“You are exasperating,” she finally said.
“Me? Have we ever had a conversation that wasn’t an argument?”
“That’s precisely my point. You, Mr. Crenshaw, are a shrew.”
He laughed out loud. “I’m a shrew?”
She raised her chin in self-righteous indignation.
It was a step too far. “The truth is that you like to provoke me.” He grinned at the startled look that came over her beautiful features, confirming what he had merely suspected. She enjoyed stoking the heat between them as much as he did.
Chapter 15
The demand for equal rights in every vocation of life is just and fair; but, after all, the most vital right is the right to love and be loved.
Emma Goldman
Helena should have felt mortified that Maxwell had found her out. He knew that she intentionally provoked him. If that glint in his eye was any indication, he realized that she got a secret thrill from it. And if she was honest with herself, she was a little embarrassed. However, he was walking toward her with that predatory look in his eyes that sometimes accompanied his stern glower, and butterflies were swarming in her stomach, and she could only think that even as she backed away from him she very much wanted him to catch her.
“Admit it,” he said, an all-knowing smile curving his lips, mixing with his furrowed brow in a way that had her stomach dropping in anticipation. Her back came up against the wall, but he kept coming, raising his arm to press it to the wall above her head, which allowed him to lean over her a bit so she had to look up at him. “You intentionally bait me. You like getting a rise out of me for your own pleasure.”
“Why would I admit to something so ridiculous?” Even she could hear the catch in her voice and how heavily she breathed.
His face relaxed, the glare melting away as his body settled close to hers. Not touching, but almost. Close enough that when she took a deep breath in, the tips of her breasts grazed the lapels of his frock coat, sending shock waves through her.
“Because you want me to kiss you and I won’t until you admit it.”
She opened her mouth to deny it, the residual effects of her earlier anger and disappointment in him tangled with her relief, gratitude, and desire, so that she couldn’t tell one from the other. She couldn’t think. So instead, for once in her life, she decided to only feel, to let her body guide her tongue. What would it hurt just this once?
“I like when you scowl at me. I like how handsome you are when your brow furrows . . .” Hardly understanding what she was doing, she raised her hand up. His eyes narrowed in on it, making that wonderful glower reappear. They might have both stopped breathing as she brought her hand to his face, letting the tips of her fingers touch his furrowed brow and the line etched between his eyebrows. “Here. And how intensely you look at me.”
His eyes were dark and in shadow, so she couldn’t really see them, but she could feel them boring into hers. She could also feel the weight of his gaze when it shifted down to her mouth. She licked her lips in anticipation, but he didn’t move any closer, prompting her to take a deep breath, swaying just the tiniest bit closer to him so that her breasts grazed his chest again. Delightful sparks of yearning shot through her.
“Ask me to kiss you.” His voice was low and harsh, almost a growl.
“You said you would if I admitted it, and I did.”
He grinned, his flash of teeth white in the dark. “I want to hear you say it.”
Indignation was swift to take over. He was asking too much. Rising up onto her toes, she simultaneously wrapped her arms around him to pull him down to her. Their mouths met in a heated exchange, quarreling in a way that went beyond words. The wet heat of his tongue invaded her, taking what he wanted without apology. Not that he had anything to apologize for. She wanted everything he would give to her and wanted to give whatever he would take.
The thought shocked her into immobility. Whatever he would take?
Yes.
“Helena?” Her name came out as a rough groan as he kissed a path to her ear, nipping the tender lobe before trailing openmouthed kisses down her neck.
She couldn’t form words, and her body—true to her earlier conviction—took over, her fingers gripping his hair and holding his mouth to her. He bit the place where her neck met her shoulder, making her yelp before she could stop herself.
He was smirking as he pulled back enough to see her face. “You like rough play.”
She blushed and glanced toward the mantelpiece next to them, anywhere but look at him. Did she? She didn’t know, but she couldn’t deny the thrill that had shot through her at the pleasure-pain of the bite. Her only sexual experiences had been with Arthur, and while her memories of that time were mostly pleasurable, he had never used his teeth. He had never kissed her like this, standing against a wall and tasting her as if he couldn’t get enough.
“Shh . . . don’t be embarrassed.” Maxwell’s voice was soft and uneven against her ear as he rubbed his bearded face gently against her. She closed her eyes and savored the prickling pleasure that radiated from where he touched her. “I can give you what you want.”
“I want you,” she whispered without opening her eyes.
Neither of them moved for a moment as the idea settled between them. Then he shifted slowly, taking hold of her plait and winding it around his hand as he tilted her head back. The slight pull on her overly sensitive nerve endings was nearly ecstasy. Her heart pounded as she stared up into his shadowed face.
He swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple moving down and then up. He lowered his mouth until it closed over hers. This kiss was infinitely gentler, his lips stroking over hers in a slow back-and-forth until she tightened her fingers in his hair and pulled him down for more. He groaned deep in his throat and let his other hand roam down her body. She gasped against his mouth when his palm closed over her breast. He made another low sound, squeezing as if he were testing out the weight and feel of her before dragging his thumb across the tip. Pleasure rushed from her nipple to deep in her core. Releasing her hair, he tugged at the knot on her dressing gown, dragging it open so only the layer of her nightdress separated his hands from her skin. She stifled embarrassment at the sight of her rigid nipples clearly outlined beneath the fabric.
She wasn’t supposed to be this deeply in the throes of arousal. Not here in her drawing room where she served tea once a week to her friends and where her own parents visited with her. But any flare of shame faded as he unhurriedly lowered his head to her breast. She hardly dared breathe as she watched him part his lips. When he dragged his teeth over her nipple in a teasing rhythm that culminated in him biting her, she nearly splintered apart at the bliss.
“Maxwell.” She gasped his name over and over, unable to form any words beyond the one responsible for what was happening to her. In answer, he sucked at her, and she arched into him to get closer to the heat of his mouth.