Selby’s eyes burned into hers. ‘Not yet.’
He stepped forward.
The next few seconds were deeply confusing. Instead of hard wooden floorboards under Brenda’s feet, there was suddenly empty air; the world was a dizzying, terrifying fall into nothingness. Nothingness that became a soft, fluffy landing; a landing that knocked the breath from her, the fear from her, wrapping her in a wool and goose-feather nest.
She was still holding Selby’s hand. Holding it much, much tighter than before, in fact. Selby, who was lying next to her in the strange, soft place where they had landed. Why, it almost felt like a bed…
Oh.
‘Oh, Lord.’ Brenda, a hand held to her mouth, looked up at the open trap-door. ‘We are in the second bedroom. In the second bed. I… I believe we may have discovered how our host’s erstwhile ancestor performed his trick.’
A hidden trap-door.’ Selby’s voice was a mixture of confusion and admiration. ‘Simple, and effective.’
‘And largely undetectable, if it depended on the weight. No wonder His Grace did not find it.’ Brenda looked up at the ceiling, one hand idly creeping to her chin. Winston was staring down at her, his small canine face unaccountably smug—a single yap, and he waddled off, back into the darkness of the attic. ‘One person would not be heavy enough to make it drop. Two… two people would be needed…’
The reality of the situation settled on her by degrees. She was in a bed, with James Selby… James Selby, who had chased her through the attic with a swift, animal hunger that had thrilled her…
James Selby, whose body was pressed brazenly tight against hers. Strong, and lean, and full of a power that she could feel radiating through her own centre…
‘I should move away.’ Brenda wasn’t expecting to say the words out loud. She definitely wasn’t expecting her own voice to sound so doubtful, as if hoping to be convinced of a different outcome. ‘I… I should leave immediately.’
‘Yes. You should.’ But Selby’s arm was already moving to encircle her waist; how good he smelled, how clean and potent and exciting. So exciting that Brenda couldn’t suppress a small, dreamy sigh of pleasure. ‘And I should move away as well. Immediately.’
‘No.’ Brenda couldn’t stop herself; she bit her lip, wishing she could stop her hand as it crept along the linen of Selby’s shirt-sleeve. Touching him, feeling him touch her, was more illicitly thrilling than anything she had ever felt. ‘I mean, yes, of course, but… no…’
Her voice trailing away, she stared into Selby’s eyes. No man had ever stared at her as if she were the most magnificent, exquisite creature in the world—as if her very presence was something astonishing. Something sacred.
'Or… or we can stay for just a little while, Miss Hartwell.' Selby's voice was not the smooth, unhurried purr of the practiced seducer; if anything, he sounded decidedly rough. As if she, Brenda Hartwell, held all the power. 'Please, let us consider destiny for a… for a very little while.'
'I...' When had the world ever been so soft, so fragrant, so infinitely pleasant? This had to exist outside of time; outside of the natural order of things. That way she could simply rest her head against the pillows, lips parted, and enjoy the pleasure that had already begun to flow through her in sweet, delirious waves.
‘Well?’ Selby gently pressed his forehead to hers; the new contact, the intimacy of it, thrilled her. ‘Do you agree?’
‘Your Grace…’ Brenda tilted her head upward, her lips a hairs-breadth away from his. ‘I will give destiny my full consideration.’
Full consideration. If Brenda Hartwell knew how wildly attractive she was when she said those words, Selby had no doubt that she would have been happily married five Seasons ago. As it was, she was in his arms—and there was no better outcome, none at all, in his opinion. In his arms, in a very unexpected bed, and in a mood to welcome destiny.
He knew there was a set pattern that he was meant to follow. Compliments, gentle stroking of the face—kisses, eventually. But Selby found himself so shocked by the fall from the attic, and so exquisitely alive at the prospect of being close to Brenda, that he forgot in what order he was meant to act.
He kissed Brenda Hartwell. Kissed her deeply, lengthily, honestly; a kiss that sent a shuddering wrench of desire through his core. Reaching up to cup her face, marvelling at its softness, he coaxed her tongue to stroke against his own as he took in the pleasures of her mouth, her sighs against his lips, her ripe curves pressed lushly against his body. Only when he pulled away, panting, did Selby remember that he wasn’t meant to begin quite so forcefully.
