“It’s Georgie,” he said, kissing her throat. “Ignore him.”
“Vi!”
“I can’t ignore him.” She pushed King back, and he moved away with a sigh.
Violet went to the door and pulled it open. “What is it, Georgie? Did you hear something?”
“No,” Joshua answered. “He just realized you didn’t read him a story or kiss him goodnight.”
“I might have known it would be something important,” King said.
“Itisimportant.”
But King had already crossed to the bed where Georgie slept and lifted the one book she possessed. It was a worn copyof Gulliver’s Travels. “Should I wait up for you?” he asked.
Violet bit her lip.
“Never mind. I can already see you thinking. In five minutes you’ll have a dozen reasons why this”—he gestured between them—“was a mistake.”
“Itisa mistake. We’ll regret it in the morning. We—”
“Vi!”
“Goodnight, Violet Baker,” King said, leaning forward and kissing her cheek. “Thank you for the bed.”
He moved away, shedding his coat with a groan as he headed for her closet. Part of her wanted to go after him, but she turned and started down the stairs.
Half an hour later, she’d read a chapter, kissed both boys—even though Joshua pretended to hate it—checked all the doors again, and finally trudged back upstairs. The flat was cold, but she didn’t want to waste coal, so she undressed quickly, washed, and climbed under the covers on the boys’ bed. The room to her closet was closed, and she imagined King was asleep by now. She could hear his soft, regular breathing. For her part, sleep eluded her. She stared at the ceiling and thought about how Ferryman might punish her for not going to the Black Bear tonight, not paying her taxes, daring to challenge him.
She rose, went to the window of the flat, and looked out. The night was as foggy as the day had been, but she didn’t see anyone loitering about. No sign of lamps moving through the gray mist.All was silent, but she knew somewhere out there Ferryman was fuming and plotting.
She should have never listened to King. If she went now, would Ferryman forgive her?
She snorted. He’d most likely take his payment, beat her bloody, and demand more. He would never be satisfied, and he would only torment her until he destroyed her. She had to fight back. Now that King was here, she had a chance.
Violet went back to bed and closed her eyes, then was promptly assailed by the image of King’s scraped knuckles on the buttons of her bodice, his mouth on her throat, his bruised hand cupping her breast.
She rolled over and remembered the feel of his warm breath on her skin and the hard muscles of his body against her own. Then there was the thick bulge of his cock against her belly. The heat she’d felt earlier rushed back, and she squeezed her legs together to quell the desire pooling there. Under the covers, she slid her hands to her breasts, which were tender to her touch. The hard buds of her nipples ached when she pushed down her shift and fondled them. She wanted King’s mouth on them. Her other hand slid down to her sex, which was wet with need.
“You’ll regret this,” she muttered to herself as she slid a finger over the swollen bud between her legs. “You’ll look at him tomorrow and everything will be awkward.” She let out a low moan as she circled one finger over that yearning, sensitive part of her.
Violet pushed the covers of the bed back and padded to the closet where King slept. She opened the door quietly. If he didn’t wake, she’d go back to bed. But as soon as the door opened, he said, “Violet?”
“It’s me.”
“What’s wrong?”
She heard the covers move and could just make out the shape of him turning toward her.
“Nothing. Everything is fine. I just—” What was she supposed to do? Tell him she’d come to ravish him?
The silence hung between them for a moment, and Violet considered ending her embarrassment and just going back to bed. But she stood there, trying to work up the courage to say the words. Finally, she swallowed. “I want you,” she said, so quietly she wasn’t certain he heard.
“Thank God.” He reached out and took her hand, pulling her inside the room. “Close the door behind you.”
She pushed it closed, and then he tugged her onto the bed. Her hands came down on his chest—his bare chest—and she inhaled sharply. “You’re half-naked.”
“Not half,” he said. “But let’s get you naked.” His hands were on her waist, fumbling with her shift. He’d never get it off that way. “Damn, but I wanted to see you naked.”
