To Catch A Rogue (London Steampunk: The Blue Blood Conspiracy Book 4)

by Bec McMaster

  "I've been wanting to do that for a long time," he murmured, brushing a kiss against her jawline.

  "You can do that to me anytime you want."

  She felt boneless. Utterly relaxed. He might have to carry her to the carriage.

  He laughed again.

  "Do you want me to—"

  "No," he said.

  Lark shivered in his arms, as Charlie slowly stroked her back.

  "Not yet. When I get my hands on you, there's going to be no reason to hurry. I want total privacy for what I intend."

  Lark lifted her head and groaned.

  They were under a bridge, soaked to the skin, and he'd ruined her with just one kiss. It had to be the bloodlust in her system from the fight.

  "You drive me crazy, Charlie Todd."

  "Good." He rose up onto his elbows. "Because you've been doing that to me for years."

  "Where have you been?" Gemma asked brusquely as she knelt and examined a dead man's face.

  "Lark was helping to see to my wound," Charlie said. "Some bastard shot me."

  "Where?" Gemma straightened intently.

  "Flesh wound," he replied. "Nothing a little blood won't fix."

  Lark's hand tugged at his, as if it embarrassed her to be caught holding his hand. He deliberately laced their fingers together and looked at her.

  "I see," Gemma said, her gaze lifting to both their faces. "Well, I think it about time to return home. Obsidian's managed to truss up one of our erstwhile attackers, and he'd like a little privacy so we can have a chat with him. Think you can drive a carriage? Our driver has vanished."

  "More Black Wolves?"

  Gemma pursed her lips. "They were wearing their masks, yes."

  "You sound unconvinced."

  "This is the second attack featuring a group of blue bloods wearing wolf masks. Call me paranoid, but when Balfour wants me to believe something so desperately, I feel like I really mustn't."

  He nodded. "Either that or there’s definitely a schism between the wolves."

  Chapter 23

  Lark hadn’t needed much convincing to join Charlie in the heated waters again, though she’d worn her chemise this time, small good that it did.

  She’d been trembling with cold by the time they returned to the diplomat’s house, her lip starting to shudder. She hadn’t given a thought to consequences, or the fact it was only Charlie and her, until they were in the waters.

  And now she was here, the chemise draped to her skin and her nipples clearly visible, while she was fairly certain Charlie wore not a stitch.

  "How's the shoulder?" she asked.

  "Healed, but still a little tender."

  "Pity."

  "Thought you'd forgiven me by now."

  She cut him a dangerous look.

  His craving virus levels must have been higher than hers. It usually took her most of the night to recover from a wound like that.

  "That’s better," Charlie breathed, tipping his scalp back under the water. The strong cords of his throat showed in stark relief, water gleaming over the golden muscle of his shoulders.

  "What? Getting warm? Or washing the rouge off your cheeks?" she teased.

  "Ha, ha. I deserved that."

  "You did."

  He flipped his head forward, spraying her with water. Droplets of it clung to his chin and the firm line of his lips. Being so close to dawn meant his strong jaw was lined with stubble, and suddenly she couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like against her skin.

  He must have sensed it.

  Inch by inch they circled closer.

  "Whyever are you looking at me like that, Lark?"

  "Because… I’m thinking wicked thoughts," she whispered.

  His smile held all manner of sins. "I didn’t think you took much convincing to come swimming with me. What sort of wicked thoughts? Are you intending to seduce me?"

  She rolled her eyes to hide the sudden flutter inside her. "Would it be difficult?"

  Ripples of water edged against her skin as Charlie circled her slowly. "It depends. I have a reputation to consider, you know? But you were very protective of me tonight. I might be inclined toward rewarding you." The soft caress of his words whispered against her skin as he edged behind her. "What now?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "You’re the one seducing me." He trailed a finger across the slope of her back, brushing a kiss to her shoulder as he circled back in front.

  I’m not so sure about that.

  She shivered.

  "You’re the one with the experience in these types of situations," she whispered.

