When His Kiss Is Wicked

by Kaitlin O'Riley

  They were surely lost now, for how could he resist her?

  With an eager groan, he shrugged his dark gray jacket from his shoulders, dropping it to the floor without losing contact with the sweetness of her mouth. The brass buttons of his silk waistcoat were her next focus, and soon the waistcoat joined his jacket in a pile on the floor. The sheer excitement of having Colette in a frenzy to undress him aroused him beyond belief. With mounting impatience, she hastily unfastened the buttons of his shirtfront, spreading the white linen wide, her hands running over the smooth planes of his chest.

  Practically bare-chested now, his shirt gapping open to his waist, he began to walk her backward toward the bookshelf. She took awkward steps, her hands clinging to his naked shoulders beneath his open shirt, her lips still joined with his. He walked her in reverse until her back was against one of the bookshelves. His body trembling, Lucien could not get enough of her mouth and the heady, sweet taste of her. Her kisses were all-consuming. It was almost as if they feared that losing contact would break the seductive spell they had fallen under.

  What am I doing?

  Feeling as if he were in a dream, there in the darkened bookshop in the history section with her family just upstairs, Lucien kissed Colette with a wild urgency and a desperate need that completely overwhelmed him.

  Ignoring his pounding heart, he finally broke their prolonged kiss and cupped her face in his hands. Staring into her eyes, he knew he should end this. But the look of impassioned longing on her face, her dark, heavy-lidded eyes full of desire, and her heated body pressed eagerly against his weakened already thin resolve. Still breathing heavily, he murmured her name as a question.

  For an endless moment she stared back at him, and he was mesmerized by her. Her lips, reddened and swollen from his kisses, trembled in hesitation. He should turn away, but he couldn’t. He was rooted to the floor, fascinated by the passionate look of intent in her eyes. Was it sparked by desire? Was it daring? Without uttering a single word, Colette slid her hands ever so slowly from his shoulders. Her fingers, smooth and silky, glided with a feather-light touch down his chest. He dared not move a single muscle although every nerve in his body tensed with eager anticipation as the tips of her fingers gradually caressed the taut skin of his stomach. His skin burned where she touched him, inflaming his need for her. When she dared to lower her hands over his hips to the hardened bulge straining at the front of his trousers, Lucien sucked in his breath. Christ! She was not making this easy. He was already rock-hard with desire; the bold touch of her fingers through the fabric of his pants found him close to bursting.

  With an anguished groan, he covered her mouth in another searing kiss just as her fingers firmly closed around him. He was lost. He pressed her up against the nearest shelf, her bottom resting on the edge. Leaning her back, his tongue still possessing her mouth, he lifted the skirt of her burgundy gown and ran his hand up the length of her stocking-clad thigh. Colette clung to him, breathing heavily. With one touch of his finger, he knew she was ready for him, wanted him. The thought drove him mad. She had already freed him from the constraints of his trousers, amazed at how easily something so illicit could be accomplished. Within a matter of seconds he had thrust himself deeply inside her. Losing himself in the incredible heat of her body, he could think of nothing but the woman who arched against him, wanting him as much as he wanted her. It was the most erotic moment of his life. As they moved against each other, their pace increasing, their movements grew more urgent as he sought to give her the pleasure she was giving him. Her head fell against his shoulder and the warmth of her breath heated the skin of his neck. She clung to him with both long legs hitched tightly around his waist as he thrust into her over and over again. Books fell to the floor around them, their pages carelessly tossed open, as he rocked against her.

  For an endless while there was just the two of them, their hearts pounding, their mouths gasping, their bodies embracing. With no words to describe his feelings for her, Lucien just knew that he never wanted to let Colette go. She belonged to him. Suddenly Colette’s breathing became more rapid, her movements more frantic until she cried out his name into his mouth. With a few more grinding thrusts, Lucien immediately followed her into bliss.

  They held on to each other for some time, trying to regain their composure, each loath to let the other go.

