Edmund had to admire the man for his loyalty. With Abby pinned to his side, Edmund slipped out the exit, onto the elevator and down the corridor to the room he had reserved for the night. The space, a king suite with a private kitchen and sitting area, reminded him more of his flat in London.
The management had spared no expense in welcoming him. A bowl of fruit sat on the fireplace mantel and the bursting fragrance of flowers enveloped the space as he made his way to the bed.
She felt good in his arms, soft and supple. On her quiet exhales, the smell of Kahlua rose stronger than the vodka. As he bent down to lay her across the sumptuous burgundy and gold bedspread, she moaned in protest, but fell back into silent slumber. Edmund sauntered back, settling down into a high-backed chair to watch her sleep.
After his first call from Will inquiring about where he was, Edmund silenced his phone and ignored the dozen or so vibrations coming from his pocket at ten-minute intervals.
To occupy his time, he wandered into the in-suite kitchen and began cutting up some fruit from his complimentary basket. From a recipe he’d read somewhere, he squeezed a lime, a lemon, and an orange into a glass of seltzer, and topped it with a cherry and some mint. He stood back and admired the concoction afterward, proud that he’d created something so much better than Timmons’ god-awful, poisonous green slime.
Just as he placed the fizzing drink on the nightstand beside Abby’s head, she began to stir.
“Edmund?” Her confused voice prompted him to wait for her to determine where she was and why. When she shifted up and pressed her hands against her temples, he sat down beside her, the bubbly concoction in his hand.
“Here, drink this.”
With her eyelids half closed, she felt for the offering. “What is it?”
“You’re half pissed, and you have the nerve to ask me what this is?”
She made a face before relenting and guzzling down half of the glass before pulling it away.
“Better?”
“Yes.” She paused. “Why am I here?”
He couldn’t help but want to have fun with her.
“Honestly?” he said, stretching to put the glass down.
She sent him a jerky, hesitant nod.
“You told me you wanted me to take you to bed, and being the gentleman I am, I obliged.”
She whimpered and fell back upon the down pillows, bringing one up to cover her head. She said something, but it came out too muffled for him to understand it. Amused, he turned and shoved her slightly to give him enough room to lie down.
She shifted easily, continuing to carry on a conversation with her pillowcase. When she ceased her rambling, he turned on his side and rested his jaw on his palm, lifting the pillow to see her better.
She lay like a stone statue, staring up at the ceiling.
“Would you like to talk about it?” he asked, doing everything in his power to keep his hands to himself.
“You mean, would I like to talk about Derek?” She clicked her tongue before twisting in slow motion to face him, mirroring his relaxed pose. She swayed a little, trying to gain some balance with the effects of the alcohol.
“Yes.”
“You will keep in mind that I am still intoxicated and anything I say cannot be used against me in a verbal fight. Promise?”
He nodded slowly. “Hmmm, no.”
She rolled onto her back. “Good enough.” After taking a few slow breaths, she began to speak. “I was young, lonely, naïve, and impressionable. Derek Crumwell paid attention to me, and one night I gave in to his charms, only to have him call me Tracy just as he…as he…began…”
“All right,” Edmund silenced her, his soul piercing with heavy torment. “I’ve got it.”
She blushed, though her cheeks already held a pinkish glow from her overindulgence. “He never told me who Tracy was, just started shouting and eventually stormed out.”
“Is that why you don’t let anyone get close to you?”
She tossed an agitated glance in his direction. “Oh, that’s very observant of you. Are you going to charge for this session?”
Accosted by her clever question, Edmund eased onto his back, lying next to her, quiet and brooding. He wanted to understand her, to unravel the numerous layers she’d spun around herself.
“Let’s talk about you, now,” Abby insisted. “You have everything at your fingertips, women, homes, money, women,” she repeated, “and yet, I wonder which one you’d fight to keep.”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. They are interchangeable; each is connected to the other.” He lifted his hands and interlaced his fingers together. “So, if I want one, I must have the next three…and four…or ten,” he grinned, “at my disposal.”
Like lightning, she pushed up, realized her mistake, wavered, caught herself and then stared down at him, fire flashing in her brilliant blue eyes. “Your theory is…warped,” she said in a scolding tone. “Not all women want money and a dozen homes scattered around the world.”
He came up to meet her. “Then what do they want, Abby?” He believed the question sobered her a bit. She blinked and lowered her gaze. He brushed her cheek with his fingertip, relishing its supple warmth.
“Maybe we should find a way to convince the audience to eliminate me in the next round, Edmund. I don’t think I can do this anymore.”
He slid closer so that he could feel her heated breath against his neck. “That doesn’t sound like the Abby I know.”
Her gaze shot back to him. “How can you possibly know me? We’ve only had one official date together.”
They stared at each, the air charging with weeks of restraint and flirtatious banter. He wanted to feel her against him, no matter how much it cost both of them in the end.
Impatient, he lifted his hand to cradle the back of her head. Before she could pull away, his mouth crushed over hers in a kiss borne of primal want and driven by ravished adrenaline.