Oh, hell. Brenda’s fingers were curled tightly around his neck, pulling his mouth back to hers; she didn’t seem to mind, not at all. Selby, tracing the edge of Brenda’s full lips with with tongue, let his blazing need for her rule his actions.
He couldn’t spend forever at her mouth. Not when the rest of her body called to him so strongly. With a final, lingering kiss of her lips, his tongue stroking the roof of her mouth as a savage ache hardened his cock, Selby moved to the long white line of Brenda’s neck.
‘Ah!’ Brenda’s gasping cry inflamed him as he kissed her neck, running his tongue over her skin, grazing his teeth against her delicate flesh. ‘I… oh.’
‘Destiny behoves me to compliment you.’ Selby kissed her neck again, smiling as Brenda’s eyelids fluttered with pleasure. ‘Lavishly, and in a detailed manner.’
‘Oh yes?’ The slight touch of sarcasm in Brenda’s voice only inflamed him further. ‘Some learned expressions of delight concerning my hair, my eyes, the turn of my ankles…’
As a matter of fact, Selby had been going to compliment her appearance. There was more than enough to compliment; he had composed silent rhapsodies concerning her hair, her lips, the soft swell of her breasts. Looking down at her, though, he found himself saying words that came from a much deeper and more honest place.
‘You are so witty. So clever, and so kind. Kindness upon kindness, and honest words, and courage that is as rare as it is lovely.’
‘My goodness.’ Brenda’s eyes widened. ‘Are… are those the compliments one normally pays, when briefly surrendering to destiny?’
Selby swallowed. The convenient lie failed him. ‘… No.’
Brenda did not answer. But her next kiss, full of a searching passion that brought a moan to Selby’s lips, gave him all the answer that he needed.
If he had felt even the slightest amount of reticence before, of shyness, it was gone now. Her mouth was his; he had taken slow, skilful possession of it, their kisses deeper and more full of open longing by the minute. Her body was his too, he knew it; he could feel her quivering as he lavished kisses on her neck and shoulders, leaving her flesh reddened, the shape of her nipples visible through the bodice of her dress as they hardened. God, her breasts—Selby brought his hands to them, brazen as he cupped them in his palms, gently running his thumbs over her nipples. Brenda’s surprised cry, the way she looked at him, only spurred him onward.
‘Destiny compels me.’ He ran his thumbs more deliberately over her nipples, circling them, feeling her shudder with pleasure. ‘Does it compel you?’
‘Yes.’ Brenda nodded frantically; Selby bent his head to her breasts, kissing her through the fabric of her dress, unable to wait any longer. ‘I… oh, please.’
Her words were music to Selby’s ears. Taking firm hold of her dress, thanking the Lord that Brenda wore freer garments than the vast majority of well-bred ladies, he pulled the gown downward to reveal her bare chest. He took in the sight of her, dark-eyed, blushing, breasts rising and falling at the sensation of it all, and couldn’t resist a low growl of pleasure.
‘My God.’ His cock ached to be touched. ‘You are beautiful.’
‘Kiss me again.’ Brenda’s tone was equal parts impetuous and shy. ‘As you did before.’
Selby couldn’t resist smiling. ‘I am only too happy to oblige.’
Full of lust, full of hunger, he moved back to her bared b
reasts. Once again, he knew that he should begin gently—but who wanted to be gentle, to be cautious, when deep kisses were called for? Hands and tongue working in tandem, coaxing and stroking and licking his way over the soft, deep swell of her breasts, he eventually drew one rose-flushed nipple into his mouth with a deep moan of want.
‘Ah!’ Brenda looked down at him, her cheeks rosy, her lips parted. ‘Can one—can one really—’
‘Yes.’ Selby pressed his tongue to her nipple, working in ruthless, rhythmic tugs as he watched Brenda dissolve into soft sighs of pleasure. ‘Yes, one can.’
Time slipped through his fingers, ceasing to matter at all, as he made love to her. Who knew or cared how long he spent kissing her; minutes, or hours? Hours, or days? Years, perhaps; years of loving her, of licking and sucking and teasing her until she collapsed into happy cries of bliss—yes, it had to be years. That would explain why making love to her felt so familiar; as if he was taking part in a long-ago recollection, a future exploration, all at the same time.
