Chapter Text
EVENING OF SATURDAY JUNE 18, 1814
The room they entered was entirely dark save the glow of a few flickering candles, which was precisely what Kate wanted at the moment. The need that had been bothering her for days was now roaring and raw, and seeing Anthony standing by the door in that mask…
Lock the door.
Her order echoed in the silence.
“Before I do…” Anthony looked to the floor. Her presence and scent filled every corner of the dense space, making it somehow feel smaller. “We should spea—”
“Anthony.”
His gaze snapped up.
She hadn’t used his given name since—
Kate surged into him, her hands slipping beneath his jacket to embrace his lean waist. Caught off guard, Anthony stumbled backward until he hit the door.
“Christ, Kate.”
She buried her face in his neck. “Is this all we have? This craving?”
“What are you talking about?” he asked gruffly, his arms coming around her.
Cupping his behind, Kate’s lips and tongue met the spot just below his ear. Her mouth began to move across his throat, his neck unconsciously tilting so that she could find even more of him to kiss. All the while she rubbed her body against his, her breath to his neck, her breasts to his chest, her...God, he could feel the heat radiating from her across every inch of his skin.
The darkness was freedom. All there was in Kate’s world at the moment was the man she desired—the smell and voice of Anthony, his warmth. Passion. Need.
Just as she kissed up to his mouth, Anthony eagerly turned his face toward hers, pausing and looking at her. He wanted to pull her closer and push her as far away as he could.
She wordlessly untied his mask from behind his head. He did the same to hers, tossing it to the floor.
And Anthony couldn’t delay another second before capturing her mouth with his, swearing to himself as he did so that if she said no, if she made any sort of indication that she didn’t want it, he’d stop. It’d be the hardest thing he’d ever done, but he’d do it.
But Kate didn’t say no.
Instead, she pressed herself into him harder, her fingers curling tightly in his hair. He grabbed her and twisted swiftly so that she was against the door, seizing the moment, tasting her, breathing her. They were frantic—pulling at each other, moaning, digging into each other’s skin. Anthony covered her lips again and again, desperately, hoping she’d never break for air. When Kate tilted her head to the side eventually, dragging in a welcome breath, he dove for her neck, vigorously kissing the skin above her chest—
And then her fingers began working at the placket of his trousers.
He paused, panting. “Wait.”
“Need you now,” she breathed, fumbling with the buttons.
Anthony caught her wrists. “You’d have me take you here? What if someone should come? We’ve no idea what room we’re in.”
“Someplace unused, since there’s no fire in the grate,” Kate argued, her voice thick with lust.
Anthony managed a smile, although how he didn't know. He'd never before thought it possible to smile when one was about to expire from lack of oxygen.
His current territory was unfamiliar to him. He thought earlier he’d pushed too far too soon. Yet now, he was presented with his inebriated, uninhibited wife whom he’d been aching for for weeks. If he were colder, more calculating—if he were still a Rake—he’d allow her to press on with his seduction. He could sweep her away before she could even begin to consider her actions. She’d be lost on her wave of passion.
But now that the moment was finally here, he just didn’t know if he could bear it if she didn’t really want it. Something in him couldn’t be quite that ruthless. Not with Kate, and he desperately craved her approval. He didn’t want her to be able to say later, even to herself, that she hadn’t been of clear mind. She was hot and ready in his arms, kissing him, and yet a barrier was between them. No matter how tightly he held her, he couldn’t get close enough.
The realization was like falling into the freezing Serpentine.
“Kate… stop. Damn it. I’m sorry, I… ” he whispered urgently against her mouth.
“What’s the matter?” she started kissing his neck again.
Anthony gently pulled back. “We said we wouldn’t…” He could hear himself breathing raggedly, pathetically, in the silence. He waited until he caught his breath, not wanting his voice to break when he spoke again. “I can’t.”
Even in the dull candlelight, he could see Kate’s face fall. “But—”
“Not like this,” Anthony insisted harshly before kissing her forehead. “I don’t want you impaired in any way when you make this decision.”
“Please,” Kate breathed. “I can hardly think about anything else. The dreams I’m having…”
“Jesus God.” Making a mental note to ask about that later, Anthony’s laugh was dark as he dipped down to rest his head on her shoulder. “I’m trying to remain civilized.”
“I want you uncivilized.” She brought his face back up to hers. “You said on our honeymoon you wouldn’t decide what’s right for me.”
“This is different. You're drunk,” Anthony said, shaking his head emphatically. “Not a fortnight ago, you believed me an unfeeling tyrant who sees you as nothing more than a warm body.”
