A Scandalous Deal

by Joanna Shupe

  She’d be damned if these three would see her beaten. Digging deep for strength, she came to her feet and straightened her skirts, brushing the dust as best she could. Then she pushed sweaty tendrils of hair off her face and attempted a smile.

  Phillip nearly skidded to a stop in front of her, his hands gripping her arms. “What on earth happened to you?”

  She pointed at the wooden shack. “Someone locked me in.”

  He jerked with surprise. “Locked you in?”

  Carew immediately strode around to the door, while Milliken moved behind Phillip, his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s bolted shut,” the engineer yelled from the side.

  “Good God.” Phillip’s shrewd gaze searched her face. “You could have died in there, considering the heat today.”

  “I’m fine. I dislodged a few of the slats and slipped out. Nothing to be concerned about.” She shot an apologetic glance at Carew. “I had to break your tripod and use one of its legs as a jimmy. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t go apologizing,” Carew immediately said. “If the tripod helped you escape then that’s what matters. It can be replaced.”

  Phillip’s chest heaved, an angry flush covering his neck. He spun on Milliken. “You will find the man responsible for this. I want him ferreted out and sent to me. Today.”

  “Sir, you know there’s not a man here who’ll admit to such a thing, knowing the consequences.” Milliken jerked his chin in Eva’s direction. “And you know how they feel about her.”

  Her. As if she weren’t standing right there. Still, Milliken was right. If they made a big deal over this, resentment would merely escalate. That was the last thing any of them needed. “Mr. Milliken is right. It’s unlikely we’ll learn the identity of the culprit and a witch hunt serves no purpose other than to brew discontent.”

  Milliken blinked as if he hadn’t expected her to agree with him, but Phillip’s scowl deepened. “I don’t give a damn. This type of behavior will not be tolerated on my job site. If I let this slide he’ll only try again.”

  She had to stop this. An investigation would not bode well for her relationship with the crew. “Phillip, please. I’m dirty and sweaty but none the worse for wear. Let’s all forget this happened.”

  Phillip’s nostrils flared slightly and she could see the indecision in his eyes. He faced Milliken once more. “Shut everything down for the day. Everyone goes home and no one gets paid . . . unless the man responsible comes forward.” He wrapped his fingers around Eva’s elbow. “Come with me, Miss Ashford.”

  “That was a mistake.”

  Phillip ignored Eva’s rebuke as his brougham slowed along Twenty-Fourth Street. They were the first words she’d spoken since leaving the construction site. She was clearly furious he hadn’t let the incident go, angry that he’d dragged her away in front of the men . . . but he would not apologize. He didn’t give a damn how the men felt about losing a day’s wages. Whoever was responsible for locking that door had better hope Phillip never found him alone in a dark alley.

  The wheels stopped in front of number Twenty-Two, an unassuming four-story brick building, and Phillip flipped open the brougham’s door. He descended, and then helped Eva down to the ground. “You needn’t stay,” he told his driver and shepherded her toward the front door. He withdrew a key from his jacket pocket.

  “What is this?” Her neck craned as she took in the façade. “Where are we?”

  He unlocked the front door and held it open. “Inside you go.”

  “Phillip, I’d really like to go home. I’m dirty and—”

  “Patience, my lady. Just trust me.” She entered, albeit unhappily, and he latched the door behind them. Taking her arm, he ushered her up the steps. “You wanted privacy. Privacy you shall have.”

  “You rented an apartment for us?”

  “No.” They turned at the first landing and he smiled down at her. “I bought the building.”

  “You . . . bought this entire building? Just to have a place for us to meet?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised. It’s a good investment. Area’s a bit rough now, but there’s talk of cleaning it up. The property should only climb in value in the next few years.”

  “It certainly appears well constructed,” she said, her gaze sweeping the walls and stairwell. “Who were the tenants?”

  “You’ll see.” He anticipated witnessing her reaction. The purchase had happened quickly so there hadn’t been time to remodel except to replace the bed frame and mattress. He had his priorities, after all.

