Jason's tone sounded serious, too serious, and utterly unlike his usual over-the-top style. And then, he leaned down, and it didn't look as if he were aiming for her cheek.
She started to move into the open doorway, but his other hand reached out to stop her. There was no Gerald coming to her rescue tonight, it seemed, and Aunt Alicia had to be deeply asleep by now, too.
His lips came down on hers seconds later, before she even had time to protest. His kiss was hard and wet, and the feeling that went through her was one of alarm, not pleasure. She froze.
He lifted his head after only a moment, and she drew a breath.
"Jason, you have overstepped yourself, but I fear it is my own fault. You have misunderstood my—"
"I meant no offense," he said hurriedly, and immediately she was looking into the contrite face of the jovial man she'd come to think of as a friend. "I merely wanted to express my deep regard for you, Charlotte."
"That's... that's quite all right."
She had to fight off the urge to wipe her mouth in front of him.
"Please, don't think ill of me."
"No, no, of course not."
"God, Charlotte, if I've ruined the attachment between us—" He broke off, looking distraught and ran a hand through his hair. "It's just that I feel so strongly for you." She could see now that he was genuinely sorry for taking such a liberty with her.
"It's fine," she assured him.
"I will never do it again," he paused, "until you give me permission."
"I'll see you again, soon, Jason."
He reminded her of her promise to do just that, and then he was gone.
Relieved to shut and lock the door behind her, she didn't fight the impulse any longer but rubbed her gloved hand across her lips. It had been nothing like Reed's kiss, nothing at all. And she hadn't needed it to happen, either, to know that it wouldn't be. In her heart, Charlotte was certain that no other man's kiss could make her feel the way Reed's did.
The house was quiet as she tiptoed up the stairs. She paused only a moment on the landing when the first scream rent the night's silence. She was up the second staircase and in the nursery in a flash, the sound familiar to her, as it now was to Bridget, Lacey, and Aunt Alicia, too.
"Thomas," she said, then again, more loudly, as she reached his bedside. He was thrashing from side to side, but she knew what to do. With a little shaking, she awakened him, bleary eyed with his lower lip beginning to quiver.
"I had a bad dream," he told her as Bridget came in at a run, still pulling her wrap around her slender shoulders.
"I know," Charlotte told him, gently stroking his forehead. "But remember, it was only a dream. And whenever you have it again, someone who loves you will be here straightaway to bring you out of it. Isn't that right, Bridget?"
"Yes, miss."
Just then, Lily's small form appeared, silhouetted in the open doorway. She came right in and climbed into bed with her brother. "I'm glad you're home, Aunt Charlotte," Lily said. "I was worried."
Charlotte felt a lump in her throat. How could she ever have thought of these two children as a burden?
"Do you want to sleep with Thomas?" Charlotte asked. Lily nodded.
"Would you like that, Thomas?" Thomas only smiled in answer as his sister hugged him. "All right then, but no talking. I want you both to go straight to sleep."
She needn't have issued her dire warning, Charlotte realized; they were asleep before she even closed the door.
"Poor little guy," Bridget said, yawning widely. "Good night, miss." And she headed down the hall to her room. Charlotte dimmed all the lights on the third floor and went back down stairs.
In her own room, she removed her cape and put it carefully in the wardrobe. Her head was spinning; she should have felt nothing but excitement at seeing her first ballet. But all she could think about was Reed, out on the town with another woman.
She recognized a bone-deep jealousy that frightened her. Would it have been better if it had been Helen? At least, she was not a mystery.
Lighting one low lamp, she sat for a while in the chair by the window and thought how, in such a short span of time, her whole world had changed. If it all fell apart tomorrow, could she see herself returning to Spring City, living alone in her parents' old house, and never again feeling the way she felt when she was with Reed?
It made her shudder to imagine the loneliness and emptiness that awaited her there. She heaved a deep sigh and got up.