  His head froze at an angle. "What do you mean by that?"

  Cheeks burning, she looked away. "I’ve never been with a man."

  "I’ve never been with one either," he murmured. "Nor a woman."

  "This isn’t amusing."

  Charlie paused an inch away from her. "Why do you think I’m joking? I waited for you, Lark. I have no more experience in these matters than you do, beyond conceptual. And whatever I learned from watching Miss Jasmine."

  Lark's heart started pounding.

  It was one thing to be naked in front of him, quite another to strip herself bare. I waited for you.... She didn't know what to say. Except perhaps....

  "What the hell do you mean by that?" Lark drew back, water sluicing around her breasts.

  Charlie dipped below the water again, most of his face covered as he glided toward her. He came up, water dripping down his chest and shoulders. "I'm a virgin, Lark. I wanted it to be you."

  "A what?"

  "What do you want me to say?" He waved his arms slowly through the water, stirring drifts of steam. "I'm not entirely innocent. I've kissed girls—"

  "I daresay a little bit more than that," she choked out. A virgin? How on earth could he...? All those girls he'd chased when he was younger. And he'd been away for nearly three years. She'd never dared hope.

  Charlie shrugged. "A little bit more than that." Once again those dangerous blue eyes locked on hers. "I became a blue blood when I was fourteen. It took me over a year before I could fully control myself. Blade warned me to be careful when it came to fooling around with girls. There are two kinds of lust when it comes to the craving, blood lust and... well, sex. Both can set a blue blood over the edge and it’s easy to confuse the two in the heat of the moment. I didn't want to risk it. I was careful. But I didn't dare push too far, because he was right. It was overwhelming at times."

  Lark's mouth dropped open.

  "And then there was you," he said, his voice roughening.

  "You never even noticed me," she protested.

  "Not when I was sixteen, no."

  "Not when you were seventeen, either. Or eighteen."

  "Seventeen," he admitted. "I was seventeen and you were sixteen. Or... Christ. Nineteen, now I know the truth."

  Charlie swam closer. Lark's back hit the edge of the pool, but he didn't stop. Simply set his hands on the stone on either side of her hips and watched her.

  "March 21, 1884," he said softly.

  "What the hell does that mean?"

  "That's the day it all changed. I'd told you I could steal anything that wasn't nailed down, and you challenged me to steal the key Master Whitlow, the brewer, kept around his neck. Said you could beat me to it. Remember Old Man Sagan who patrolled the brewery? With his mechanical hounds?"

  Lark's mind raced. Clarity dawned. "Blade thrashed the pair of us within an inch of our lives. That's all I remember."

  "Yeah, well my recollection’s a little different. We were fleeing through the brewery," he said, his gaze sliding lower. "It was two months after you first wore that horrible dress. Neither of us had anticipated the fact that Whitlow had the brewery patrolled after a string of recent break-ins. Those bloody hounds were on our heels, and you found a ladder leading into the rafters. We scrambled up it and found ourselves trapped. And worse, Old Man Sagan was coming."

  "What has this got to do with—"

/>   "It hadn't entirely escaped my notice that I wasn't the only one growing up. Your shirts no longer fit quite so loosely, and your breeches weren't baggy any more."

  "You noticed?"

  He loomed closer, breath whispering against her wet lips. "I noticed. And when we had to hide in the brewery vat to escape, you came out all wet."

  "I smelled like beer for a week."

  "You were... All. Wet," Charlie repeated softly, leaning closer. His lips skimmed her jaw. "I could see through your shirt. It clung to you in places I'd never really paid much attention to before, and I'm not ashamed to say I didn't look away."Lark's breath caught as his hands skimmed her waist.

  "And then," he whispered, "we had to crawl out of the brewery through a skylight. When we collapsed on the roof, you were draped all over me. I could barely breathe from the climb, but the craving started itching through me. Every single inch of you was pressed against me, and you lifted your head and smiled, and...." He looked away. "It was suddenly screaming through me, no longer merely a whisper. It was like some part of me came to life, and it was never going to go away again. Here you were hugging me, and saying, ‘Thank God we made it,’ and I wasn't sure if I wanted to drink your blood or fuck you."