“How many ti—” A harsh breath escaped. “When I'm angry, I say things I do not mean.”
He was already shaking his head. “I was forced on you by circumstance. The idea of forcing myself on you physically is—that is, if you were ever to feel sorry for…” His thumbs caressed her cheeks as he blinked away the horror in his eyes before she could see it. “I cannot be a lapse in judgement, or some… moment of weakness. Not for you.”
The way he was for others.
Kate felt herself unraveling with embarrassment, her head pounding. Wishing she still had her mask on, she reached down to retrieve it—
“Don't.” Anthony pulled her up by the shoulders to face him. “Don’t hide. We’ve both been doing far too much of that lately.”
God, the confusion and insecurity in her eyes did mad things to his brain. How she could harbor insecurities when he wanted to kneel at her feet and pledge his fealty?! If she didn't sober up and he didn’t get to say what needed saying soon, she would end up underneath him on the floor, where he would banish every insecure thought swirling in her head.
He ushered her over to a nearby chaise, settling her there, before wordlessly moving about the room. He lit a few more tapers, casting flickering shadows on the walls lined with ancient volumes. He poured a large glass of water from a nearby tray, and gathered a few hard biscuits from a jar. And then, he handed her the water and biscuits with a sort of gentle urgency, desperate for her to regain her senses.
“There are issues that need airing. The sooner, the better.”
Persuaded by Anthony’s tentative manner and the lingering effects of the claret she’d drunk too liberally, Kate took his offerings. Long minutes went by. In between bites and sips, he shrugged out of his topcoat, draped it over the chair opposite her, and sat down. He watched her with a quiet focus, as if trying to determine the exact moment when it would be safe to speak, to bridge the gap that had formed between them these past weeks. The hot air pulsed with apprehension, the intensity of the earlier moment—which had very nearly pulled them back together in ways neither of them could fully control—still lingering. The muffled sound of music and laughter from the ball below occasionally punctuated the silence between them.
After checking his pocket watch, Anthony eventually cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “How are you feeling now?” His voice was careful, but there was an unmistakable edge to it, as if he were holding something back.
Despite the water, despite the food, Kate's head still spun—not just from the wine, but from the closeness of him. The undeniable pull she felt whenever they were alone. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, still sipping the water. God, the way he was looking at her wasn’t helping matters. “Better.”
Apparently, that was all he needed to call the meeting to order. “Kate, I didn’t enjoy speaking to any of those women any more than you enjoyed watching me do so.”
Kate smiled tenderly, like his words were a melody to her ears. She relaxed into the low back of the chaise and curled her legs next to her, her red gown spilling elegantly over the cushions. But she said nothing, only popped the last bite of a biscuit into her mouth.
A faint tinge of sadness marred his voice. “You don’t believe me.”
“All men like fawning women.” She took a few long sips of water, her thoughts and gaze sharpening with the growing sobriety.
Anthony pursed his lips and smirked. “I like fawning women… who are temperamental viscountesses… who wear red…”
Kate shook her head, a faint smile curving her mouth. “You've no shame.”
“I’d be ashamed if I didn’t like you,” he said quietly, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees.
“Hmm.” She rubbed the back of her neck, her gaze dropping to the floor.
Anthony pushed aside the anxiety that threatened to steal his voice. He shook his head pitifully.
Blast it.
“I don’t want anyone but you, Kate. No one else.”
She swallowed, her lips parting as though she wanted to protest, but no words came. She was staring at him now, not just with hesitation but with heat. He could see it—the way her gaze lingered on his mouth, the way her breathing quickened ever so slightly. He had seen this before, on the night they had first come together as husband and wife. The night they had set fire to every rule they had once clung to.
He pressed on. “I know you find the possibility of my fidelity hard to imagine. If I were you, I’m not certain I’d believe a cad like me either. But I’d like another chance to prove myself. To be your friend, as well as your lover.”
Once the words were out, Anthony felt a profound relief, swiftly followed by a high tension. Baring himself was something he’d avoided at all costs until now, and the sensation was new to him.
Kate took a deep breath, her heart tripping over the austerity of his features. “It doesn’t matter if I believe you or not.”
“How can you say that?” Anthony hastened out of his chair, sitting next to her before he could think twice. He gazed at her with furrowed brows, his expression strained and cautious. “Explain so I may understand.”
