She sniffed and looked at him again, donning an expression of extreme indifference that didn’t fool him for a second, sending his exultation rising higher. “Not in the least.”
“No?” he asked, unable to stop the grin that spread across his face. “Then why did you come to ask me this in the middle of the night? Why…”
He paused, his voice going dry and his grin fading away as his gaze slid down to her bare toes peeking out from beneath the frothy hem of her nightdress. It was a sight he knew he might not see again for quite some time, if ever. But at least he now knew that she cared about him. That was a start. “If you’re not jealous, why are you here, dressed like that?”
She made a scoffing sound, all her feminine pride plain to see. “You think I came because I want to show you how much more alluring I am than some courtesan in St. John’s Wood? You’re dreaming.”
One kiss, he thought. It wouldn’t be fair to take it to full completion, at least not for him, not until after she knew the truth. But a kiss, he told himself, was different; they’d already crossed that bridge and then some.
“Perhaps.” He lifted his hands to cup her face. “But if I am dreaming, for God’s sake, don’t wake me up yet.”
With that, he bent his head and kissed her.
16
Her lips were as warm and soft as they’d been a few days ago, but hotter, somehow, and sweeter. So, so sweet. Her lips parted beneath his, her tongue touched his, and he groaned into her mouth, sliding his arms around her, tightening his hold until her body was pressed fully against his own.
The desire he’d been trying so desperately to curb, desire he’d tried to keep at bay by staying away last night, was rushing through him now, through every cell and nerve of his body. His heart was pounding so hard in his chest that it sounded like a trip-hammer.
But past all that, he heard a door open in the distance—the doors of the lift, he realized vaguely—and then voices, echoing softly around the corner and along the corridor where they stood, reminding him that he had to stop now, while he still could.
He tore his mouth from hers. “You’ve got to go,” he muttered, grasping for sanity. “We can’t stand here making love in the corridor.”
Instead of answering, she reached around him with one hand and opened the door, while her other hand flattened against his chest. “Good thing we have a room then, isn’t it?” she whispered, pushing him to urge him backward.
He shook his head vehemently and didn’t move. “Not now. Not yet.”
“So you do have a mistress, then?” She rose on her toes and kissed him, sending his resolve tilting dangerously sideways.
“What? No.” He grabbed her arms. “Delia, we can’t do this. It wouldn’t be right. I’d be taking advantage of you. You don’t know—”
“Really, Simon,” she interrupted, a soft, grumbling sigh as she kissed his chin, “all these rejections are beginning to hurt my pride.”
This reminder that he’d been blowing hot and cold with her from the beginning added a hint of guilt to the quixotic mix of his emotions, but before he could reply or pull away, she spoke again. “Your sense of morality is quite honorable and one of your most endearing qualities, but you really needn’t worry.” She paused, her arms tightening around his neck as she kissed him again. “I’ll still respect you in the morning.”
The voices around the corner grew louder, coming closer, and this time, when she steered him backward, he gave ground, stepping backward into the room before anyone could see them. Delia followed him, closing the door behind them, and as it clicked into place, he cursed himself for thinking kissing her once and saying goodnight would ever work. Where Delia was concerned, his oh-so-laudable morality, along with his restraint and good sense, went straight out the window.
Valiantly, he tried again. “Delia, listen to me. We can’t do this.”
She sank back on her heels with a sigh. “Why not?”
“Because I’m in love with you, that’s why. And if—”
“What?” She stared at him as if he’d just grown a second head. “You are?”
“Yes. You see—” He broke off, watching as a radiant smile lit her face, and he forgot completely what he’d been about to say next.
“How marvelous,” she said, her hands sliding up his chest, her arms winding round his neck.
“Is it?” His voice was strangled, desperate, and his arousal wasgrowing impossible to contain. “It doesn’t feel marvelous to me. It’s been hell, if you want to know the truth.”
“Goodness, as bad as that?”
“And if I take advantage of you this way now, it’ll be worse, because you’ll never fall in love with me.”
“Oh, well, it’s too late to worry about that,” she said as she rose on her toes and began pressing kisses to his lips, his chin, his neck. “That particular deed’s already done, I’m afraid.”
“What?” He pulled back, staring at her askance, not sure if he could believe his own ears.
