The doorway opened, and Elsie looked up across the destroyed ballroom, her eyes seeking out the returning party, alighting on Ashmore as he entered the room. On Kit. A tremendous smile reached her mouth at the sight of him. Dishevelled. His dark hair mushed with a ringlet hanging down to reach his left eyebrow. There were smudges on his face, and his previously pristine white shirt was now grey.
“I looked for you outside.” His voice was sore with meaning as he stared back at her.
An almost hungry, animalistic expression consumed him as he strode forward towards her. Elsie braced herself. She knew what was coming before he reached her, and yet when his hands snatched for her, dragging her close, Elsie realised nothing would have been preparation enough for the onslaught. She wanted him, and now he was pressing his hands over the shape of her gown, feeling her bones, shape and that she was alive.
“But I couldn’t find you,” he said. “I needed you. And looked but…” Words seemed to fail him, so instead he locked his hands on either side of her face forcing her to look up into his face. The feel of Ashmore’s fingers sank into her skin, both reassuring and arousing. Ashmore had such a ferocious expression it almost daunted her—and Elsie had to remind herself she wanted him, wanting this passion finally unleashed.
When his mouth descended on hers, Elsie let out a moan. This was what she had dreamt of. This man. This dark, unknown who would only show her some small aspect of himself, yet it was enough for her to want him.
Kit’s kiss was all-consuming. He claimed her. Burning away any memories of any other man she kissed. When his tongue pushed past her teeth, she tasted him—warm and sensual—and asintense as his claiming kiss was, it left her in no doubt this would only end in one outcome. He meant to have her. Which was just as well as she wanted him. She lifted her hands and sank her fingers into his thick curling hair pulling him closer. The moment jogged them, and as a struggling pair, they fumbled their way back—any elegance or grace was gone, swept away by a sheer need for one another, and when the momentum was done Elsie landed up against the rear of the ballroom, Ashmore pressed against her. His hands swept over her body, clutching briefly with strong, possessive hands until Elsie was lightheaded with desire.
Kit pulled his mouth free, his pale eyes assessing her face. “Yes, are you certain?”
“What would you say if I told you to stop?”
“I’d walk away.”
“That easily?” Elsie asked as if her voice was not quite her own, warmed by want and alight with a teasing flirtatious note she barely recognised. This was her as a wanton—the very creature her grandmother had accused her of being, but now Elsie liked who she was, revelling in the feeling of lust and being wanted.
“I didn’t say it would be easy.” He pushed a curl off her face and dropped a quick sweet kiss down onto her lips. “For either of us.”
Laughing up at him, Elsie kissed him back and her hands sought out the buttons of his shirt eager to see him. To feel the strength of his shoulders, his muscles tensed as she touched him. Better yet to lean in close and lick him. Consume him. He was right. It wouldn’t be easy to walk away, which was why she was relieved they wouldn’t be. This tension, this knot of awareness would be quenched this evening. It would take more than a ruined party, a burning crashing chandelier, hell even a curse to come between them.
His mouth had dropped to her collarbone, leaving a string of kissing there, as he to tangled with some of her laces, loosening her gown so that he could touch and stroke more of her exposedskin. With every inch of her exposed Elsie felt more alive. Kit was doing this to her, and yet she was made into so much more by it.
“I need…” his words were desperate as his hands skimmed between her skirts, seeking out the heat between her legs.
Earnestly Elsie nodded, urging him on until his fingers grazed her drawers, parting the material to stroke her curls, which elicited an eager cry from her. She clung to him as Kit angled her more precisely against the wall. A delicious thought came to her—they would consummate their connection, right here up against the wall. He touched her again, his hand claiming her, whilst the other loosened the folds of his trousers.
In the dim moonlight, Kit’s eyes studied her face. “Yes, Elsie?”
She thought, suddenly wondering if this was that the first time he’d called her by her Christian name, and it warmed her heart. “Yes,” she said.A hundred times yes,she repeated to herself as she threw herself into their kiss.
CHAPTER 16
He was done denying this. Done avoiding Elsie around the manor house because the truth was, he could no longer resist her. It hadn’t done any good staying away from her; she had haunted him regardless. And now he could luxuriate in holding her, kissing, caressing her skin and tasting the softness of her. It fed him, filling him with the sort of hot passion that thrummed through his chest—spurring on a hunger that he’d kept buried for far too long, and he felt like a caged beast now he was let loose. Elsie’s dress was pushed up, her drawers ripped, his fingers pressing into her—laying claim in a way he’d denied himself.
Her lips melded with his, encouraging him on, and her small hands clung to his shoulders as he pushed her more entirely flat against the wall. All the niceties of a formal bed, of making love in a proper setting fled from him, leaving just an overwhelming drive for her body.
Moving both of his hands to her hips he steadied her, the differences in their heights no longer mattering now she was pinned against him. Her body had already been riding his fingers, and when he shifted them out of the way, he heard her groan.
“God,” he muttered.
Her eyes shot open, fixating on him. “You were what I was imagining when you walked in on me.”
The dim light in the ballroom showed her bright eyes, awareness flared in him, back to the moment he’d entered her bedroom—and the suspicion of what he’d walked in on.
“Only the one time?” he asked, given the countless times he’d indulged in the privacy of his own chamber, and pleasure flared within him when Elsie shook her head. “I’ve imagined this.” He pressed himself forward, his cock brushing against her curls, inches from entering her. “Pictured it again and again, longed for it…”Until I thought I was going mad from it, Kit thought the last part, not ready to say it aloud.
“It doesn’t have to be imaginary anymore.” Elsie gasped. Her head thrown back against the wall, her chignon loose around her shoulders, the tops of her evening gown bagging to reveal the tops of her breasts. Even in the groggy moonlight, he could see her flush.
Lifting her slightly, Kit adjusted himself more firmly against her, pleased to feel the soft wetness of her need urging him on.
Elsie’s hands clung to his shoulders, eagerly encouraging him until he found the right position and slid inside her, taking her, holding her, and claiming her in turn. Any resistance or barrier he might have envisioned occurred to him briefly before the overwhelming need swarmed him, leaving no time or space for such thoughts—just with the drive to be sated. And to sate her too.
His movements as he pinned her to the wall started with an earnest ferocity, claiming and surging, the hot tightening of her holding him before he moved again, seemed to create between the two of them an uneven, lustful dance. Their breaths were heated, desperate, and lacking in anything beyond the sheer pressure of want. He surged into her with as much skill as he could manage, delighted to see colour flare brightly across her face, and watch as Elsie’s eyes flew wide, her throat worked, and she gaspedout a moan. The tension in her body hardened, and then she cried out loudly as her limbs wobbled against his, lost to a world of sensation.
Suddenly her hand came out, pressing against his partly clothed chest, and he paused in his rocking, to gaze at her, the desire rumbling in him, riding his innards to finish in her.