  When Eva faltered on the final landing, Phillip reached down and lifted her in his arms. She clung to his neck. “Put me down. I can walk.”

  “I know, but I’d rather carry you.”

  She stopped complaining and put her head on his shoulder. He bounded up the remaining steps, set her on her feet, and opened the apartment door.

  He flicked the switch to turn on the electric as Eva stepped across the threshold. She gave a long whistle. “My, my. No mystery as to the identity of the former occupants. I do hope the girls weren’t too put out at their displacement.”

  A former brothel, the main room was papered a deep red color and had matching velvet furniture. Colored lights hung from the ceiling, a kaleidoscope of hues that bounced off the mirrors strategically placed at various points. Phillip dropped onto one of the sofas, where the men would have congregated to meet the various women of the house. “They were not, considering I compensated them quite handsomely. Do you like it?”

  She took it all in, her head swiveling this way and that. “It’s appalling. And yet oddly perfect.”

  “You haven’t seen the best part.” He rose, took her hand, and led her deeper into the apartments.

  “Let me guess. The bed.”

  He chuckled. “Second best, then.” Once through the dining room they entered the largest of the bathing suites. A huge tub sat in the center of the blue-and-white mosaic tiled floor, mirrors surrounding them from all sides. It was decadent and tawdry, a delicious find he meant to put to good use. Right this minute, in fact.

  She gasped. “This is . . . Men would actually pay to bathe in here with a woman?”

  He shrugged. “Of course.”

  He strode to the taps and turned them until water began spilling into the bottom of the enameled cast-iron tub. Then he poured a splash of the new bath oil he’d brought earlier into the water.

  “Wait, you don’t expect me to . . . In there?”

  “Why not? I’ve had the place thoroughly cleaned, including the tub. Wouldn’t you care to wash after being locked in that shed for God knows how long?”

  She bit her lip, staring at the water longingly. What was her hesitation?

  Crossing the room, he tucked an errant strand of red hair behind her ear. “Are you worried about the cleanliness of the tub, because I swear—”

  “No, I believe you if you say it’s been properly cleaned. However, it’s a bit decadent of me to lounge in a bath while you twiddle your thumbs, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Not if I am decadent with you.”

  “You mean . . .” Her brows jumped. “Oh.”

  Ah, his little innocent. How he loved corrupting her. He shrugged his coat off his shoulders and tossed it to the ground. Then loosened his necktie. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

  She watched his hands with rapt attention, a flush blooming along the neckline of her shirtwaist. “But I have no clean clothes to wear.”

  “Who said anything about requiring clothing?”

  Her lips curved and she reached to unfasten the strip of cloth around her waist. “This may be a terrible idea but I desire a bath too desperately to argue with you.”

  They both removed their clothing, piece by piece, eyes lingering on the other, until she needed help with her corset. Now bare-chested, Phillip unlaced her, and she let the heavy garment fall to the floor. From there, things progressed quickly until they were both completely naked.

  Not want
ing to embarrass her with his half-hard erection, he shut off the taps, stepped into the bath, and sank into the warm water. This had an added benefit in that it allowed him the perfect view of her entrance into the tub after she disrobed.

  Eva was glorious, all creamy skin and fiery hair. Full breasts with dusky nipples. Long legs and a slightly rounded stomach. Exquisitely female, like an Italian Renaissance painting come to life. His heart pounded, his tongue thick and dry with anticipation.

  “Wouldn’t a decent gentleman avert his eyes?” she asked as she stretched out on the opposite side, her legs brushing his under the surface of the water.

  “I suppose he would. I noticed you took your time, however. I think you enjoyed teasing me.”

  Her toes trailed along his calf. “You might be right.”

  “Shall I wash your hair?”

  “Fancy yourself a lady’s maid, do you?”

  “Just fancy getting my hands on you as rapidly as possible.”

  “You’ll have to wait until I am clean.” Water lapped the mounds of her breasts, drawing his eye. Christ, how he wanted this woman. His cock was already heavy and needy, even in the buoyant water.