Undressing as quickly as her layers allowed, Charlotte put on a clean white chemise, noticing while she did that Lacey had turned down her bed. It was pure bliss, she thought, falling into the puffy down mattress.
Leaning over to put out the lamp, she heard a noise from the balcony which stopped her. She was not a fainthearted soul by nature, but all her fears of Boston came rushing upon her as the evils of the city seemed to be suddenly at her door.
Chapter 20
Charlotte could see a dark shape on her balcony just as the handle started to turn. With a small cry, she jumped out of bed and was nearly at her door when she heard a familiar voice.
"Shh, Charlotte," Reed hushed her, slipping into her room, leaving the door slightly ajar to the moonlit night. The gentle breeze from the garden carried with it the scent of roses, mingled with the aroma of sandalwood. She leaned against the door to the hallway, her heart still pounding from the jolt of fear.
"By the horn spoons! If my aunt were to catch you," she whispered, and trailed off, thinking of the terrible and irrevocable consequences.
"She won't," he whispered back, approaching her calmly as if they were meeting for tea in broad daylight. Had he completely lost his faculties? She thought of the last place she'd seen him, at the lounge with an attractive woman, and of the things a man might do when buoyed up with a little liquor... or maybe more than a little.
"Do you have a brick in your hat?"
He froze in his tracks.
"I would answer that if I had any idea what it meant."
She sighed, "Did you drink too much at the Parker House?"
"I could ask you the same thing." So he had seen her!
"You could," she said, as quietly as possible, "except I'm not the one creeping into your bedroom at night like a fox in a hen house."
He smiled, his eyes taking in every inch of her from head to foot, as the evening breeze tickled her skin. She wished for her old gaping banyan—unflattering or not! Unfortunately, Alicia had banished it.
Even in the dimness of her room, she saw the flare of desire in his eyes as he took in her sleeveless chemise and the sight of her long slender legs visible beneath the hem. Then his gaze moved upward to her nipples, which stood out like dusky moons against the virgin white fabric.
Charlotte thought he would grab her to him right then—and she wanted him to. All her female modesty and her aunt-enforced morality aside, she wanted Reed to gather her up in his arms and kiss her soundly.
"Perhaps I'm here simply to be certain you made it home safely." He moved forward, just enough to reach out one finger and stroke it down the bare flesh of her arm, and then, equally slowly, he brushed it across the taut fabric covering one nipple.
She gasped and pressed herself flatter against the hard grain of the wooden door, even while she felt the passion spiral low in her hips. She wasn't sure about this Reed; he seemed... dangerous. Shivering, she hugged herself tightly.
"I made it home just fine."
"Evidently." His eyebrows slanted up. "You've been busy. Out with two men in one day." His tone was cool.
Her anger flared as quickly as her desire had.
"You've been spying on me?" she accused incredulously, hugging herself more snugly.
Perhaps he had forgotten he was dealing with a woman who had done for herself and been independent since she was fourteen. "I won't stand for it, Reed. Besides, you looked rather busy yourself."
"Are you jealous?" he asked, the slightest of smiles playing at his lips.
She only narrowed her eyes at him. Was he playing a game with her?
"I am disconcerted that you were out with Helen last night, kissing me in the garden today, and out with another woman tonight. Do your passions run so fickle, Mr. Malloy?"
He actually laughed softly in the pale light. The infernal man!
"I assure you, Miss Sanborn," he spoke her name as a caress, while uncoiling her left arm from across her slender frame, capturing her hand in his own and planting it firmly next to her head on the door behind her. "You have entirely engaged my passions and have no need to worry about fickleness on my part."
Clearly, he wasn't pleased with her outings. Indeed, it was becoming obvious that he was equally jealous of her evening's companion as she was of his. He bent his head to kiss her exposed neck.
"Reed," she said, her voice husky with warning, as she leaned away from him, pushing against his chest with her free hand. She might as well have pushed against a brick wall. He merely smiled again and, taking her hand in his, pressed it against the door on the right side of her head.
