Jaded (16 page)

Byron took Alek’s arm and led him out. “We’ll give you some privacy to get started.”

After they’d gone, Lilya stepped up to the blank canvas and stared at it, cold fear making a fist in her stomach. What sort of new mark should she make on that pristine piece of paper? It felt more important than simply a challenge of creativity. It felt like a fresh start.

A
lek looked up when Lilya slid in next to him at the table in the library that was now strewn with books and papers. Over the last few days, he’d been more focused on finding interesting tidbits from history to teach Lilya than he had been on his own studies. It was the first time in a long while that he’d been distracted from his work.

To complete his degree, he needed to write what amounted to an entire book on the ramifications of the Meteo-Orusian War of 1230, yet that endeavor had been tossed aside in his quest to please her. Her comment that he made history amusing to learn had clearly gone straight to his ego. More important, he was worried about disappointing her. A disconcerting reaction indeed.

She smiled at him, her face freshly scrubbed and rosy from her bath. “Morning.”

The scent of her soap wafted toward him and he had to stop himself from inhaling deeply. He wondered if she’d spent her night in Byron’s bed, and he found himself unaccountably annoyed by the possibility. He had no claim over her. No right to be annoyed.

“Morning. Have you eaten?”

“Yes. A sweet biscuit with butter and a cup of coffee. Byron may not be able to bake, but his cook certainly can. I’m well fed and ready to learn.” She picked up the book they’d been working from.

All suspicion that she was just acting interested in history to get closer to him had disappeared a long time ago. Lilya would need to be a consummate actress to be feigning her enthusiasm for the subject. She had a bright and eager mind. It was a true shame that her younger years had gone the way they had. Even poor, with a mind like hers, the university would likely have welcomed her with open arms. She could have been anything.

She pressed her lips together as she opened the book and found the place where they’d left off the day before. His gaze lingered on the curve of her cheek and her mouth. He enjoyed kissing her very much.

Of course, Byron had the privilege whenever he wished.

The house was large and the walls were thick, yet he was certain that she and Byron were intimate most every night. And the way they looked at each other—when they thought the other wasn’t looking—had not gone unnoticed by him. For a woman that Byron proclaimed could never fall in love, she certainly looked headed that direction. Although the couple times he’d said as much to Byron, he’d shut him down.

Byron thought he knew Lilya so well; but Alek wasn’t so certain. Perhaps Lilya wasn’t as emotionally broken as he presumed.

Perhaps it was wrong that Alek felt a little jealous over the way they looked at each other, but it was only because he remembered feeling that way once. In an ocean of women he’d found one that matched him . . . and then he’d lost her. The ache of that loss was an ever-present thing inside his chest. The only thing that ever eased it was immersing himself in his studies. They reminded him of her. They provided him with an escape, a numbing balm for his aching soul.

“Alek? Are you all right?” A hand touched his shoulder.

He blinked and saw Lilya frowning at him.

“You went somewhere far away just then. I said your name three times and received no response.”

He cleared his throat and looked down at the text of the book she’d opened. Suddenly he didn’t feel like making history amusing for Lilya. Right now he wanted to be alone, immerse himself in the history books of Rylisk and transport himself to another time when his life had been lighter. Yet, he’d promised her. “I’m fine. Let’s get started. We’ll begin with this treatise on the Edaeii family tree. Do you want to begin?”

She stopped frowning at him and focused on the page, moving a little closer to him. So close their bodies touched. He gritted his teeth, but not because he minded the contact. On the contrary. There was one other activity that could take his mind off painful memories, one he only barely held himself back from initiating with Lilya on a daily basis.

She began, “In the middle part of the third reign of Queen Astrid and King Nicholas . . .”

Alek knew the words by heart, so he allowed her voice to fade away in his mind and he studied her instead. She was one of the loveliest women he’d ever seen. For her, probably more curse than blessing, considering the trouble she’d had in her life. But there was much more to this woman than a pretty face. He was coming to see that and appreciate it. Every new thing he learned about her made him want to learn more.

In a way, perhaps his love of study had transferred to her. She was a mystery he definitely wanted to explore.

He hated it when Byron was right. Alek was growing more and more enamored of this woman and not just purely in a physical way. Although, right now, as he watched her full lips form the words she read from the book, his mind was on all the physical ways he wanted her.

It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman. Years and years. Too long, perhaps. Maybe men weren’t meant to go so long without satisfying their urges.

His gaze strayed over the milky skin of her slender neck to the bodice of her gown. She never dressed to show off her breasts. He knew librarians who wore a lower décolleté on their gowns. Her fashion was stylish but conservative. Maybe she understood that less could be more, that the slight hint of the curves of her breasts at the top of her garments made a man wonder what she’d look like completely bare. Her breasts weren’t large, but they were more than enough to cup in his hand and lick. He wondered what her nipples looked like. Were they as pale a color as her skin, or were they rosy red?

How would her sex feel? Hot and slick? Tight and welcoming? Would she moan if he slid inside her? Could he make her come, and, if he could, what would she sound like?

He wondered what would happen if he touched her. Would she let him or slap him away? Judging from the way she’d reacted to his kisses so far, he suspected she would welcome his advances. But would she truly want him? Or would she just be doing the job that Byron had brought her here to do?

In that moment, with his cock straining against the zipper of his pants, he wasn’t sure he even cared. He just wanted her. He wanted to quit fighting the attraction he had to her and let go. He wanted answers to all those questions, like the scholar he was.