Kate took his mouth in a lush kiss in response, suddenly wanting him again. Not because she was physically unable to resist the temptation he presented, but because she saw something in him she’d failed to see before—commitment. Commitment to her. He was committed to learning about and understanding her, not just because she was his wife. The knowledge made her want to sink into his embrace, made her relish the feel of his strong arms now encircling her back—
Anthony turned his head, evading her questing mouth from going further. “Don’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Silence me with sex. We will have this out, Kate. I won't hear any more of this nonsense about mistresses and the like.”
Heavens.
If anything proved that Anthony had changed, it was his resistance to sex while seeking a deeper connection. Despite all her insecurities that demanded dismissal of the notion of lasting marital affection, some tiny voice inside her urged her to believe otherwise.
To believe him.
Barring their argument and the physical torment of the days that followed, he was happier now than he’d been before they’d married. She was sure of it.
He didn’t have to love her. He didn’t. She’d said those words to herself so many times over the course of their relationship that she almost believed them. He didn’t have to love her. But he did have to feel free. Free…to be happy. As did she.
“I’ll… tell you what I think,” she breathed.
Anthony made a strained sound, as though her offer had granted him a reprieve from some impending doom, yet he hesitated, uncertain if he ought to accept it. “Go on,” he demanded, his stomach in knots.
“I’m now prepared to enjoy you fully. When we’re through with each other,” her determination unwavering, “we'll separate. I’ll live at Bridgerton House to raise any children we may have and launch your sisters. We'll share fondness and friendship, our appetite for the other fully sated, so no more of this madness will occur.”
Anthony raised his brows skeptically. “You sound quite determined.”
“I am.”
“And when did you make this decision?”
“25 minutes ago, perhaps.”
“So the claret has blurred your path of resistance.”
“On the contrary, it made things clearer,” Kate argued. “I could only see our pull as… an unnecessary complication to our marriage. But now I feel certain I’ll be stronger and more resilient for the experience.”
“So, I’m to be an experience for you.” Anthony sounded mildly contemplative. “And just when do you anticipate this time for an amicable separation will arrive?”
“Haven’t the faintest idea. The end no longer concerns me.”
“What if it concerns me?”
She rolled her eyes. “I admit to less experience, Anthony, but even common sense dictates anything that blazes so fiercely at the start is bound to wither just as swiftly.”
He was shaking his head again. “This is different.”
“What is?”
“I don’t know. I still don’t. But what if”—he gestured between them—“we work at this thing between us, instead of allowing it to fade and wither. What if, when problems arise, we address them?”
“You say that now…” She shook her head with a smile. “But we both know you will tire of me.”
Anthony’s posture stiffened, his jaw tensing and eyes hardening with alarm. She said it so… impassively. “Have I given you cause to believe I find boredom in our bed?”
Her attention shot to the floor. “Not… particularly.”
“Don’t be uncomfortable,” he ordered softly with that uncanny ability he had to read her mind.
“Vulnerability isn’t my strength,” she argued.
“Nor mine. But, we know something of another that exists only between us. We should be more accessible to each other because of that, not more distant.”
“As accessible as I am now, engaging is such candid conversation?”
“You evade more questions than you answer.”
“As the kettle said to the pot.”
“For God’s sa—Kate, there’s no reason to… this is—” Anthony closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead with long fingers. Get it together, man! “This is the best I've ever had,” he admitted finally, enunciating each word. He glanced at her. “It’s so good. Us. So… so very good…”
Her returning gaze made his throat ache, her face pure of wicked delight. He held his breath as her hands lifted, and she slowly raked all ten fingers through his hair, scraping her nails against his scalp. “Tell me more.”
Anthony’s eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment, a quiet curse escaping his lips at the contact. When he opened them again, his voice was filled with something deeper, something raw and unguarded.
“You're unnerving,” he murmured, his hands coming up to gently clasp her wrists. “Why is it you doubt yourself?” His head lulled as she rubbed leisurely circles onto his head. “The act is… innate to you,” he rambled. Her thumbs traced the delicate curves of his ears, gently pressing the lobes, and he wondered how long he might endure her touch before melting like the wax of the tapers he'd lit. “I mean, you’re truly…” He rolled their foreheads together. “Exceptionally…” Their mouths inched closer. Wait! “Christ, you are dangerous like this.”
“Like what?”
“We're supposed to be—”
Her lips brushed over his. “One kiss, and then we'll discuss matters properly.”
“Properly,” he rasped. He looked at her mouth as he slid his fingers into her hair, rubbing his thumb against her cheek, as if apologizing for what he needed. “All right.”