Familiar had never felt so thoroughly exciting. Familiar had never had him moaning openly as he kissed; his cock threatening to rip through his breeches, his body trembling with uncommon want. Every part of Brenda felt as if he had caressed it a thousand times, but never truly held it at all; her thigh, for example, pale and soft and tensing as his palm rested against it, moving higher, her core damp and hot and waiting for him.
‘Ohhh.’ Brenda’s soft, slow sigh of need was exactly what he craved. He held his hand to her mound, learning the feel of it; how warm she was, how her curls tickled his palm. How wet she was as he slowly parted her lips, feeling with a delicious shock how ready she was for his touch.
God, he wanted to kiss every part of her. Every single inch. Selby stroked along her lips again, feeling her thighs quiver, watching Brenda’s face as she shivered with new pleasure.
‘I very much wish to kiss you here.’ He let his fingers rest at her bud, gently pressing it; Brenda’s sudden, sharp cry of bliss made his rigid cock twitch in his breeches. ‘I crave it.’
‘I… I did not think that could be done.’ Brenda’s slightly wondering tone unmanned him completely. ‘Excuse my lack of knowledge. I—I do not know if I am ready.’
‘You have nothing to excuse. Nothing.’Selby let his fingers flicker over her bud again, taking deep delight in the way Brenda gasped at his touch. ‘I shall kiss you here next time, if you are ready. I shall spend hours.’
‘... Next time?’ Brenda’s sudden, anxious look sent a cold spear through Selby. ‘What do you mean?’
She didn’t expect a next time. Perhaps didn’t want a next time. Selby, swallowing, cast his new hopes as far away from him as possible.
This could be discussed. This could be saved—but not now. Not when there was pleasure to give her. His pleasure was irrelevant; only hers mattered, bringing it to life, making it grow.
‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’ He stroked her deeper this time, his fingers curling at her entrance; Brenda gasped. ‘Just… just feel. Feel everything.’
With renewed purpose, he bent his head back to her breasts. Slowly, paying deep attention to every part of Brenda as she tensed, then relaxed, he pulled a nipple into his mouth as he slid two fingers inside of her. The effect was immediate; Brenda tightened around him, drawing his fingers deeper, the wondering gasp on her lips becoming a pure, arched cry of pleasure.
Yes. Selby began to stroke her inner walls, his mouth tight on her breast. Feel everything.
It took a little while for his fears to subside; his hopes, his dreams, ones that he hadn’t realised he possessed until beginning this strange journey. The only thing he could do was focus intensely on Brenda; on her tightly shut eyes, her furrowed brow, the sweet music of sighs and moans and gasps that fell from her as he curled at her inner walls, moving from one breast to the other as he licked and sucked. Soon, as Brenda trembled under his hands, Selby realised that he had succumbed to desire as completely and utterly as she had.
He had never finished without touching himself. He hadn’t thought it possible. But hearing Brenda’s soft, sweet cries of pleasure as she grew closer to her peak, her core tightening around his fingers again and again as he coaxed her to climax, had Selby biting his lip as his cock pulsed with violent, unimaginable bliss.
‘I…’ Brenda’s voice was faint, broken by cries as her back arched. ‘Something is—something is happening.’
‘I know, my darling. I can feel you.’ Selby bent to kiss her, stroking his tongue along the roof of her mouth, gasping as Brenda clenched her thighs with a moan of pleasure. ‘Let it come. Let it come.’
Stroking faster, deeper, obeying the mute demands of Brenda’s body as she bucked and writhed, he bent his head to her breasts. Giving in to his basest urges, not knowing whether to kiss, lick, bite or all three, he found himself moaning with her as she finally reached her peak.
‘Yes.’ He whispered it to her skin, her high pink blush as she came undone in his arms. She was hot, wet, tight; she was everything, had always been everything, would be his everything from this day onward. ‘Yes, come, come for me…’
Come for me. Come for me, my love, and stay with me.
After such a long, shattering moment of rapture, it was time to return to earth. Brenda felt as if she were falling from the attic again, far more slowly this time, landing in the welcoming shelter of Selby’s arms. She lay still, silent, trying to piece together what remained of the Brenda Hartwell who had begun the day with no idea of what would occur.