  She remembered now.

  He'd snapped at her and pushed her away, and then they'd hurried home, and Charlie had avoided her for weeks. She'd thought it had been because of the verbal thrashing Blade gave him.

  Charlie's thumb slid up and down her side. "It scared the hell out of me. I'd never wanted to hurt anyone, but suddenly all I could think about was you. I was losing control, and badly, and that's when Blade and Will started teaching me to box. If I was exhausted, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad? At least, that's what they were hoping. Didn't quite work that way."

  Her heart pounded.

  "Did you tell them it was me...?"

  He shook his head. "I'm fairly certain Blade knew. He never said anything though." Charlie released a long breath. "Lark, when I left the rookeries, it wasn't just because of what happened to Tin Man. When you stopped breathing that night...." He shuddered. "It was like a switch flipped in my brain. Barrons used his blood to heal you, but I couldn't control myself again. I could barely stand to let anyone else in your room while you surfaced. I knew what you were going through with the craving, but I couldn't help you." He brushed his mouth against her shoulder, stirring the thin fabric of her chemise. A minute kiss. "I couldn't be there for you while you healed, because all I could think about was claiming you. Even now"—he lifted his eyes, and there was no more blue in them—"I'm on the edge."

  Some blue bloods grew territorial with certain people.

  But she’d never, ever expected to it to happen to her and Charlie.

  "You keep throwing other girls in my face," he said. "But it’s you. It’s always been you. I haven’t touched anyone else since the night of the revolution. I don’t even know if I could anymore."

  Lark shuddered.

  "I love you," he whispered, tracing his lips over the skin just behind her ear. "I want you to be mine. But I also want you to be certain."

  He wasn’t just talking about one night.

  He wasn’t just making plans to seduce her.

  I waited for you…. I wanted it to be you.

  It gave her the confidence she needed to reach for him, her palm sliding slickly down his chest.

  "I’m certain," she whispered.

  The heat in his eyes flamed to life. "Good," he murmured, and picked her up. Setting her on the edge of the pool, he pressed her thighs wide, standing up and pushing between them. "Because not being able to touch you has been killing me."

  All of that naked skin, slick with running water. It poured down his body, caressing every firm curve, every flat plane.

  "I—"

  He captured the words on her lips, his kiss scalding her. Hands sliding up her thighs, he nudged them wider, his thumbs rubbing small, ever-encroaching circles up the sensitive interior as he pressed himself against her.

  Lark clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as those firm lips reminded her of all the reasons she was doing this. Sharp teeth nibbled on her lip, and then he was breaking free, kissing his way lower.

  Over her chin, down her throat….

  His thumbs edged under the hem of her chemise, moving insistently.

  "You’re so fucking pretty," he whispered, the rasp of his stubble prickling the smooth slopes of her breasts. Hot breath burned cool on her wet skin. "God, you torture me. Every day. Every night. I’ve wanted to do this forever."

  "So have I."

  Her whisper held a secret confession, the long restrained depths of her heart. He had no idea how long she’d craved his touch.

  Slipping the chemise out from under her bottom, he dragged it up her body. Lark sucked in a breath as it rasped over her nipples.

  And then he was tugging it over her head and throwing it across the room as if it had personally offended him.

  "Fuck," he breathed, his gaze skating down over her.

  She wanted to cover her small breasts, but he captured her wrists as if he knew what she intended.

  "Don’t you dare hide. Not from me." The flash of that roguish smile slayed her doubts. "And especially not these."

  There was a reason most men had thought her a boy for years, but Charlie didn’t seem to care.

  His hot mouth closed over her breast, his tongue stroking her nipple as he suckled it into his mouth.

  The sensation pulled deep inside her, making her squirm.

  "Charlie!"