  In the dimness of the empty and silent shop, they slowly slid from their awkward position on the bookshelf and began to arrange their clothes into some semblance of decency amid an epic silence before facing each other. With his pants closed and his shirt buttoned once again, Lucien collapsed into the nearest seat, an overstuffed armchair in the corner, and pulled a limp Colette onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her.

  “Oh, God, Colette,” he whispered, overwhelmed by his feelings for her and unable to define them. What had they just done? Again.

  She rested her head against his, and he breathed in her sweet scent. She felt like heaven in his arms and he could not resist another kiss on her lips.

  “This isn’t the reason you came to see me tonight, is it?” she asked in a weak attempt to lend humor to their situation.

  With a rueful half-smile, he gave his head a shake. “No, I must say, it was not.”

  She hesitated before saying, “But you did come to apologize for the last time this happened.”

  “The last time this happened at least I took you in a civilized manner, in a bed. Not a bookshop.”

  Seeming flustered and charmingly embarrassed by his referral to their erotically charged, and quite reckless, encounter, Colette hid her face against his chest. He shook her lightly and squeezed her in comfort, kissing her again. He could not kiss her enough.

  With her soft voice tinged with regret, she whispered, “And you’re going to apologize to me for this time, too?”

  “No, I’m blaming you entirely for this one.”

  Unsure if he was teasing her or not, she gave him a puzzled look. On some level he wasn’t joking. She had been rather bold with him this evening and he could not fight his desire for her. Not that he would have minded under normal circumstances. But this…this encounter, this madness, which had been more phenomenal and passionate and amazing than anything he had ever experienced in his life, should not have even occurred in the first place. He shouldn’t be having sexual liaisons with Colette at all. Period. This was a godawful mess, this was.

  He kissed her cheek, softening his words to her. “No, this was entirely my fault. But this can’t keep happening with us, Colette.”

  “No,” she murmured low in agreement. “It can’t ever happen again. It won’t.”

  He held her tightly, enjoying the feel of her body cradled intimately across his lap. He could hold her like that forever. “When were you going to tell me that you and your family were moving to Brighton?”

  She pulled away from him, sitting up. “Does it matter?”

  “Of course it does,” he said soothingly, pulling her back toward his chest. He needed to hold her close. “Do you want to live in Brighton?”

  “No,” she admitted with a heavy sigh, relaxing against him once again. “But there is not much of a choice for me in the matter. It seems my mother, with Uncle Randall’s help, sold the shop.”

  Lucien paused, his heart suddenly pounding. “Which brings me to the other reason I wished to speak to you tonight.”

  She looked at him curiously.

  “I’m the man who bought the building, Colette.”

  Her shocked expression was not unexpected, but the scrutiny in her narrowed eyes caught him off guard.

  “You?” she breathed. “You bought our shop?”

  “Yes, to help you,” he explained. “And your family.” He had not intended to ever reveal his identity as the anonymous buyer, but then he had not anticipated her family relocating to Brighton either.

  She stared at him in disbelief and something akin to horror shadowed her delicately formed features.

  Lucien assu
med Colette would be relieved, perhaps even delighted by the news. Her silence worried him. When he’d purchased the building, he did it because he felt protective of the Hamilton girls. He did it anonymously so as not to cause them to feel indebted to him. With the unnamed buyer not requiring them to vacate the premises and allowing the bookshop to remain open, he felt he would be easing their financial burden while allowing them to maintain the status quo without ever knowing he was the one who helped them. He rather thought he had done a good deed and had been pleased with himself over it. Now, however, he had second thoughts about his little plan. Colette seemed strangely withdrawn and quiet.

  “Aren’t you relieved you can stay in London? And that you can keep the shop open now?” he suggested hopefully.

  The slap stunned him, for he didn’t see it coming. Her hand flew across his cheek in a stinging blow. He instinctively grabbed her wrist before she could hit him again, which she clearly had every intention of doing. Pulling her hand from his grasp, she sprang from his lap, scurrying away from him. She was furious.