"The woman I was with," he continued, as his thumb stroked her wrist absently, causing her mouth to go completely dry, "is someone I've mentioned to you before." He paused, looking at her lips before turning his head to drop a kiss on her shoulder. "My oldest sister, Elise, whom I will gladly introduce to you someday soon."
His sister! Charlotte would have thought that Jason was acquainted with all the Malloys, yet he had seemed not to know her.
Before she could think on this, Reed had nudged her legs apart, straining the fabric of her chemise tightly as his thigh pressed against her woman's core. She bit her lip and saw his gaze rest a moment on her mouth, his pupils dilating.
"Had you stayed any longer in the lounge, you would have seen Elise's husband join us. I don't need to spy on you, Charlotte. This city is small enough for me to know practically everyone. When you have lunch with the city's most important editor, who is probably as interested in your person as your writing skills—"
She interrupted him with a gasp. So now he didn't think she could get by on her own merits! She tried to pull her hands away from his grip but couldn't. If she hadn't trusted him completely to do her no harm, she would have screamed.
"Then," he went on, "I find out exactly where and when from John Trelaine over lunch at Ladd's just an hour later. If you go to the ballet, then have supper at one of the most expensive restaurants in Boston and, of course, drinks at the Parker—"
He bent low and to her amazement lightly grazed her nipple through the cotton, before continuing, "—all with damned Farnsworth—" He sucked her other nipple into his mouth, fabric and all, and she held her breath, until he raised his head. "Then I happen upon the very same place and have half a dozen of his friends sing your praises the moment you leave."
He looked directly into her eyes. "I don't need those foppish pups to tell me how fetching you are. Right now, the moonlight has bathed you in a heavenly light, and you look like an angel."
That silenced any retort she was about to say.
He released one of her hands so he could stroke his thumb across her pale pink lips. "My thoughts, however, are anything but angelic."
She swallowed hard at the thick feeling in her throat. Her pulse was racing, and she rested her free hand on his shoulder, noticing that her palm was damp.
He snaked his hand around her waist, locking the door behind her before releasing her other hand and pulling her to him.
"Are you afraid of me, Charlotte?"
Her lips parted, whether to protest, to encourage, or to receive his kiss, she didn't know. But he didn't kiss her yet, though his gaze lingered another moment on her lips before fixing once more on her wide green eyes.
"It occurred to me tonight, lady writer, that with your lack of experience in some areas," he pulled her with him to the bed, "you might not understand how extraordinary this feeling between us truly is."
He lowered her to the bed, leaving her with no doubt what area of experience he meant.
"Reed," she began, and for a moment, she did feel a flash of apprehension. Was he really angry that she'd been out with Jason?
"If this is part of the new life you want to explore further while you're in Boston, I'll tell you right now, Charlotte, I won't allow it."
It didn't matter that she had no intention of "exploring" anything with any other man. How dare he give her orders? "You won't allow it," she repeated incredulously.
"Not with Farnsworth, not with anyone. Except me." He pressed her against the downy mattress, and at last, he kissed her.
Finally! she thought. How she loved kissing this man.
"Mm," she sighed against his lips, grasping his hair between her fingers before clasping her hands together behind his neck. He was thorough when he wanted to be, she thought, curling her toes as he bit her lower lip and pulled it into his own mouth. But after a moment, he pulled back and looked down at her darkened eyes, his own blazing.
"This passion is not to be had with just anyone, Charlotte," he continued, capturing her chin with his thumb and forefinger while she blushed under his scrutiny and tried to turn away.
His voice was low and rough. "If you think you'll react to him—" She started to shake her head, but he went on, "If you think Farnsworth can make you moan as I can, you're mistaken."
She was speechless, thinking for a moment of the very same conclusion she'd come to regarding that topic earlier in the evening. Jason left her cold with his unwelcome kiss. Charlotte put her hand involuntarily to her lips.