He wanted to study her in every way, but most of all right now, he wanted to study her in a very, very carnal way.

He dropped his hand to her thigh to gauge her reaction.

Glancing at him, her words stumbled, but she kept reading. A light blush tinged her cheeks and her voice sounded a little tighter than it had a moment before. Taking those signs as unease, he nearly drew his hand away.

But he couldn’t make himself.

Instead, he took things even further. He bunched her skirts up, drawing them higher until his palm touched flesh. Her skin was warm and smooth. It made a light shudder of want go through him. He’d forgotten how a woman felt, so soft and nice.

She left off reading and swallowed hard. “Alek?” she queried in a trembling voice, looking down at the book.

He leaned in close to her neck and inhaled the scent of her skin. He closed his eyes, letting it waft through his senses. His cock was hard as steel. He murmured near her ear, “If you want me to stop, tell me, and I will. Otherwise, keep reading.”

She did nothing for a moment. Then, licking her lips, she continued, “The Trivac War of 1692 was a turning point for the growing dominion of the Emperor of Haynes. . . .”

She’d basically said she wanted him to touch her, yet her voice still trembled. It fascinated him. She was a courtesan, but nervous about this encounter. Why?

Then it dawned on him.
Of course
. It was because he was controlling things. Because this hadn’t been previously agreed upon and discussed. She hadn’t planned it out. It was spontaneous and he’d put himself in charge.

And he wasn’t Byron.

He slid his hand between her thighs. Her voice caught, but she spread her legs to give him better access. That was good; she trusted him. Otherwise she’d be shutting him out now that it was becoming clear just how far he meant to take this. He’d decided to stop fighting himself—he wanted
all
of her
right now
.

The silk of her panties brushed his fingertips and the heat of her sex warmed his skin when he slid them over her delicate folds through the panel of material covering her cunt. He found her clit through the thin fabric and stroked it softly, pressing and rotating, feeling it swell beneath his touch. Ah, he remembered this, how a woman became aroused. Her breath grew a degree heavier and her voice a tad huskier.

It was hard for him to resist simply moving her chair away from the table, ripping this little piece of almost-nothing off her body, spreading her thighs, and burying his aching cock deep inside her. That’s what he really wanted to do, but he felt she needed this—a sort of tempting, a preparation.

He wanted her to desire him, beg for him. He wanted her to yearn for him the way she yearned for Byron.

Pressing and rotating the swollen nub, he teased her through her panties. Her words fumbled more and more and her cheeks were flushed. He could feel the silk covering her growing warmer and damper. She moved her thighs apart in a welcoming gesture.

Her chest swelled with increasingly labored breathing and he couldn’t resist anymore. Moving his hand from between her thighs, he undid the buttons of her bodice, revealing little by little the delectable mounds of her breasts. When he’d reached her abdomen, he dipped his hand within and drew her breasts out one by one. Her nipples were the pink of a perfect rose and were tight and hard. He rubbed his thumbs over them each, wishing he could taste them.

He realized she’d completely stopped reading and had closed her eyes. Her lips were parted and her breathing came faster.

Leaning in, he nibbled the skin beneath her earlobe and was rewarded with a rush of gooseflesh. “Keep reading,” he whispered.

After a moment, her recitation of the political effects of the Trivac War on the Edaeii family began again, if in a slow, stuttering, completely aroused and distracted fashion. Never had history been so erotic to him.

Abandoning her beautiful breasts for now, he found the waistband of her panties and slid his hand down, finding the sweet, naked flesh of her cunt. She shuddered and tipped her pelvis up, practically begging for him to touch her. He found her clit again and stroked it until her breath caught and she moaned. Then he found her entrance and pressed two fingers deep inside her, up to his second knuckles.

Now it was his turn to shudder with pleasure. She was everything he thought she’d be—tight, hot, and wet from wanting him.

“Alek . . . Alek, please. I can’t read anymore. I need—”

He did too
. He drew away from her, stood up, and pulled her from the chair. Dragging her up against his chest, his mouth found hers. He kissed her hard—lips, tongues, and teeth all at work, as though he intended to devour her.

His tongue forced its way into her hot mouth at the same time his body pressed her backward, looking for somewhere, anywhere to brace her.

 

 

Alek pressed her against the wall, his cock pushing into her stomach. Her body felt on fire from the need he’d catapulted her into. She’d not expected his hands on her this morning, or for his hands do such diabolical things to her body once there. He had known exactly how to touch her to drive her straight to carnal want. From his touch, her sex felt achy with the need to be filled.

He turned her face-first against the wall, making her gasp with surprise. Then he bunched her skirts up to her waist. She closed her eyes, her hands near her face and fisting against the wall. His bare hand moved over the curve of her rear, delving between her thighs for just a moment to feel how hot and wet she’d become.

Yes, she wanted this.

His hand slid around to her bare abdomen and plunged down her panties from the front, between her thighs. His palm covered her sex, the warmth of his skin teasing her. She cried out, her hands splaying in front of her to help brace her.

“Tell me to stop.” His voice was rough against her ear, filled with barely leashed lust. “Tell me to stop and I’ll back away right now.”

“Don’t you dare stop,” she breathed.

His rumble of approval made the fine hair along her body rise. He found her clit and stroked it, making it go large and swollen against his fingertips—pushing her to the edge of a climax. Her breath went ragged and her teeth sank into her lower lip as she fought a whimper of need rising in her throat.