‘You are so very beautiful.’ Selby’s kisses fell on her like sweet, gentle rain; her lips, her cheeks, her eyelids. The hollow of her throat, which tingled with pleasure as he touched it. ‘So, so beautiful.’
This wasn’t how Brenda had imagined a half-finished seduction, especially one that she herself had interrupted. He had wanted to kiss her in such an unorthodox place; it would have felt wrong to agree. Ladies were meant to feel cheap and silly; gentlemen, if they had any feelings on the matter at all, were meant to be overcome with callous melancholy.
Selby did not seem melancholy. He was holding her as if she were the only person in the world, his face, full of a soft wistfulness, was almost as pleasurable as his mouth on hers. And as for feeling cheap and silly… Brenda couldn’t remember the last time she felt so honoured. So safe.
This meant, of course, that she was in terrible danger.
How much had she fought—how much had she sacrificed of her old self, her old ways of life, only to end up in the arms of a gentleman? All of her fine thoughts of independence, of self-reliance, of becoming truly herself… why, she had done so much patient, laborious work, for it all to come to nothing.
It didn’t feel like nothing, of course. It felt like everything in the world, lying in a haze of pleasure, Selby cradling her in his arms. But the Devil was meant to be attractive; the only thing she hadn’t realised was just how divinely attractive he could be.
With a slow, deep breath, gathering her courage, she sat up. At first Selby’s hands trailed over her back, her arms, attempting to keep her where she lay—but as she began stiffly wrapping her dress about her, Brenda felt his touch fade away.
He knew. He already understood everything. Brenda didn’t want to look at him, didn’t want to feel the pain already lancing her heart… but duty, honour, compelled her.
‘Thank you.’ She looked once into his eyes, before looking away. ‘This… this has been most enlightening, Your Grace, when it comes to destiny.’
‘James.’ Selby’s voice was dark with feeling. ‘Please, give me the decency of using my name.’
‘I cannot call you by your name.’
‘You can.’ Selby reached for her hand, taking it; Brenda gasped at the feel of his palm, the way his fingers stroked her own. Feeling such weakness at the touch of a man’s hand was not, not to be borne. ‘You can call me anything you like. You can do whatever you wish to me.’
‘That is not true.’
&
nbsp; ‘You wish it were not true.’ Selby’s eyes were devastating. ‘But it is.’
It was too much. Everything was too much. The touch of his hand was too much; the pleasure he had given her, rich and strong and strange, was too much. The agony that Brenda felt when she thought of leaving him—oh, that was much too much, far too much, and therefore the only thing she could do.
Being twinned with someone felt more spectacular than she had ever imagined. But being twinned was being caged, and she would never put herself in a cage again. Not even if it felt like the most wonderful, delicious thing in the world.
She pulled her hand away. Selby clenched his hand into a fist; a small sound escaped him, half-growl, half-sigh, and Brenda knew she would cry if he said another word.
‘I shall take my leave, now.’ She moved away from him, walking to the door on unsteady feet. ‘And—and this will not occur again, no matter what temptations destiny offers us.’
She half-expected Selby to object. Hoped for it, in fact. When nothing came, not even as she closed the door behind her, Brenda’s eyes filled with hopeless tears.
Selby had often given thanks for his stony face; a lack of expression was an essential part of every spy’s tool-kit. He used it to its full extent as he sat through dinner, then a game of whist, then seemingly innumerable games of billiards until the rest of the gentlemen were yawning. As evening became night, the staff bleary-eyed and most of the ladies retiring to bed, he went to the kitchens as quickly and quietly as he could.
It was Matilda’s custom to take a cup of warm milk before bed. It was one of the many things he knew about his friend; his sunny comrade, who he could treat like a younger brother without any sense of falseness or guilt. The time had come to speak to her about Miss Hartwell—and from the confused but happy look on Matilda’s face as she entered the kitchen, she was eager to speak of anything at all.
He had spoken to Matilda about any number of things over the course of their singular friendship, things that gentlemen and ladies were not to meant to discuss… but Brenda, and what he felt about Brenda, had felt too strange and sacred to discuss with his closest friend.
Private Passions Page 113