  “What the hell was that for?” he asked, frowning and rubbing his cheek in confusion. It was definitely not the response he had expected from her.

  “Get out,” she uttered with a coldness and finality in her tone that chilled him.

  Wondering what the devil had gotten into her, he rose from the chair and followed after her. “Colette?”

  She picked up his jacket and waistcoat from the floor where she had removed them so seductively only moments ago and flung them at him. “Get out, and don’t ever try to see me again.”

  Catching the garments before they hit his face, he made another attempt to discover what was going on in her pretty head. He thought he had done something nice, but apparently he had offended her. “What is the matter?”

  Colette saw his hat resting on the counter and threw that at him, too. She then marched determinedly to the shop door and reached for the key. Her hands trembled as she turned to face him. “I don’t know who you think I am, but you cannot buy me off.”

  Incredulous at her words, he asked again, “What are you talking about?”

  “Apparently I’m good enough for you to bed, but not good enough for you to marry. You have made that point abundantly clear to me, Lucien, and I accepted it. I am a working woman and you are an earl, and as the heir to a marquis you have higher expectations in a wife. Fine. I wish you luck with Faith Bromleigh. But I will not be paid for services rendered with my own shop like some wharf-side doxy so you can walk away from me with a clean conscience. You can keep the building and the bloody shop and let it rot for all I care. I’ll be leaving with my family, and you need never trouble yourself over me again.” She took a gasping breath before unlocking the door and swinging it wide open. “Now get out of here this minute.”

  “Colette, I—”

  “Don’t speak to me. I can’t bear it.”

  “It’s not what you think, Colette,” he attempted to explain, unable to bear the pain in her expression. “I didn’t buy the building to atone for sleeping with you at all. I bought it be—”

  “Get out before I scream.”

  “Fine,” he said as he stalked through the doorway. As he turned back to say one more thing, the door slammed in his face. Stunned, Lucien stood there, clutching his waistcoat and jacket in his arms, staring at the “Closed” sign swinging wildly in the door of Hamilton’s Book Shoppe.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Table for Two

  The next evening Lord Jeffrey Eddington escorted Colette and Juliette to their last ball before moving to Brighton. Once again, Lady Hayvenhurst was hosting the final of her lavish parties of the Season, and her many guests crowded the grand ballroom.

  Colette had no desire to attend such an affair, but Juliette had cajoled her for hours until she had consented to accompany her and Jeffrey to the party.

  “Really, Colette. This is our last chance for a bit of fun in town before we are relegated to the country. Who knows what can happen tonight? Forget about Lucien Sinclair and the bookshop and just enjoy yourself,” her sister had suggested earlier that evening.

  If only she could forget Lucien Sinclair. Colette had been unable to think of anyone or anything but Lucien Sinclair for weeks now. After their scene in the bookshop the night before, she truly never wanted to see him again. Not only did she cringe at the memory of her own behavior, but the impact of Lucien’s words had left her sick to her stomach.

  Dressed in her best gown of ice pink with a little bustle covered in baby rosettes, she had allowed Lisette to curl her hair in an elegant arrangement down one shoulder. Carrying a pink silk reticule and a lacy fan, she attempted a smile as Jeffrey handed her a glass of sparkling champagne.

  “Are you smiling at me or the champagne?” he questioned her with a gleam in his eye.

  She really did smile then, even laughed, for Jeffrey’s lighthearted mood was contagious. “At the champagne, of course.”

  “Not me?”

  He did look remarkably handsome in his black evening clothes. His dark hair was neatly combed and his clean-shaven face accented the masculine lines of his face. “I wouldn’t wish for you to get an inflated head, my dearest Lord Eddington.”

  “I couldn’t possibly,” he scoffed easily. “Now drink up. We’re going to have fun this evening! Let’s celebrate your last evening out in London with a little style.”

