He didn’t want the case to end, yet he knew they would find the culprit who’d ruined her stock. Everything would change. He would lose her, lose this beautiful, unexplainable thing that flowed between them. He needed no one but his family, but he was beginning to think he might need her.
“Tell me, Eleanor, are plums an aphrodisiac?” He cupped her neck, brushed his lips over hers, pressed a tender kiss to her temple.
Her breath came quickly. Her eyes were the most vibrant shade of green he had ever seen. “I concede. I have never been so aroused.” Driven by the same urgent need for physical contact, her hand glided over his chest in slow, caressing strokes. “Is that the end of the lesson, Theo?”
How could it be?
There was no end to what he would do with her.
“No, love. It’s only the beginning.”
Chapter Twelve
Eleanor looked at him, this fallen angel, as handsome as a celestial being consumed by earthly desires. “You have made your point. What else is there to learn?”
She wished it would take a lifetime of kissing to prove he was right. Damp between her thighs, her sex ached for his touch. Never had she been so reckless. Never had she experienced the potent power of lust.
“How can a lady judge the quality of shoes if she doesn’t wear them?” he replied cryptically. “How can she know if a bonnet fits without trying it on?”
Eleanor narrowed her gaze. The way he wrapped his tongue around every syllable said he had mischief in mind. “What have hats and shoes to do with pleasure?”
“Every experiment needs a conclusion.” His devilish grin said they would kiss again soon. “How can you judge if plums are an aphrodisiac unless you reach the pinnacle of desire?”
“The pinnacle?” she stuttered.
“I need to make you come, Eleanor.”
Her breath caught in her throat.
Shock should have been her first reaction, yet she couldn’t help but admire his honesty. It wasn’t the only thing she admired. She liked how his new coat clung to his biceps, a wrapper for a tempting package. She liked the way candlelight flickered over his chiselled jaw, a sculptor’s masterpiece.
“As an unmarried lady, I attend to my pleasure in the privacy of my chamber.” Two could play his game. “I don’t need a lesson in that.”
The admission had a strange effect on him, a growl rumbling in his throat. “Next time you indulge in wickedness, I hope I’m watching from a chair in a shadowy corner. A whisky in one hand, something hot and hard in the other.” His tongue skimmed the seam of his lips. “Tonight, I have a different goal in mind, something in keeping with the theme of food.”
Eleanor laughed, or else she might faint from a lack of oxygen. “Are you so drunk with desire you cannot form a coherent word? I confess, you have me at a loss.”
“I’m hungry, Eleanor.”
He sounded ravenous.
“Have a piece of plum pie.”
He stepped closer, pressing her back against the card table, their thighs touching. His breath mingled with hers, warm and intoxicating, as his fingers gently brushed a strand of hair from her face. “You’re the only thing I want. Indulge me.” He gestured to the cards on the green baize. “Let’s make a wager. The highest card wins.”
“What are we playing for?” she dared to ask.
“For you. If I’m victorious, you’ll be my personal feast.”
“And if you lose?” She prayed he didn’t.
“You’ll go to bed tense. Restless. Spend a sleepless night wondering what I planned to do.” He bent his head, his mouth brushing hers softly. “Trust me. Turn over a card, love.”
She hesitated.
Her virtue was the only thing she truly owned. Hers to give to a man of her choosing. No one affected her the way he did. No one made her heart thunder like a tempest, wild and unrestrained.
“We’re playing for kisses,” he whispered against her lips. “Intimate kisses. Nothing more. You have my word.”
Curiosity and a deep-rooted need to feel close to this man had her turning over the ten of diamonds. “It will be hard to beat,” she said, trying not to sound deflated.
Theo reached for his card, his confident grin causing a flutter in her belly. “I always play to win. I’d never risk losing something I want so badly.”
With the flick of one finger, he flipped over his card.
The King of Hearts.
Why was she not surprised?
He stole hearts and broke them; that’s what the gossips said. He held hers in the palm of his hand. It was too late to claim it back. And so she would do what she’d sworn to do initially. Trust him.
“I imagine you want to claim your winnings now.”
“Only if you want me to.”
“As you said, a conclusion is crucial to this particular study. Though I fear the effects of the plums have worn off.”