Kate nodded and kissed him desperately, beaming with triumph, wrapping her arms around his neck. He took rough pulls of her mouth, tilting her head sideways and taking deep tastes. Thorough and savoring. My God. In seconds, completely out of control. When he tasted the sweet claret on her tongue, he pulled back with a tortured groan.
“All right, that's…” he sucked down heavy pulls of air. “There's more to say while I have you sitting still.”
“I want this so much,” Kate said all breathy, not caring if her voice exposed her.
Anthony’s lips twitched with a smile. “Suffering, are you?”
“More than you, clearly.”
What?!
Something snapped inside of him, then. He felt it palpably, a strange popping sensation that released a rush of blood, feeding the frustrated anger that’d been simmering inside of him for days.
“You believe it’s not torture for me?”
Anthony kissed her this time. Violently. Briefly their teeth clashed, then their tongues. Kate’s hands knotted in Anthony’s hair, pulling it hard. He poured all the angst and frustration of the last weeks into their kiss, binding her to him, and it hit him—in this moment—Kate was doing the same. He sensed the turbulence of her desire and, surprisingly, was slightly frightened by it. Perhaps not so much because of her appetite, but because it matched his own.
“I'm burning for you,” he admitted as they kissed. “Night and day, I dream of you. And what I…” he shook his head. “Do you even know all the ways you’ve yet to be seduced? The things I’ve yet to teach you…”
Kate sighed heavily, flames of heat curling between her legs. She ached all over, her skin too hot and too tight, and she detested and loved the feeling and the memories it brought with it. “Anthony.”
Breaking their kiss, he gripped her jaw and tilted her face up to meet his scrutiny. “But how else can I prove to you that you’re distinguished from other women, unless I show you I want more than just your body? I want your respect, if not your trust.”
Kate arched her brow. “What other women?”
That made him smile, but the severity of his features didn’t change. “If I weren’t a gentleman, I’d have you on the floor right now.”
“I thought you weren’t a gentleman with me.”
Anthony dragged his thumb over her bottom lip. “I’m half-gentleman, perhaps.”
“I’m only half-sprung now!” God, his refusal to lay with her was an unexpected enticement! Kate was so accustomed to his command of their bedsport that his lack of participation made her want him even more. She was squirming closer, her hands sliding from his neck to the collar of his shirt, twisting to drag him closer. Closer, until—
The door suddenly swung open with an exaggerated flourish.
Protectively, Anthony stood with lightning speed. His jaw tightened when he saw the Earl of Sandforth in the doorway, with two raucously giggling women behind him. One of the leaders of London wildlife and an old mate from Oxford, Sandforth possessed the temperament of a true debauché—charming, whoring, drinking to excess, complete irresponsibility—and was infamously relentless in his pursuits. He'd been through half the wives of London, angering many husbands who knew their wives usually were willing participants if not the instigators of the whole affair.
“Beg pardon.” Sandforth began to back out, and then stopped. “Bridgerton? Is that you?”
“Sandforth,” Anthony greeted grimly, offering a hand to Kate. She took it and stood, smoothing her dress and hair.
Sandforth came in gracefully despite the smell of brandy on his breath and skin, and the ladies who accompanied him were all swaying hips before rushing to compliment Kate’s dress. He peered at Kate, his gaze sweeping over her with undisguised appreciation, and clapped Anthony hard on his shoulder, whispering for his ears alone, “Should’ve known you’d get the piece in red.”
Anthony clenched his jaw. “My wife, you mean?”
“That’s your wife?”
“Who else would I be consorting with in a darkened room?”
“Don’t think you want me to answer that.” Sandford grinned devilishly. “Won’t you introduce us?”
“I'd rather not,” Anthony said tersely, but Kate was already coming over to them. “Darling, allow me to introduce you to the Earl of Sandforth, an old friend from Oxford. Sandforth, my wife, Lady Kate Bridgerton.”
Kate curtsied politely. “A pleasure, my lord.”
“So this is the woman all of England is talking about,” Sandforth drawled, lifting Kate's free hand and kissing the air just above her knuckles. “I must congratulate you, Lady Bridgerton. I've heard rumors of your beauty, yet such praise did little justice to the reality.”
“You’re very kind.” Sensing Anthony’s tense posture beside her, Kate smiled and arched a brow. “Though I suspect beauty blooms all the more at the bottom of a bottle. So does gossip.”
For an extended moment, Sandforth appeared dumbfounded. Then he and his companions erupted with amusement.
