He employed his fork and knife enthusiastically, praising the crispness of the potatoes and the juiciness of her pork chop. She thought her gravy was too salty, but he didn’t complain. Her attempts at small talk were ignored as he ate at a rapid pace. He finished every bite of the meat, even what she had left on her plate, then pushed back from the table with a happy sigh.
“That will have me back in fighting condition,” he said. “Thank you.”
“Where are you going?” Since she’d only worked a half day, she wasn’t exhausted. “We should see a film or something.”
He yawned. “Oh, I don’t think so. Not tonight.”
“I looked through your records. We could dance.”
“Darling,” he protested. “I’m a wounded man.”
“Not too wounded to tramp about with Robbie all day.” As she stared at him, irritated, his expression changed. Even his body seemed to soften.
He walked toward her and slid his arms around her waist. “Sadie, darling, am I neglecting you? Relax, I’ll help you do the dishes and then we’ll put a record on. Happy?”
She smiled, glad he did want to spend time with her. “Perfectly.”
* * *
Les attempted to discreetly stretch his calves as he dried the dishes. He’d chased Konstantin or whoever it was through the bowels of the Grand Russe and into a hatchway leading into an old construction tunnel. After an hour, he’d lost him. There had been too many choices of hatchways and he’d found the wrong one. He’d come up from underground near the Hyde Park Corner Metro entrance, amazed that he’d been below so long, and had called Detective Inspector Dent at the first telephone box he found. He’d spent the rest of the day walking the area around the hotel, watching for suspicious activity, but now that he knew about the tunnels, he realized Konstantin was moving into the hotel through them, not through the actual hotel entrances.
He knew the next day would be full of meetings of higher-ups between the Service and Special Branch, trying to decide what to do about this new development. Was Sadie, or any other employee, safe in the hotel? He knew the basement would be swept clean of weapons caches. Where would Konstantin hide next?
His fingers slid along the still soapy rim of a serving platter and he dropped it. He bent down just as Sadie did the same and grabbed for the platter. He fumbled it and Sadie caught the other edge. They bumped heads as it slid through her fingers as well, but they were low enough to the ground by then that it didn’t crack as it hit the rug protecting the linoleum in front of the sink.
Les’s thigh spasmed and he sat abruptly. Sadie collapsed next to him and rubbed her forehead. “Sorry about that,” he said.
“I didn’t rinse the soap properly,” she admitted.
He rubbed her forehead. “I didn’t mean to wreak my revenge on your poor head.”
She moved her head back and forth against his hand, like a cat. The poor girl was desperate for affection and he was afraid to give her any. For all his attempts to remain aloof, the closeness of her to him, all night, every night, just a wall’s length away from him, drove him wild and made it hard to sleep. Just for the asking, he could have this luscious, curvy female in his bed. If only he was a very slightly less honorable man.
The muscles in his thigh twitched again. He grabbed at it, kneading the muscles.
“What’s wrong?”
“Too much exercise.”
“Let me.” Her slightly damp hands moved to his thigh, leaving wet marks on his trousers as she dug surprisingly strong fingers into his muscles.
“Mmmm.” He let his head fall back against a cupboard as she soothed his muscle.
“Sit on your bum,” she instructed. “You aren’t helping anything by crouching.”
He complied, stretching out his legs. Her head was bent underneath his, and he could smell the chamomile she must have used to rinse her hair. How innocent was she? The position she was in could easily lead to other things, although he’d indicated he was too beat up to think of any of that.
But, he wasn’t. As the fire left his leg, warmth spread to other parts of his body. And with her in the position she was, he couldn’t hide the evidence of how he felt. He stared at her neck, the soft down on the back of the smooth skin, and couldn’t help himself. He lowered his lips a scant inch and kissed her there, then nuzzled his nose into her hair.
When she didn’t protest, he wrapped his arms around her waist. She turned, her face against his chest, and crawled into his lap until they were face-to-face.
“What?” he asked.
“This.” She cupped his cheeks with her hands and kissed him, very sweetly.
He was long past sweet. Her lips were closed. He licked along them, tasting the coffee they’d had after their meal. When she parted, he swept in, taking her with harsh possessiveness. He could feel the heat of her body against his chest. Blood pumped into his erection. He took one of her hands from his cheeks and pulled it down his chest. Her mouth pulled away from his as he pressed her hand against him. She’d moved her head far enough away from him that he could see the surprise in her big blue eyes.
“Do you know what this is?” he asked harshly.
“Your man part.”
“I’m aching for you, Sadie.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means in this moment, I feel like I’m going to die if I don’t touch you.”
Her tongue darted out, kitten-like. She licked the corner of her mouth. “On the kitchen floor?”
“I don’t care where we are.” He felt like his cock would break if he didn’t adjust himself. To hell with it. She thought she was his wife. He undid his trousers and righted his rock-hard appendage.
Her eyes went wide when she saw him peeking out of the top of his trousers.
“Sorry,” he said, tucking his shirt back in.
Her gaze had gone fiery. She pushed his shirt out of the way. “No, I want to see.” She stroked the slit in his head, then pushed his trousers and drawers out of the way as she slid her hand down the length.