Reed seemed to see in her eyes and in her gesture something of what had occurred. He fairly growled at her—this refined, urban man who had just scaled her aunt's house and climbed into her bedroom, who now, fully clothed in his evening suit, pushed himself up on his hands on either side of her.
"I have had the pleasure of knowing a few women, Charlotte." She closed her eyes and wished she could close her ears, not wanting to hear about his lovers.
"Look at me," he said, his voice gruff. She opened her eyes and stared into his. Reed's eyes were nearly all black, his consuming desire obliterating the civilized blue.
"I have never before felt the electricity that springs between us, just being near each other. It is exceedingly different from anything I have ever experienced. You don't feel this way with Farnsworth?"
It was half a statement, half a question, but he didn't pause for her response.
"I thought to wait until—" he stopped himself. "It's no matter. I have the urgent need to remind you exactly how it is between us."
"I already know—" she began, but he was not going to listen. Reed silenced her with another kiss, one that held all the pent-up longing of nearly two months of separation. It deepened with a strong surge of his tongue until Charlotte had to press against his shoulders with her palms to make him let her take in air.
His breathing was as ragged as her own. Leaning on his elbows, he cupped her pale face with both hands; he traced her now red lips with his thumbs, and slowly, she parted them once more, allowing one of his thumbs to slip inside.
She did then what her unleashed sensual nature demanded—she sucked its roughness while his other hand moved down to slip up under her nightdress. Her eyes widened, but she didn't stop her tongue's carnal exploration of his thumb.
As his hand caressed her thigh and then halted at the hot cleft between her legs, she moaned as he'd said she would. Reed cupped her a moment before dipping his finger between the soft folds of her already swollen flesh, stroking the small nubbin that stood erect there, like an island in a sea of moist heat.
Charlotte gasped, closing her eyes at the heady sensation and letting her head fall back with the pleasure of his touch.
With his free hand tangled in the thick strands of her coppery hair, his mouth descended again continuing his sensual assault; his tongue slipped in and out in a perfect mimicry of the finger he now inserted into the slick passage between her leg
s.
"Christ," he said against her lips. "I just want to be inside you, Charlotte."
She nodded, unable to speak, but her eyes opened as he began to unbutton her chemise; she felt his hands tremble, and it matched the trembling in her slender body.
When he'd undone ten of the buttons, he slipped the sheer cotton down over her shoulders and left it bunched at her waist. He kissed her pale shoulder, turning her limbs to jelly.
Then the cool air rushed over her as Reed stood up to undress.
She watched, anticipating every inch of him as it came into view—nearly faint with lust for his touch, his lips, his straining manhood. But she also felt something akin to an ache in her heart. It was a love so intense, so big inside her, she would swear it physically hurt.
He rejoined her on her soft bed, but it could have been the hard earth for all either of them cared. He came into her without hesitation, and she relished the feel of her body clasping his pulsing shaft deep inside her.
When he moved, she moved with him, until the instinctual rhythm of their bodies took over, for she could think no more. She could only hold on as they rode the waves of passion as if on a steed of purest pleasure.
Her head was filled with the smell of him—masculine and clean with a hint of brandy. Her mouth was filled with the taste of him, as she kissed whatever part of his skin came within her reach—his straining shoulders, the pulse at his neck, his firm lips, all the while rubbing her upturned breasts against the dark hair that dusted his chest.
He responded with kisses dropped on her eyelids, her forehead, her lips, her chin, before he bent to nibble the sensitive skin at her neck, and finally to give a last searing kiss to her dusky nipple before she cried out, muffling the sound against his shoulder.
In turn, Reed stifled a groan against her tangled hair as his body shuddered with the final hard thrusts.
They both lay spent, entangled in bed clothes and sweaty limbs. Charlotte thought of it as utter abandonment to pleasure, feeling even more love for this powerful man than she would have thought possible.
The Defiant Hearts Series Box Set Page 30