  Jeffrey tipped his glass to hers and Colette mimicked his motions, taking a sip of the cool and sparkling liquid. She smiled brightly and made a concerted effort to have fun, even if it killed her. She scanned the crowded ballroom, wishing to see Lucien and yet dreading it at the same time.

  “Where has Juliette wandered off to now?” he asked.

  “My aunt and uncle have cornered her, wishing to introduce her to Count Someone. It’s my uncle’s last attempt to marry one of us off.”

  “Well, she is in good hands, and you are stuck alone with me. Now, let’s go outside for some air, shall we?”

  Placing her hand on his arm, and careful not to spill her drink, she followed Jeffrey out to the veranda. They found two unoccupied chairs arranged around a small, round wrought-iron table in a secluded section of the veranda and made themselves comfortable. A cluster of candles flickered in glass holders in the center of the table. A long reflecting pool at the edge of the veranda had been filled with floating candles and, as if Lady Hayvenhurst had ordered it herself, hundreds of stars glistened in the warm summer sky. It was a lovely spot. They could enjoy the night air and still hear strains of the music from the orchestra.

  “You look quite stunning this evening,” he said.

  “You are very kind,” she responded. She would have thought she might feel uncomfortable being alone with him after their kiss in his carriage, but he had a way of making her feel entirely at ease. He possessed the kind of charm that instantly won people over. She paused before saying, “There is something I’ve been wondering about you, Jeffrey.”

  “What is that?”

  “Why is it you have not married yet?” Colette asked, suddenly curious.

  He winked at her. “Are you asking me to marry you, Colette?”

  She laughed at his teasing. “I asked you a serious question.”

  He inclined his head to her. “I’ve yet to meet a woman I cared to make my wife.”

  “Ah. So you are optimistic that a bride is in your future?”

  “Absolutely. I’m just not ready to settle down yet.”

  “Lucien is ready, though, isn’t he?” Colette could not help herself from questioning his friend.

  “Supposedly,” Jeffrey said. “But I for one think he is making a terrible mistake.”

  “A mistake in getting married or in his choice of a bride?”

  “Faith Bromleigh is not the right woman for him.”

  Colette silently agreed with him, although she kept that opinion to herself. “Wasn’t he engaged once before?” She casually sipped her champagne, surpri
sed to see that she had almost finished the glass.

  “Yes.” Jeffrey rolled his blue eyes skyward in disgust. “Now that engagement was an unmitigated disaster!”

  “What was she like?” She had tried to imagine the type of woman Lucien might propose to and could not picture one.

  “Virginia Warren was beautiful, witty, very sophisticated. Lucien was head over heels in love with her.”

  Even though she was still enraged over his callous treatment of her in trying to buy her off with the shop, her stomach knotted in reflex at the thought of Lucien in love with another woman. A beautiful, clever, and sophisticated woman, no less. She did not believe he was truly in love with Lady Faith Bromleigh and suspected that he was interested in marrying her only because Faith was everything Colette was not. But head over heels in love? Lucien? How would he act? What would he say? How would one detect that he was head over heels in love?

  She questioned Jeffrey, “Why didn’t they get married if they were so in love?”

  “I said Lucien was in love. I didn’t say Virginia was,” he remarked cryptically.

  “Oh…” Colette let that bit of news sink in before daring to ask, “Can you tell me what happened? Who broke off the engagement?”

  Jeffrey glanced around the veranda at the various people milling about and lowered his voice, leaning his head closer to Colette’s to avoid being overheard. “First tell me why you wish to know.”

  She sat up straight, blinking.

  He placed his hand gently over hers, which rested on the table between them. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

  “I hate him.”

  He shook his head knowingly. “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do,” she reiterated firmly.

  “You can’t fool me, Colette.”

  “Fine. Think what you like, but tell me what happened.”

  He gazed at her intently before resuming his story. “Virginia was a spoiled, malicious woman who was never satisfied with what she had. Nothing was good enough for her, not even Lucien. I tried to warn him, but sometimes not even your closest friends can save you from disaster.”