“Sadie,” he protested.
“You have hair there too, just like I do.” She grinned at him. “I always visualized my wedding night, with me in a white gown, on the bed, in the dark, not being able to see anything.”
“Then what?” he rasped. She was still stroking him, up and down, lightly. The sensation wasn’t getting him off but it was making him crazy, these feather-light strokes. Sensual, maddening.
“Then my husband would get into bed next to me. I don’t know what he would be wearing. Gently, he’d pull up my gown, and come to kneel between my legs.” Her voice caught and she squeezed the head of his cock.
His head fell back, his throat dry with passion. “Go on.”
She squeezed him again. “The fabric would be around my waist and he’d lower himself over me, the weight of my husband pressing me into the mattress.”
“Oh?”
“My fingers are wet.”
“That’s normal, darling.”
She rubbed her fingers around his head, then slid her fingers down again with more pressure this time. “You’d kiss my neck, I mean, my husband. Like you did the back of my neck.”
“You like your neck being kissed?” Each word felt like a boulder being spit from his mouth. The back of his head touched the cupboard. His eyes closed.
“Yes. It’s nice.” Her fingers slid back up. She squeezed him again.
He could feel it coming, his complete surrender to her touch. His hips jerked. So much, so little, human contact, it didn’t matter. “Oh, Sadie.”
“What?”
“Don’t stop,” He groaned, moving against her hand, wantonly intent. When he stiffened and lost himself, she stilled her hand despite his command. He grabbed her hand with his own and forced her to keep moving along his length until he’d stopped coming. Sweaty, panting, he barely noticed her standing, finding the kitchen towel, wiping her hand.
When she knelt next to him, he said, “Had you ever d
one that before?”
She shook her head. “Of course not. I wasn’t that naughty of a girl. I didn’t even know to do that.”
He smiled, his eyes still closed. “The things you learn.”
“You seemed to enjoy that quite a lot.”
“Indeed.”
She put her hand on his chest. “Does it feel as good as that looked when you make love?”
He opened his eyes. “Better, Sadie, even better.”
“Was this the thing that men do to themselves?”
“Men certainly can. Women too. Haven’t you ever given yourself pleasure?”
“I’m a vicar’s granddaughter,” she said piously. “I wouldn’t know how.”
“I’ll teach you, but not here.” He put his hand on the rug to start levering himself up, and felt crumbs crunch against his fingers. “Somewhere cleaner.”
She looked nervous. “I’m sorry, I haven’t had much time.”
“No, darling, you aren’t the maid here. We need to get help for you.” He closed his eyes for a moment, knowing he’d opened the window to the usual. “The Thursday girl, maybe more.”
“All we need to do is have me leave my position,” she argued. “I can’t make more than help would cost us here. It’s not like before the war.”
“I want you to make friends,” he said. “Enough about that, darling. Trust me.”
She harrumphed. “Now what? You look sleepy.”
He fastened his trousers and stood, then offered his hand to help her up. “It’s a side effect of completion. Very relaxing.”
“You do seem relaxed,” she agreed. “Now what? Would you like a bath?”
“Sadie.” He chuckled. “I can’t leave you unsatisfied. Come into the bedroom with me. You should learn your own body.”
“We’re going to have our wedding night?” Her voice had an endearing tremble.
He smiled. “We’re going to start. Let’s do the things we might have done while we were engaged, if life had been a little different.”
Her brows came together. “I know about petting.”
He chuckled. “Isn’t that what you just did, saying you’d never done it before?”
“I mean, I know what men hope for.”
He put his arms around her. “Don’t you hope for it, too? Don’t you feel the longing to be touched?”
She didn’t speak, but her adorable little tongue darted out again to touch the corner of her mouth. He was learning her signals.
“Good girls can speak about these things when they are wives,” he said.
“I’m a very new wife,” she whispered. “And not very much of one.”
“That’s not true.” He gathered her close and kissed the top of her head.
“I love you, you know,” she said in the same small voice, as if trying to reassure herself.
He closed his eyes and breathed in her chamomile scent. Her love was an illusion; she didn’t really know him. Unfortunately, his entire life was like that. But even a spy needed comfort sometimes.
“I’ll do anything to make you happy.” She tilted her head to meet his eyes.
The spy part of him instantly became suspicious. Why was she trying so hard? Did she have secrets of her own? He shook his head a little. He needed to stay in the moment with her, and cement their relationship. Her goal would be the same. She didn’t know the wedding had been a farce. Of course, she was merely trying to make their marriage real. She’d committed the rest of her life to him, for better or worse. He didn’t think vicars’ granddaughters took to divorce very easily.
Silence could be dangerous. He had to respond, but he couldn’t tell her he loved her. No matter the circumstance, he had to save some things for his private life, his future, to the extent he had one. He took Sadie’s hand and kissed it. “Come along, Mrs. Rake. Let’s go downstairs.”
