He stilled. “I am not as certain, but I’ll do my damnedest. Now, tell me why you’ve come to me despite my orders to keep your pretty little nose out of The Sinner’s Palace.”
Here it was at last. Her hands were still on his arms, her fingers clenching on his muscles of their own accord.
She took a deep breath. “I want you to be my partner.”
Chapter 2
Jasper searched the dark eyes, which were fringed with luxurious, long ebony lashes. Surely he had misheard Lady Octavia.
“Partner?” he repeated, part of him incredulous.
Part of him intrigued despite himself.
She never failed to surprise him.
“In my journal,” she added, nodding as if everything she was saying made utter sense.
And mayhap it did. To her.
The woman was queer in the attic.
“Your journal?”
Her smile returned, and damn her if his cock didn’t harden at the combination of her nearness, her hands on him, and the way those siren’s lips curved.
“Yes,” she said agreeably.
“There ain’t a journal, Lady Octavia.”
“Not yet.” Once more, she nodded. “But there will be.”
“No,” he said slowly, “what there will be is a visit to your sister and her husband from me, explaining to them you’ve been running wild all across the East End.”
“That would be a dreadful idea, Sutton.”
The bold minx.
He was not sure which he wanted to do more, haul her into his arms and cart her from his office, or kiss her.
So he kissed her.
His mind told him not to. His mouth, however, would not be denied the plump softness of her lips beneath his one more time.
Yes, that was all. One more time before he never saw her again.
Her hands slid up his arms to settle on his shoulders, and instead of pushing him away, she clung to him. Pulled him nearer. Held him in a tight embrace, her breasts crushed to his chest, as she kissed him back. The sweetest sound of surrender fled her throat. Her lips parted. He took advantage of the opportunity, his tongue slipping into her mouth.
Everything sweet. Everything he wanted more of. That was what she tasted like. Stupidity and lust and luxury and sin laced with a hint of tea. That, too.
He was the one between the two of them who was touched in the head. Not her. Because kissing her was madness. It could lead to nowhere good. He could not bed her. Innocents were not his sort. Neither were ladies.
And yet…
Her fingers sank into his hair, and her legs parted beneath her gown, opening for him to step between them. Jasper knew when to obey and accept an invitation. His rigid cock nestled into her belly. He could not keep himself from touching her. His vow to only allow himself a kiss was abandoned as he found her waist, her curves perfectly molded for his palms. Such softness. The cool fabric beneath his hands burned with her warmth.
She was not wearing stays.
The knowledge made him hungrier. Bolder. He slid a hand to cup her breast. Just one. A plump handful. Ah, Satan’s teeth. This had been a wretched idea. What was he doing? Her nipple was hard. Prodding his thumb. He rubbed over it in teasing swirls that had her moaning into their kiss.