my fingers over his cheek.
He turns to face me. ‘You didn’t find anything, did you?’
‘You are too close to me right now.’ Reluctant to actually push him away, I lean against the wall as much as I can, placing the phone at my feet.
‘I don’t know why you’re frightened. You’re the only one who can make a move.’
I give him a sidelong look. ‘Now is not the time to be smug. I’m moody, remember?’
‘Yes, I’ve noticed.’
He really is too close. I can smell his aftershave, and another scent too. Lemon, I think. It could be from the fish and chips, or perhaps it’s artificial, from the washing-up liquid.
‘So, this is how we operate? Embarrassment, argument then truce. Over and over?’
‘You’ll be distracted from Thursday onwards. We’ll be okay after that.’
It might be my imagination, but there’s disappointment to his tone.
‘Thursday?’
He uses my own words against me. ‘Come on now. Don’t act dumb. Tilton & Bree.’
‘Ah yes.’ I pause, thinking about the men Polly has supposedly lined up for me. ‘Me dating will fix everything.’
Blair suddenly becomes interested in his waistcoat buttons, fiddling idly with them. ‘Yes, no need to pay me any attention.’
‘You sound upset.’
‘I’m not.’
I relax a little, not putting so much pressure on the wall. ‘If you’re going to play with your buttons, at least do up the bottom one.’
‘The last button of a butler’s waistcoat is always left open. It’s something that started with Prince Albert. He was too fat to fasten the last button, and it became fashionable, eventually becoming a dress standard for butlers.’
‘Tradition, huh?’
Probably self-conscious now, he drops his hands and rests them on his thighs. ‘Some things don’t change.’
‘Yes, well, I’m not sure that Thursday will change anything. I heard what you said about honesty being counterproductive or whatever, but I feel I have to tell you that.’
His response is swift. ‘No, the matchmaker will remind you of your priorities. You’re looking for a rich husband for life, not a penniless butler to fuck. Do you know how much money I have in the bank? Twenty-two pounds. Given, payday is around the corner, but it’s twenty-two pounds nonetheless. There you go, I just told you something about myself.’
‘I’m sorry to hear you’re in a tight spot.’ Twenty-two pounds really is nothing. I spent more than double that on lunch.
‘At least it’ll serve to remind you of who you’re meant to be chasing. Certainly not the likes of me.’
‘Ah.’ I tilt my head in his direction and pretend to be enthused. ‘Thanks for telling me what I’m looking for.’
He smirks in return. ‘I am, after all, the help.’
‘Right. And sitting inches from me helps, does it?’
‘I’m testing you. You’re passing, so far.’
Testing me? How ridiculous. ‘I’ve already thought about kissing you, you know.’
‘But you haven’t.’
He speaks of my restraint as if it’s some kind of victory, a sign of progress, but it doesn’t feel that way to me.
I sigh. ‘Deter me with more truths. Tell me something else about yourself. Tell me where I’ve seen you before.’
‘You haven’t seen me before.’
‘Yes, I have. And so has Abby.’
He shrugs. ‘I don’t know what to say. You’re both mistaken.’
‘So twenty-two pounds is all you’ll tell me?’
‘That’s a pretty big thing to admit, at least, it is in my book. Does my financial state not move you at all?’
Not wanting to seem indifferent, I shift a little more in his direction so I can face him better. My knee knocks his thigh, and I raise my hands in innocence, a reflex that makes the contact a bigger deal than it is. Blair rolls his eyes at the overreaction, but I’m left wondering if he’s thinking along the same lines as me, imagining what it would be like to have our legs tangled together in bed.
No, maybe that’s just me.
I lower my hands and try to remember what is was I wanted to say. ‘Forgive me, but I don’t think pitying you will help us get along any better. So you’re down on your luck. It happens.’
‘It happens, but you’ll never understand it.’ He doesn’t continue until I look him square in the eye. ‘You have no idea. Austerity for you is only buying one luxury item instead of five.’
I bristle at his pointed words. ‘It’s hardly fair to peg me as out-of-touch just because I have money.’
Blair shakes his head. ‘Sounds like something a Tory would say.’
‘Don’t make this political. Even Labour knows the limits of bringing up class warfare as a subject. It hasn’t energised their base in years.’
‘That may change.’
‘Or it may not.’
‘Well, not if your lot has their way.’
‘Tell your comrades to bloody vote then.’
‘Oh, don’t use the word “comrades”. The first time we met, you mentioned something about the aristocracy not being what it used to be. The thing is, I think you’re all exactly the same. It’s just that society changed and left you behind.’
‘And you think I don’t already know that? Before you jump on that soapbox of yours, it may help to check your audience.’