“Abby,” he breathed. How many times had he imagined kissing her? She danced in his mind on a continual basis, never allowing him much sleep. Now, holding her, tasting her, all he could think of was discarding every piece of their clothing and sliding deep inside her.
Then what? If he didn’t keep his head in the game of finding an eligible wife, he’d lose his rich, entitled lifestyle. He understood, no matter how much he or the audience liked Abby, he couldn’t choose her.
Unwilling to hurt her for his own pleasure, he attempted to separate himself.
“No,” she whispered, lifting and pulling him back toward her. His reasoning lost, he wrapped his arm around her waist and lowered her to the bed.
She slid underneath him, soft and willing. Despite the tug of war between his conscience, and what his body wanted, he continued to kiss her, her mouth a lavish haven for his deprived needs. She tasted like cherries and mint, and he drank of her sweet and cool essence.
When he felt the touch of her tongue dance with his, his body coiled tighter. She reached around him, her hands slipping through his shirt to press against his skin. Her smooth palm glided across his flesh like warm silk, timid and searching at the same time.
He held back a groan, her hips arching upward, driving his arousal hard between her thighs. His hunger escalated, his hand moving down to lift her hips higher, deeper against his. He longed to lose himself in her tonight, at this moment. He knew he shouldn’t want something so badly, so consuming, but by God, he wanted her.
****
Edmund’s feathery kisses engulfed Abby’s already inebriated senses, her midsection tugging lower, twisting tighter. Never before had she experienced such uncontrollable impulses. Flashes of her conversation with him regarding her experience, or lack thereof, swam between ecstasy and sensibility. She needed to tell him. She tried to, but her words sounded more like a breathless murmur.
One more winded exhale and her dress pulled lower, exposing the tips of her breasts against Edmund’s half-open shirt. She gasped at the pleasurable sensation, her finge
rs digging into his back to press him closer.
His firm and tender lips trailed a fire of delicious caresses from her throat to her shoulder, her thoughts out of reach, except for what he was doing to her. His head lowered, his hot breath stroking her aroused peaks, taking one of them in his mouth. With his searching lips, he brought her off the bed, her body trembling and sinking into a delirious abyss.
“Edmund,” she gasped. It was the pivotal moment between them.
His body tensed as she watched him lift slightly, his eyes stormy, his face contorted in some perplexing agony. She licked her lips, tasting him on her tongue and wanting so badly to pull him back.
“This isn’t supposed to be happening,” he murmured as he exhaled, his chest heaving, his breath staggered. He closed his eyes and lowered his forehead against hers.
“Edmund, what? What isn’t supposed to be happening?” Her voice cracked on the last word. He never answered her as he rolled onto his back, his blank stare more than she could bear.
Her heart sank below her belly as she crawled to the other side, pulled the strap of her dress up where it had slipped down.
With her face aflame and her body shaking, she placed her bare feet onto the floor. How she’d misplaced her shoes she didn’t know. She glanced back at the hotel alarm clock, the glaring red neon numbers indicating 2:45.
Mortification replaced euphoria as she wrapped her arms around her waist and shuffled to the foot of the bed. She still felt the effects of the alcohol, or the lingering effect of their fleeting kiss, she didn’t know which. “Can you take me home?” She wished she’d cleared her throat of the unshed tears before she’d asked the question.
He sat up, swiping a hand down his face and letting out a long exhale.
She couldn’t believe it, but she actually felt sorry for him. She thought she’d never seen anyone more confused in her life, and she didn’t want to be the reason for it. Instead of waiting for him to move, she padded on wobbly legs toward the main room. She continued to place more distance between them, her throat constricting from what she’d almost done and almost let him do.
She’d managed to reach out a shaky hand toward the doorknob when his voice stopped her. She was so distraught, she hadn’t heard him get up. He stood only a few inches away, bracing his hand on the door and preventing her from opening it.
“Don’t leave.” He sounded dejected and shaken.
She squeezed her eyes shut to avoid looking at him. “You can’t have it both ways, Edmund.”
“I must insist you stay.” His winded plea forced her to open her eyes and gaze up at his harrowed features. He stood beside her, his shirt half unbuttoned and half hanging out.
She tried to shift away but her body refused to move. She knew leaving was the safest thing to do. To leave and guard her heart like she did with the locket. Instead, she found herself not budging an inch.
“Give me one good reason.”
He quirked both eyebrows up before leaving to retrieve something out of his small nightstand. When he returned and presented her the familiar book, her lips parted as she focused on the title.
“Pride and Prejudice? Really?”
He nodded. “I have nothing else to barter. I also brought Jane Eyre, but I find Elizabeth’s independent and spirited character more to my liking.”
Unable to leave, he wasted no time in grabbing her hand and leading her back toward the bed. Still wearing the slinky dress the show had picked out for her to wear, she tried pulling the hem down and adjusting the low-cut bodice. She hadn’t noticed how precariously close she stood to revealing her modest-sized breasts until Edmund forced his gaze away with a stammering breath.
Without saying a word, he ambled across the room to one of his dresser drawers and pulled out a black T-shirt and a pair of gray joggers that was probably worth more than half her wardrobe.
“You might be more comfortable in these,” he said toward the wall, avoiding glancing at her.