“La belle dame sans merci,” Sandforth mused. Something new, like interest, took shape in his eyes. “I appreciate a woman who knows what she’s about.” He tilted his head in Anthony's direction. “I might just have to steal you from this old rogue.”
“I highly suggest you don’t attempt that,” Anthony said, pinning Sandforth with a hard look.
“Always the dour guardian, isn't he?” Sandforth narrowed his eyes teasingly, holding Kate's gaze.
“If you don’t mind, Lady Bridgerton and I were already searching this room,” Anthony said in a very low, precise tone, emphasizing Lady Bridgerton.
“You would keep such a treasure to yourself while the rest of us revel?” Sandforth complained.
Anthony's face darkened. “She’s not the entertainment.”
“Fine! We’ll take our leave.” Sandforth then spoke lowly in Anthony’s ear, and Kate watched as Anthony stiffened uncomfortably while the Earl laughed heartily, filling the air with brandy from his breath. She looked to the two other ladies who were waiting impatiently—they were, of course, staring with frankly carnal appreciation at Anthony. The Earl brought her gaze back to him by lifting her hand to his lips, his mouth lingering a second too long…
“Sandforth,” Anthony warned.
Lord Sandforth beamed. “It was lovely to meet you, Lady Bridgerton. I'm sure we’ll meet again.”
“Good evening, my lord.”
The man then wrapped an arm around either lady's waist, ushering them out. Anthony followed only to close the door behind them, roughly clicking the lock into place this time.
“Who are those women? I didn't recognize them,” Kate asked.
“Nor me. I suppose anyone can get into a masque.”
“What did he say to you?” She tilted her head. “Tell me.”
Anthony leaned against a nearby desk, crossing his arms. “He told me his plans for the ladies with him. That’s all.”
Understanding dawned, and Kate looked at him with fascinated horror. Two women? “All three of them?”
He nodded, holding his index finger across his lower lip.
She shifted furtively. Anthony was far more experienced than she’d ever be. Unless he remedied that lack of knowledge, which she doubted he would unless she pushed him. Kate suspected he feared corrupting her any more than he believed he already had, while she feared his loss of interest.
She looked at him. “Have you done that?”
A beat.
“Yes,” Anthony admitted, watching her warily as she processed such information.
“Oh.”
But to Kate’s surprise, the idea made her blood go hot, rather than cold. Anthony's adventurous past didn't need to terrify, it could incite. What a curious way to think about things. All of the others before had only lead him to this moment, had only helped him hone his skill…for her. He was demanding she didn't see herself as one of the many. It was now her privilege and her privilege alone to enjoy his skill—all his raw expertise concentrated on ensuring only her pleasure—for as long as she wanted him.
Anthony remained still as a statue as Kate’s world tilted on its axis, his handsome features hard set as he misinterpreted the reason for her silence. “Before you ask, the answer is no. I’ve no interest in it now.”
She pursed her lips. “Why not?”
In truth, he felt shameful and confused even to contemplate the thought. It was something he didn’t understand in himself, but he knew that if the privacy between him and Kate were invaded by another person, it would destroy something inside him.
And doing it without her was certainly not an option.
“I can see why you were so sure of yourself when we met, you know,” Kate said softly, interrupting his thoughts. “You’ve gotten every woman you wanted, haven't you?”
He surveyed her with a strange look in his eye. “Eventually.”
Just be yourself.
Kate continued on as if she hadn’t heard him. “The Earl seemed pleasant enough.”
“He's…” Anthony clenched his jaw and shook his head, forgetting his words as he watched her.
Kate brought one hand to her mouth, her even, white teeth catching the tip of the middle finger of her glove and tugging. The glove slipped off her hand, and she released it from her teeth. It dropped to the floor between them.
“Are you not friends?” she tried.
Hypnotized, his gaze was fixed on her as she switched her attention to the other glove, tugging the fingertips one by one until it slid free. The sight of her bite gripping the red lace roused some raw instinct in him. There was something primal about disrobing with one’s teeth, which brought to mind the thoughts he’d had earlier in the evening about utilizing a similar method on her dress…
“He wants you,” he ground out finally.
“So do you.”
Her second glove fell to the floor.
“Kate…”
She moved to stand between Anthony’s legs. Grabbing his hands, she guided them to rest on the small of her back. “No more discussion.”
“I told you.” He closed his eyes in an attempt to convince himself. “I want no self-recrimination or faulty memory between us when I make you mine again.”
Kate shook her head slowly, rubbing her nose against his. “This is about me making you mine.”