He’s a little sheepish now, ducking his head and curling his fingers under his palms. ‘Sorry, I thought we were just chatting.’
‘Well, given the subject matter, I can’t exactly tell you to be quiet without sounding like a snob. You very well know that.’ I sigh and lean forward, resting my chin on my hand. ‘Plus, it’s going to sound hypocritical if I say you’re out of line – today, anyway.’
‘Hmm.’
There’s a lull in the conversation, giving me a chance to calm down. In the meantime, Blair shifts so he can lean on the bannister, putting a bit of dista
nce between us. I end up staring at the gap it creates, wishing it would close up of its own accord.
I also wish I had the strength to send Blair back to work. Sadly, I’m enjoying his presence. The bickering and its subtext are more exciting than not being around him at all.
‘Perhaps I should get back to work,’ he says after a minute or so.
I straighten up. ‘Is there even anything to do right now?’
‘Not really, to be honest.’
It occurs to me that I could assign him a task, like ask for dessert or something. However, there’s no point creating work just for the sake of it.
‘Take some time off. Return to duty when you have to pick up my mother.’
He laughs, and it’s bitter, which catches me off guard given our moment of relative civility. ‘Be off duty around you? I don’t think so.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mr Baxter.’ I mutter the next part under my breath. ‘Arse.’
‘I meant me, Emilia. Just in case I forget you’re off limits.’
‘Oh.’
I can’t tear my eyes from him after that. Finally, he’s given me some confirmation that this isn’t a one-sided attraction. It’s not just all me.
Damn it. Now I have serious butterflies, and my knees are beyond weak. Take any cliché about how a woman feels when the man she fancies confesses he feels the same way, and multiply it by ten. That’s how utterly slayed I feel. It’s the type of feeling you hear about and wish would happen to you but, now that I’ve experienced it, I naturally end up realising how inappropriate the feeling is in this situation.
Instead of feeling empowered, I now feel weak, like I’m the idiot confusing lust with genuine affection. I hate to say it, but I feel like such a girl – a silly teenage girl – and that makes me angry with myself.
Under my intense stare, Blair seems uneasy, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but at me while he drums his fingers on his thigh. ‘Anyway, I should go.’
I hold up my hand. ‘Wait.’
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Why am I not telling him to leave? Walking away is the sensible thing to do, and I should let him do it, especially now that I’m confused and pissed off.
He seems just as conflicted, the softness in his eyes making me think he wants to stay. ‘Is there something you needed?’
A cold shower is what I need. My friends tell me about this sort of thing, where a man suddenly crops up and blinds you. Blair is the butler and I’ve only known him for two weeks, yet I’m so infatuated with him that I can’t even breathe when I think about him.
I make a demand of him. ‘Tell me you don’t want me.’
He turns towards me so that he has his back to the bannister, his brow knitting. ‘Sorry?’
‘Tell me you don’t want me. I can’t deal with you wanting me. I thought I wanted you to admit it, but now… No, you need to take it back before I… Before…’ I ball my hands into fists, like I seriously have to contain my panic.
‘Okay –’
I cut him off, my temper getting the better of me. ‘It’s like you were put here to torture me. It’s so cruel.’ Before I can stop myself, I’m shuffling toward him, narrowing the gap between us. His eyes flash with panic, but there’s something receptive about his alertness, something that tells me he won’t stop me if I make a move.
I want to make a move.
I shift so that I’m facing him side on. Blair sits up, likely sensing this is no joke. I’m not teasing. This time, I don’t care that our legs are touching. I scoot even closer, not feeling guilty in the slightest when he clenches his jaw and levels a glare at me.
‘Don’t come any closer. I won’t be able to resist.’
I almost laugh. ‘You think I don’t know that?’
‘Then why take advantage?’
‘Don’t put this all on me. I hate it when men act like there’s nothing they can do when a woman hits on them.’
I poke him in the chest, but he immediately grabs my hand, erasing any sense of victory. I shiver from the contact but make no attempt to pull away. We stare each other down, this contest the most intense by far.
‘You shouldn’t provoke me.’ He eases his grip on my hand but pulls me closer. ‘Though maybe you can’t help yourself.’
I lean in, almost slipping from the awkward positioning. I’m in serious danger of doing something stupid. ‘I think you and I are beyond help.’ I bite my lip. ‘Why are you my butler? You, of all men in the world?’
Blair inches a fraction closer, and now our foreheads are almost touching. ‘Tough luck, I suppose.’
I lose myself in his blue eyes, praying he’s as foolish as I am. ‘Please stop me.’
He squeezes my hand before releasing it, and then speaks to me in a tone so husky that goose bumps break out across my skin. ‘Sorry, m’lady. I’m not interested in stopping you.’