She smiled, contented to know she affected him despite his efforts to maintain a sense of principled control.
“Don’t look,” she warned, knowing it would be easier to walk the few feet to the bathroom. Some part of her wanted him to suffer, just a little, for leaving her in such a rattled state.
As he remained standing with his back to her, his head bent and arms stretched in front of him on the tall dresser, she twisted her arm behind her back to undo her zipper. The apparatus glided with little effort until it snagged about three-fourths of the way down.
The more she pulled, the more it refused to budge. With her arms aching, she let them drop, letting out a frustrated breath.
“Shoot,” she mumbled.
“Shoot? What’s shoot?” he asked over his right shoulder.
She wanted to laugh at the ridiculous question. “I need you to unzip me.”
“No,” he said, his answer direct and forceful.
“Fine. I’ll go see if Tommy’s available.” She hadn’t even twisted toward the door when he turned and grasped her by her midsection. His arms wrapped around her, hauling her hard into his front.
Against her ear, he growled in a half-teasing, half-serious tone, a quiver of pleasure racing down her spine. “You are undoubtedly the most incorrigible woman I’ve ever met.”
She let her head fall back against his chest. “I don’t think you’d like me any other way.”
“Vixen,” he murmured.
She held the air inside her lungs as she paid the price for her insistence. After a few careful yanks, his warm and caressing fingers slid at a slow pace toward her lower back. She bit her lip to keep from whimpering.
“Is this what you wanted?” he whispered, his breath gliding across her nape. A thousand tiny goose bumps burst out all over as she stamped down a carnal urge to turn and get lost in him. The only thing stopping her was feeling him retreat, once again.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, her voice surprisingly composed. She then walked out of his arms and straight into the bathroom, closing the door and falling against it in a state of maddening bewilderment.
After she’d dressed in his soft laundered clothes, she opened the door, finding him stretched out on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He turned and lifted his gaze to her frumpy appearance, smiling with such adoration.
“Come here,” he said, motioning with his index finger.
Her mouth twisted in a distrusting frown. “You’re not going to try and kiss me again, are you?”
He chuckled and then shook his head. “Are you more afraid that I will or that I won’t?”
She gave a nonchalant shrug, belying the fact her heart pounded with such grand velocity at his first option. “Both.”
His chin lowered as his gaze remained fully fixed on her face. “You do not know how hard it was for me to stop, Abby.”
“I’m guessing a lot easier than it was to continue.” She still felt rejected by his ability to roll away from her with what seemed like such little effort.
He ran a hand through his ruffled hair. “You deserve better than some hotel room.”
She conceded to his point; although she believed, his decision not to pursue her any further was much more complicated. With the jogging pants’ strings tied tight and the hem dragging the ground at her heel, she climbed onto the bed, sitting crossed-legged with her arms wrapped around her stomach.
He sat up and placed a mountain of pillows against the fake headboard. She hesitated on how to join him, until he placed a hand upon her shoulder and coaxed her toward his chest and between his legs. She didn’t resist, his simple touch turning her into a piece of clay for him to mold.
Chapter Nineteen
“What chapter?” Edmund asked, his voice reverberating against Abby’s back as she lay against him.
“Chapter Sixteen…something about Mr. Darcy being selfish—”
“Ah, yes, ‘I have been a selfish being all my life’…of course,” Edmund said. He then flipped to the exact page and started to re
ad. Abby listened about the historical character Jane Austen created. She listened about Mr. Darcy being a spoiled child and how he’d been given principles, but had not been taught how to use them.
Then Edmund stopped reading, prompting Abby to question him on the passage. “Are you like him, Edmund?” she asked, turning so her cheek rested against Edmund’s upper chest. His heart thumped hard and steady, like an invigorating rain.
“I don’t know. My father was very strict, with little time to give me a lesson on any principles, good or bad.”
She smiled. “I think he’d be proud of you.”
He didn’t answer right away, as if he mulled over her words and struggled with their meaning. After a few minutes, she snuggled closer to him, taking his warmth and forgetting, for the time being, what they battled and almost surrendered. He continued to read to her, his rich, soothing voice rocking her to sleep.
What seemed like a second later, she jerked her lids open, finding the book closed, the pages he’d read lost inside. She lifted a glance upon his resting form, his beautiful head cocked at an uncomfortable angle.
Despite the danger, she placed a quiet kiss upon his lips. She didn’t regret that small piece of intimacy they’d shared earlier, despite his aversion to it. It seemed now, while she was willing to open her world to him, he had snapped his world shut.
As he let out a little snore, she backed off the bed, dressed back into her evening clothes and left. In the lobby, she called Tommy to pick her up, a task he jumped at in the early morning light.
“So…” Tommy said, trying to draw something out of her as he drove, almost running one traffic light and just missing three residential mailboxes, waiting for an answer.
Abby turned away toward the rising dawn, impressed by the cotton candy-colored clouds on the horizon. “He read Pride and Prejudice to me and then we fell asleep,” she confessed.
She twisted back toward Tommy in time to see him make a face. She held her breath until he shook his head and said nothing else, even while parking the truck, handing over her shoes and waving good-bye.
Lord Bachelor Page 15