  “I met a friend of yours the other night at Sherry’s,” he said, sliding his leg alongside hers.

  Eva’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. Was it Lady Nora?”

  So her friend hadn’t mentioned the conversation. Interesting. “Indeed, it was she. Charming woman, Lady Nora. Fiancé’s a good man, though he’s not really out on the town much these days.”

  “What did she say?” Eva leaned in, her teasing mood now gone. “If she said anything about me, you shouldn’t pay a lick of attention to it.”

  Now that was a curious comment. He wondered what about him Eva had shared with her friend. “And why shouldn’t I pay attention if it pertains to you?”

  “Did she say anything about me?”

  “Are you answering my question with another question?”

  “Yes. And I’ll keep doing so until you tell me what she said.”

  He wrapped a hand around her foot and began massaging her instep with his thumbs. She groaned and closed her eyes, reclining until her shoulders met the tub once more. “I was attending a dinner with a friend and her parents. Your Nora is worried I am playing a game with you, that I’m leading you on while I romance another woman.”

  Eva peered up at him through her lashes, her gaze intense. “And are you?”

  Ah. This came as no surprise to her. Had Eva been there that night as well? “Absolutely not. Miss Hall is merely a friend, though her parents might wish otherwise. There is no romance between us.”

  “I heard there are rumors. About the two of you.”

  “As I said, there are some who would approve of that match. Neither of us wishes for it, however.”

  “Good.”

  Her relief pleased him, a dark satisfaction of knowing she had been jealous, and he had to be completely honest with her. “However, we will be seeing more of one another in the upcoming weeks.”

  She blinked and sat up a bit straighter, her foot falling out of his grasp. “I don’t understand. I thought you said . . .”

  “I did. Miss Hall and I have a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

  “Another mutually beneficial arrangement?” She started to rise from the tub. “Good heavens. In just how many of these are you involved?”

  He yanked on her ankle, drawing her back into the water and across the tub. When she was within reach he lifted her atop him, so her legs straddled his waist. His cock was trapped under her heat, the pressure nearly driving him mad, yet through some miracle he retained his focus. He cradled her face in his palms. “Not that type of arrangement, Eva. You are the only woman with whom I am entertaining in such a manner. Just you.”

  “Ah.”

  “Do you believe me?”

  Her piercing gaze traveled his face, lingering on his eyes, searching for the truth. “Yes, I think I do.”

  “Good. Now, kiss me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  In the end, he did much more than kiss her.

  Large soapy hands swept over every inch of her with remarkable thoroughness, almost as if he were fastidious about cleanliness. Yet he wasn’t one of those men always in gloves and afraid of getting his hands dirty. No, he merely enjoyed the teasing—though her squirming and writhing on his lap elicited many gasps and groans from him in return. At least she hadn’t suffered alone.

  He took his time in washing her, stroking and caressing, talking quietly between kisses about the things he liked most about her. Places like the inside of her elbow . . . the skin of her wrist . . . a ticklish spot under her ribs . . . the slope of her collarbone . . . By the time he soaped and rinsed her hair, she ached with wanting, her pulse a steady beat between her legs.

  Just when she couldn’t take it any longer, he reached to stroke the slick, swollen heart of her, his fingers deft and steady. Two thick digits slipped inside her, his palm pressing on the bud at the top of her sex. “Rock your hips on my hand,” he told her. “Use my fingers to come.”

  She hardly knew what he meant but her body took over, chasing the bliss, each roll of her pelvis sending little shocks along to her toes. His mouth found her nipple, sucking and biting, the scrape of his teeth causing a quiver in her womb. She began a frenzy of nonsensical words, daft pleas and promises that spoke of urgency, as water sloshed out of the tub. Using his free hand, he pressed her hips down to create more friction and she detonated, her body convulsing as she cried out into his neck.

  When she stopped shaking, he lifted her from the water and stepped out of the tub. Droplets rained onto the tile as he continued toward the door, carrying her into another room where a huge four-poster bed awaited. He placed her onto the soft bedclothes, his body following to cover her.