  Wrapping his arms around her, he dragged her against him until she could feel him in all her wet and secret places. The blunt press of his erection rubbed against her, a little insistently.

  She knew how this went.

  The idea made her a little nervous, and he must have felt the tension in her spine. "Relax. We’re just playing."

  Laving attention on her other nipple, he wrought utter havoc upon her. The sensations were too much. Too intense.

  And yet, not enough.

  She wanted his fingers between her thighs, where she’d learned to take her own pleasure. Capturing his hand, she moved it up her thigh.

  Charlie’s mouth broke from her skin.

  "Impatient little minx, aren’t you? But as they say, ‘as my lady commands.’"

  With another heart-shattering smile, he kissed his way down her abdomen, and Lark’s breath caught when his broad shoulders pushed her thighs wide. This was not what she’d intended.

  "What are you doing?"

  "There are some aspects of my education that are severely lacking," he admitted. "I like to take a scholarly approach to all things."

  "Oh, yes, I’d noticed."

  "A little practical experimentation never hurt anybody."

  Cupping her ass in his enormous hands, he nuzzled between her thighs.

  She was mortified, but the feel of his breath over her sensitive skin stayed her protests. And then the first trace of his tongue slicked over her, slow and curious.

  Lark’s hands slapped back against the stone tiles, her entire body shamelessly splayed around him. All she could see was the blonde of his hair, darkened with water as his tongue skated over her again, and the sight made everything inside her tighten.

  Streaks of pleasure seared her nerves. He missed the mark several times, and then his tongue stroked over that hard little nubbin, and Lark cried out, her thighs locking around his head, and one hand curling into his hair. Oh, God.

  Charlie blinked at her, his lashes clinging together.

  And then he smiled as if she’d given him the key to the kingdom.

  "Aha," he said, and delved back between her thighs.

  Tongue circling her clit, he suckled hard.

  Lark gasped. She couldn’t take much more of this. The intensity of his touch was so much stronger than her own, and the illicitness of the situation made her ache. That wicked tongue wasn’t going fast enough. She want
ed to rub herself against his face, careless of the abrasion of his stubble against her thighs. The knot inside her twisted tighter, and Lark’s fingernails dug into his scalp.

  "Charlie! Oh, God!"

  It struck her like lightning.

  She cried out, shattering beneath his tongue. Pleasure lashed through her. Too much. Charlie gave her no mercy. His hot mouth clamped over her, and then her spine was bowing, her shoulders meeting the cold tile. She shoved his mouth against her, her body jerking as another aftershock tore through her.

  And then she was collapsing bonelessly on the cold tile as Charlie lifted his head.

  Somehow she found herself in the water again, wilted against his chest, her heart pounding a savage beat and her lungs heaving.

  "Well," Charlie murmured, "that was interesting."

  Lark smacked his shoulder with her palm, because of course he sounded smug.

  Laughter rumbled through his chest, and he pressed her back against the wall of the pool, hands still soothing up and down her flanks.

  Inch by inch, she was coming back to herself after the complete obliteration of her senses.

  "You’re wicked," she managed to say.

  "Determined," he pointed out, painting sweet kisses across her shoulders. "I’ve wanted to do that for years."

  "Destroy me?"

  "Make love to you."

  And then she realized his erection was sliding wetly between her thighs, brushing up against her with a little flicker of sharp sensation.

  She’d been a little nervous about taking this next step, for every girl said it hurt a little. But Lark clumsily reached for him, her fingers sliding around that brutish weapon. Charlie groaned.

  "Hell. Oh, God." He clamped his hand around hers, forcing her fingers to squeeze harder.

  He drew back, resting his forehead against her shoulder.

  "What’s wrong?" she teased. "Do you like that, Charlie?"

  "I’m begging myself for restraint."

  "Whyever would you want to do that?"

  He took her hand and moved it away from his cock. "Because, as much as I would like to sincerely take you up on this offer… we’re not going to do this for the first time in the pool."