Page 73 of Red Masquerade

His gray eyes shone in the darkness, reflective like a cat’s. Studying me. His dark hair was ruined, the pomade made obsolete.

He twitched within me, and it sent shivers through my stomach. A slow, languid thrust.

“You are exquisite,” he whispered, his own energy spent, his head once more falling to the seat behind him. He tightened his grip on me briefly before brushing my undone hair out of my face.

My slip clung to my skin, damp with the sweat of our passion, the cloth over my breast still wet from his mouth. I wanted to tear it off of me, and tear his clothes off, and fall into a world where we had no obligations save to love each other.

Maybe we could. Maybe that’s what life with him was.

I only smiled languidly in response.

His gaze was suddenly drawn to the window, and there was a flash of recognition in his eyes. “We are here,” he said.

But I didn’t want to leave the warmth of his lap. I tried to get my knees under me, to gain my balance, and my walls squeezed him once more. Though my energy was spent, an ache alreadygrowing in between my legs, the feel of him still stretching my muscles sent pleasure through me.

He braced my hips, helping me move. As I climbed off of him, I immediately felt the absence of him, and a small part within me cried in frustration. The spot between my thighs was slick, and that wetness was already seeping out of me. I pressed my thighs together, my pulse jumping at the thought of the aftermath ofhimwithin me.

There was no party this evening. The lawns were completely empty, save for the trees, the fountain. The car continued up the drive until we were before the massive front doors. Every electric light inside was on, the manor shining bright, maybe even visible from the atmosphere.

He tucked himself back into his pants, his dick not yet completely soft.

It felt sinful, what we just did. I had had many affairs with young men, but something about this evening sent a jolt of excitement through me, as though I was breaking the law. As though I was a heathen, perhaps really the whore my brother said I was. He would certainly think so. Lord Highsmith, too.

Adam and I were not married.

I wasn’t sure if we ever would be. I wasn’t sure what the coming days would look like.

He had insisted I call him Vince. It wasn’t his legal name, at least, not the name of the boy I knew before. He was Adam Vering, and that was it. A printer’s apprentice who had fallen in love with a girl, before being threatened with death by her brother, sent away to the war.

But Vince Thornton had been the man to come back.

“Are you ready, darling?” He grabbed my hand, his fingers warm and strong in mine, and I tamped down the thought of them touching me, spreading me wide.

I nodded, swallowing the small lump in my throat.

He knocked on the divider separating us and the driver—a foresight I am glad occurred to him—and in moments the driver was opening the carriage door to let us out. Even though the driver did not look at us, a blush bloomed on my cheeks. How much of that had he heard? I hadn’t exactly been silent.

God, I should be mortified. A proper lady would.

The wife of a baron would.

Adam—Vince—turned to exit, but I pulled on his hand. “Wait.”

Immediately, he retreated once more to the seat next to me. “What is it?”

Glancing outside, the front door was being opened by another servant, and the interior light spilled out onto the driveway. Another set of footmen stood by the door, waiting.

I knew there were plenty of servants here—there never seemed to be a shortage of them. All watching, observing.

“I’m—” I looked down at myself, my breasts clearly visible through my slip, especially since my skin was yet damp with perspiration. An exhaled laugh. “I can’t walk into the house like this.”

I did not mind exposing myself to him. But I did not want these strangers looking at me. Though they showed no emotion, no recognition at all, almost like automatons, I couldn’t bear the thought of themseeingeverything.

“Ah. Apologies.”

He looked around for his discarded jacket, crumpled on the floor, and pulled it over my shoulders. His figure was so broad that his jacket fell around me like a blanket, swallowing me up.

“Better?”