Before reason can kick in, I lean in even further to close the remainder of the distance, with Blair – true to his word – making no move to resist my advance. I plant my lips on his and place a hand on the back of his neck, allowing myself to give in.
I hardly know this man. He haunts me, makes me feel things I shouldn’t. But the last bastion of my resolve quickly disappears when he weaves his fingers through my hair, and deepens the kiss. He pushes his tongue past my lips and makes me moan for him. This is what I wanted from day one, to have him make me feel good. The longer the kiss lasts, the more of him I need.
I’m unbalanced, sliding off the edge of the stair. Blair steadies me by placing a hand on my waist, but I tumble to the side anyway, forcing me to break the kiss. I open my eyes and move my hand down in time to break the fall, but in the end I collapse onto my back, my backside on the edge of the landing.
I lift my head and prop myself up with my elbows, still giddy from the kiss. ‘If you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll never forgive you.’
The hunger in his eyes is unmistakable – it’s the kind of unadulterated lust every woman wants to the see from the man they covet. It’s wrong that I’m encouraging him, but if he doesn’t care, then I can’t bring myself to care either.
I can’t not have him.
Chapter 9:
Seven months of chastity and two weeks of pure frustration are about to be obliterated. I splay my legs, eager to get on with it, while Blair clambers between them to kneel on the third step down. The way he removes his suit jacket, swiftly tossing it aside before unbuckling his belt, confirms his own desperate need. He pushes my dress up to my waist, taking the opportunity to run his hand up my thigh. The skin-on-skin contact feels unbelievable but when he reaches my knickers and roughly pulls them down, my arousal goes into overdrive – the knowledge that he’ll soon be inside me is too much to fathom. He tosses the knickers over his shoulder, the primal look in his eyes almost frightening now that I’m wet and on display for him. My breathing catches in anticipation.
It’s a damning scene: the butler and me on the stairs, his jacket in a heap, and my discarded underwear to the side.
Neither of us utters a single word. Blair removes his cufflinks and rolls up his sleeves like a man who knows he’s about to about to get his hands dirty. Rushing now, he takes off his waistcoat and loosens his tie, undoing his top button while he’s at it. There’s something so sexy about this. Always one to prepare, to finish a job thoroughly, his next task will finally be me. I don’t even need him to fully undress to get turned on, but nothing compares to what follows these delicious preparations. He keeps his eyes trained on me as he drops his trousers and lets his cock spring free, his damn shirt getting in the way of a full viewing.
I don’t need to see it all, though. What I really need is to feel him.
I try not to openly gape, but can’t help the flush of desire spreading across my skin. ‘Promise me you won’t leave me wanting.’
He snorts. ‘Lady Emilia, I wouldn’t worry about that. Why don’t you lie back down like a good girl and let me handle this?’ he
says smugly.
I gasp as he pushes my dress up and takes hold of my hips, pulling me towards him with such vigour that it’s difficult to think he ever resisted this. As I wrap my legs loosely around his waist, a part of me screams that I should stop this, but all I’m interested in is him making me scream.
‘You might want to drop the formalities considering what we’re about to do.’
He’s not having any of it. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him smile as widely as he does now, clearly enjoying his power over me. ‘Lie back down, m’lady. And for once in your life, try not to talk back.’
I huff, not exactly impressed, but any ire I feel is instantly erased when he slowly guides himself into me. The moment is completely surreal – the type of event you know will change everything. I’m left gasping from the way he’s stretched me. Blair is a reward I know I don’t deserve but will take anyway.
I moan deeply as he takes his first few thrusts, tightening my legs around him to get better friction. ‘Oh, fuck.’
He, too, is overwhelmed, grunting as if savouring the moment. ‘Like that, m’lady?’
I can’t even say anything. I try to brace myself by holding onto the landing’s edge, but Blair pulls me towards him again, slamming into me. Our situations have reversed. He’s the boss and I am the willing servant, taking his punishment and his pleasures in equal measure.
‘You didn’t answer me.’
When I still don’t reply, he thrusts again, hitting me so deeply I cry out from the delicious discomfort. He repeats the forceful action twice, as if my silence means I didn’t feel anything the first few times.
Finally, I manage to say one single word: ‘More.’
I close my eyes in bliss, trying to writhe against him in a way that matches Blair’s even rhythm as he picks up the pace. Apparently not satisfied with the tilt of the position, he grabs hold of my arse and lifts me a fraction higher. The improved angle ensures he rubs against me in the best possible way.
He groans in approval. ‘Oh, you’re so wet, so hot, so... ’
Lady: Impossible Page 13