  She sighed, the weight of him unexpectedly delicious, his crisp and silky body hair rubbing over her limbs, while wide shoulders blocked out the dying afternoon light. She wrapped her arms about his neck and dragged his mouth down, desperate to feel his lips on hers. Though his erection lay hard and insistent against her thigh, he kissed her thoroughly, sweetly, his hand cradling her jaw to keep her where he wanted, his tongue slick and hot against her own. He was an excellent kisser, the technique maddeningly mercurial, shifting between rough and gentle, demanding yet giving. She tried to keep up, to match him, but it proved impossible, her need obliterating all rational thought.

  His fingers found the wet heat between her legs once more and he circled her entrance until she canted her hips, seeking. He smiled against her mouth. “Anxious for more, are you?”

  He was too smug, too certain of his prowess . . . too male. So she pushed on his shoulder until he rolled onto his back. When she crawled on top of him he brushed the wet hair out of her face, saying, “I take it this means we are done with teasing.”

  “Not even close. I haven’t yet begun.”

  So she did as she pleased, trailing her fingertips along his jaw, his shoulders, over his ribs, feeling every peak and valley that made up his exemplary frame. She hadn’t had the opportunity the other night and she meant to commit the shape of him to memory.

  Lord above, the man was too perfect by half. When touching became not enough she dragged her lips over those spots, tasted the clean, rough skin. She quickly learned what caused him to groan, (a nip of her teeth on his throat), and what caused him to gasp (a brush of her tongue over his nipple). The lower she traveled the more restless he grew, his breath choppier.

  He froze when she kissed the flat of his stomach, and she wondered if he would stop her from continuing on. She’d studied enough drawings and paintings to be curious about using her mouth on him. Would he enjoy it?

  A few more kisses brought her mouth to the tip of his erection, lying stiffly against his belly. She swiped her tongue over the crown, hardly anything at all, yet his body jerked, nearly dislodging her.

  “Christ, Eva,” he rasped. “I hadn’t expected that.�
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  “Shall I continue?”

  “Oh, God. I may very well expire if you do.”

  Not an answer, not really, so she kept going. Perhaps this would shake his control and give her a bit of the upper hand. She licked the taut flesh, running the flat of her tongue down the silken skin of his shaft. His hands curled into the coverlet, the knuckles white with strain. She nearly smiled. A heady power, indeed.

  Sliding his erection in her mouth, she took in as much as was comfortable. Phillip hissed, his muscles clenching. She dragged her lips toward the tip, intent on doing it again.

  Instead, strong arms lifted her up. His face etched in stone, he rolled her underneath him and settled between her legs. Reaching between them, he lined up at her entrance and then pushed inside, slowly and steadily, the fit much easier this time around. She marveled at the difference, how her body bloomed and accepted him, widening and stretching, until he was fully seated.

  He paused, dropping his forehead to hers, supported on his elbows, both of their chests heaving. The fullness, the way she could feel him deep within her . . . it eased something, an emptiness she hadn’t realized existed. As if he unlocked a secret part of her, a part she’d never known about. It both thrilled and terrified her.

  They each began moving, working together, hips churning, and the pleasure took over. He palmed her breast and she clutched his buttock. He sank his teeth into her shoulder, she scratched his back. When she wrapped her legs about his waist, he started thrusting faster, harder, sweat building on his forehead as the bed frame creaked beneath them. “Oh, God. I cannot stop. It’s too good.”

  So, so good—but not quite enough. “More, Phillip. Please.”

  He groaned and claimed her mouth, his kiss wild and demanding as he continued to drive into her body with none of his earlier finesse—and she loved it. “Yes,” she breathed, her muscles drawing tight. She was so close, right there on the edge. “God, yes.”

  “Goddamn it, now, Eva.” He pushed up onto his hands, his hips churning, the slap of wet flesh filling the room, and she incinerated in a wash of heat and light, her inner muscles clamping around him, the crest taking her under like a wave.