They stood and he put his arm around her waist, guiding her downstairs. He didn’t really want to take her into his bedroom, though he had intended to do just that. But at the last instant, he opened the door of the guest room and ushered her in, even though the bed was small. It was best not to fall asleep with her. What might make him justify making love to her in the wee hours? It wouldn’t take much. A cold night, an erection, and a soft, scented, willing female.
“I wish I had something proper to wear,” she said, turning to him. “Something enticing.”
He found a match and lit the candles in a pair of brass candlesticks that were on a tall, narrow chest he kept miscellaneous items in, like spare bullets. She stayed by the door. The room seemed very small and he felt nervous and relaxed at the same time.
“Have you ever let a man take your clothes off?”
She shook her head, throwing shadows on the wall.
He stepped forward. “Have you ever let a man touch your breasts?”
Her voice was tremulous. “I’m not going to ask you those questions. Anything that happened was before we met.”
He smiled. “Oh, Sadie, I’m not worried. I just want to know where to begin.”
“Oh. Well, I’m glad you know what to do.”
He gathered she’d let someone touch her breasts, but only clothed. So she’d been a bit adventurous for a vicar’s granddaughter. “Sit down on the bed.”
She did as he asked, making the mattress squeak. He liked that she was neat. Her bed was made, and what little clothing and possessions she owned were folded away somewhere. In fact, there was nothing really of her in the room at all. For some reason, this made him sad. A woman ought to have things around her. Had being orphaned and having to live with her grandparents made her feel like she never really belonged anywhere?
“What is your favorite color?” he asked.
“Orange.”
He winced. “Why?”
“It’s cheerful. I had an afghan my mother knit for me when I was a little girl. Orange and brown stripes. It fell completely apart a couple of years ago, but I slept with it for years.”
“Do you knit? You could make one.”
“It wouldn’t be the same.”
He knelt at her feet and unbuckled her shoes. “Your feet are like icicles.”
“It’s still January.”
He squeezed her narrow feet in his hands then began to massage them, trying to bring warmth to her extremities. “I think you should definitely knit us some afghans, even if they aren’t orange and brown.”
“What colors would you like?”
“Green and blue, maybe.”
She tilted her head. “That would be nice. I can’t knit as fast as my grandmother could, but I could have a couple finished before spring. It would be nice to knit while we listen to the radio. What would you do?”
Sharpen his knives. Clean his guns. “Read, I suppose. I like to read Russian newspapers to keep my language skills up.”
“Will you teach me Russian?”
He chuckled and squeezed her feet again. They seemed slightly warmer already. “No. It’s not a pretty tongue.”
“Say something.”
“Privet, Sadie.”
“What is that?”
“Just hello.” He abandoned her feet and stroked her ankles. “Vy shchekotki?”
“That was a question,” she announced. “What?”
He moved his fingers up her calves, feather-light. “Are you ticklish?”
“Oh,” she breathed.
“What is the answer?” He let his fingers drift back down her calves, then moved to her shins.
“I’m not going to tell you,” she said, as he reached the backs of her knees. She shuddered and tried to pull away.
“Got you.” He chuckled and took off her garters, then rolled down her ivory stockings while she was distracted.
“See, you aren’t so very old-fashioned. If you were, your stockings would be black.”
“I haven’t worn black stockings since I was fifteen,” she scoffed. “Even in Bagshot.”
He pushed her skirt up to mid-thigh and kissed the tops o
f her legs. She inhaled sharply but didn’t protest. While he refused to allow himself the right to take the ultimate liberty with her sweet young body, he didn’t see what would be wrong with giving her pleasure. He inched her skirt up more, until he could feel the heat between her legs and smell the scent of her arousal. His cock went hard again, as if she’d never given him completion, and his hand trembled as it moved straight to the top of her knickers. She lifted her hips to let him pull them down, breathing hard.
“Shhh,” he crooned. “You’ll like this, I promise.”
“Of c-c-course,” she stuttered. “It’s our wedding night.”
He closed his eyes tightly when she said it, but could still feel her under his fingers, and the scent of her sex filled his nostrils. No, he couldn’t stop now. She deserved the same pleasure she’d given him. He tugged her forward. The back of her head slid down the wall as she gave herself completely over to him. When she was flat on the bed, he stroked his hands up the insides of her thighs until the flickering candlelight danced over the curls just above her legs. He kissed her there, then slid his fingers over her soft maiden lips. She was so wet, and her thighs were trembling.
“Sweet Sadie,” he murmured, then kissed those soft, scented lips before parting them and setting to the work of, if not taking her virginity, at least making her aware of the power of her own body to bring her pleasure.
She didn’t last long. Untutored but eager, she was easy to arouse. While a more experienced woman might need a more thorough approach, she only needed soft strokes, kisses, the touch of his tongue against her. When he put his hands on her bottom and pulled her taut against him, she moved against him and cried out, then softly wrapped her arms around the back of his head. He moved his mouth to her thigh and rested.
When her shaking had stopped, he leaned back on his heels and put his hands on his thighs. His erection wanted attention, but he knew he needed to stop. Her sweet taste and compliance made him even more aware of how easy it would be to abuse her trust. Without saying a word, he went into the bathroom to have a cold wash.
I Wanna Be Loved by You Page 14