Unable to watch a moment longer, he turned and left. There was a library in Lord Ponsonby's grand townhouse. He would sit there a while, drink his frustrations away separated from thetonand return when the ball was almost complete. He would not endure watching any more men salivating over Sutton's breasts.
He would end up in fisticuffs or calling them out at dawn. Neither option would help him, or Sutton, gain what they both wanted.
A life partner.
Chapter 9
Sutton watched as Logan ran from the room for the second time that evening as if the hounds of hell were nipping at his polished boots. She narrowed her eyes on the man, determined to find out this time what troubled him.
Although she had a sneaking suspicion, she knew what distressed him so, and it was her. Or at least her dress, maybe even the fluttering of her eyelashes she had tried on him the day before. Most definitely, it was the man in her arms who had not been able to take his gaze from her bosom during the entire cotillion.
As much as she had enjoyed teasing the gentlemen of theton, many of whom had no interest in her up until this evening because of her accentuating gown, she could not marry a man who lusted after her and nothing more.
She hoped she was not wrong about Lord Ridley, but if he did not meet her eyes soon, she could only determine that he too could be swayed by a pair of voluptuous breasts, and it may be only a matter of time before another pair lured him away from her side.
The dance came to an end, and Sutton excused herself, starting for the retiring room. However, she did not head in the direction of the room on the first floor. Instead, she started searching the ground-floor rooms, knowing that if Logan had gone anywhere, it would not be where the women gathered to refresh themselves for possible gentlemen admirers.
Looking into each room, she came across a billiards and music room before the library caught her attention and the flickering of a single candle burning somewhere in the room’s depths.
Sutton peeped through the door and entered when she spied Logan standing before the shadowed grate, whisky in hand and staring into a pile of wood set for when the fire would be lit next.
"I hope I'm not intruding," she said, closing the door behind her. "I fear you may have been right about my gown. It does draw too much attention to my person. Lord Ridley has not been able to look me in the eyes this past hour at least."
A small smile tweaked his lips before he picked up his glass of amber liquid and downed it in one swallow. "You may wear whatever you like. Ridley is no better than I. A rogue admiring a beautiful woman." He paused, taking in her gown yet again. "Nor should you be here, Sutton. We cannot be found together in such a way. We would be forced to marry, and neither of us wants that," he quipped, no malice in his words, merely repeating what she knew as truth.
Do you still believe that, Sutton? Really?
She dismissed her thoughts, coming to stand at his side. "I wanted to talk to you about what you said in the ballroom. Did you really mean what you said?" The desirable look he threw her ought to halt her questioning, but she could not stop. A silly little part of her youthful self that remained wanted to hear him tell her he wanted her still. That she made him as flushed and needy as she felt whenever she was around him.
She could not help herself, and there was only one thing for it. She wanted what they once shared. Even if for only one night. She wanted him to give her the pleasure she longed for. Eventually, she would gain a husband, and he would satisfy her, she was certain, but the ache that thrummed between her legs, the need that kept her awake at night would not abate, and she knew the reason why.
He turned, stepping toward her, and she backed away. One step closer, pushed her farther toward the desk before her bottom came up hard against the wood. She clasped the top at her back, expectation thrumming through her veins that he would give her what she wanted.
"You should not play with me, Sutton. I've never been a man who likes to be teased."
She dampened her lips with her tongue, her mouth craving his. Without thinking too much of what she was doing and the risks she took by being here alone with Logan, she reached up, clasping the lapels of his jacket.
"Six years ago, you broke my heart, and I think you owe me a little more than helping me in regard to theWallflower’s Guide."
He stepped closer still, clasping her about her waist and lifting her to sit on the mahogany top of the desk. His hands ran along her thighs, her silk gown sliding over her skin like a second caress.
"What else do you crave, Sutton?" he asked her, his voice deep and gravely with a determined edge that left her breathless and achingly wet.
"I want," she said, pushing down her nerves and taking what she desired. "I long for you to give me pleasure as you once did."
"Hmm," he breathed against her lips, close but never quite touching her. The action left her even needier and determined to get what she wanted. "How would I go about that, do you think?" he queried, stepping back and studying her a moment. He tapped his chin, a wicked grin lifting his lips. "Ah yes, I know how. If you will allow me?" he asked her, not touching her again.
She nodded, holding the desk top, wondering what next he would do to her. Would he make love to her as he once had? Or touch her and make her frenzied with need until she shattered into a million pieces of pleasure? She would be satisfied with either if he would only hurry up.
"Say you want me to make you come, Sutton," he asked, not moving an inch.
"I want you to make me come, Logan," she breathed, the thought almost too much to bear. Her body did not feel like itself. It throbbed and ached, the expectation and longing for what they once shared driving her to distraction.
He clasped the hem of her gown, sliding it up over her legs, her ankles, calves, and then her thighs were exposed to his view. Nothing he had not seen before, but it had been six years since she had been with him so intimately. "This changes nothing between us, Logan," she stated, needing him to understand what she was asking of him this night. A selfish, singular act they would not repeat.
Logan nodded, looking down at her legs, and she dismissed the idea that she perceived disappointment in his dark, stormy eyes. He could not be so. Not after all that had transpired between them. The heartache, the breaking of trust, not to mention the animosity they often spoke with to each other. He could not regret her words, could he?
Cool air kissed her legs, and heat brushed her cheeks as he pushed her knees apart, exposing her to his view. She wore split drawers, and she knew he could see her intimate self, the most private of places.