Anthony’s eyes flew open. He could actually feel his pupils bleed into the brown of his irises, turning his eyes all but black.
There was something about Kate that called to him on some deep level he didn’t quite understand. And here she was demanding him. Claiming him.
“You’re mine,” she breathed in his ear.
“Yours,” he murmured, testing the word. He thought saying it for the first time to a woman would feel strange. It didn’t.
“Mine to tempt. Mine to enjoy.”
A dark look covered his face. “Yes.”
She began to unbutton his trousers much more adeptly now the effects of the claret had faded a bit. She bit and licked his earlobe.
“God, you could ruin a saint,” Anthony accused, the words coming out hoarse and ripped.
“What about a man who is far from saintly?” But then, more seriously, “Should I stop?”
“Don’t you dare.”
He groaned loudly when Kate dropped her left hand down his trousers and began stroking him. She immediately pressed her right hand over his mouth, muffling the sounds he was making. Anthony lightly bit the inside of her hand and Kate gasped, feeling it between her legs.
“How many days has it been?” She stroked him faster. “Since I touched you?”
Anthony spoke against her hand. “Thirfgseen.” 13. “Vafgsall.” Vauxhall.
“Did you enjoy what I did that night?”
He nodded.
“Say it,” Kate demanded, dropping her hand from his mouth. She wanted to know if he was beyond words, if she could reduce him to madness, enslave him to his needs—the way he’d done to her. “Tell me.”
“Yes,” Anthony growled, pressing his forehead against hers. “Yes, I enjoyed it.”
“Perhaps I should stop here, and leave you all angry and hot and aching,” Kate said with taunting authority, dragging her fingertips over his lips. “Maybe then you’d feel a little of what I do—”
Anthony began pulling her dress up her legs.
She paused, grabbing both his hands and holding them firmly on the desk by his sides. “No. I'm the predator in these woods, and you the little hunter.”
Anthony smiled and raised his brows. “Will you show your prey mercy?”
“If he begs for release.”
“I don’t beg.” Anthony’s voice was suddenly soft and serious. “You know that.”
“You mean…” Kate clamped her teeth around his lower lip and pulled gently, teasingly. “Not yet.”
And then, she dropped to her knees in front of him.
With complete confidence, she yanked his trousers down and he sprung free. Staring down at her in blissful agony, Anthony watched as she gripped the base of his length and angled him down to her waiting mouth. She dragged the tip of her tongue over him, just light enough to send a bolt of sensation flying through his body, but not enough to provide the encompassing sensation he desperately needed. Knowing what she was doing, Anthony set his jaw but remained silent.
“Do you want more?” she purred.
His hands curled into fists, his nails carving grooves in his palms from the effort it took to hold back a groan.
“So stubborn, Lord Bridgerton. I wonder what I can do about that.”
With a devious glint in her eye, Kate put him in her mouth.
Anthony instinctively jerked, and he let out a strangled grunt. He clenched his teeth to keep himself from coming at that very second. It was like he was a green lad of sixteen, not an experienced man! She did this to him. Only her. It was a humbling thought. He tensed underneath her as she ran her mouth up and down, pushing him to the back of her throat—again and again, slowly then quickly.
“Steady,” he groaned. Good God, did she have to be such a quick study?
He cupped her head tenderly, and she stopped, taking his hands and pressing them to the desk behind him. “I’ll stop if you touch me. Do you wish me to stop?”
He shook his head.
She took him deeper into her mouth again, pressing her lips together as tightly as she could.
“Kate,” Anthony hissed. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. All he could focus on were the feelings through him as her mouth moved around him. He strained against her, desperate for relief, but she’d ordered him to stay immobile. All he could do was stand there, a slave to her whims while she played him like the world’s most exquisitely torturous song.
Fast. Slow. Fast. Slow.
“You’ve made your point,” he grunted through gritted teeth.
Bringing him to the edge again and again until he was a puddle of pure, unrelenting need. Pulling his length deeper, swirling her tongue around the end, but then releasing…Anthony’s knuckles went white as he clenched the edge of the desk.
“Fuck,” he rasped. “Is your aim to kill me?”
Kate let go suddenly and looked up through her dark lashes, kissing his tip.
Anthony glared down at her, his chest heaving, his face tight and twisted in pleasure and torment. He could see the command in her eyes. His brain was already short-circuiting. If the explosion building inside him didn’t find a release soon, it would incinerate him from the inside out. He took a deep breath, knowing his resistance was futile, worried he’d actually die if she didn’t continue…
Why delay the inevitable.
“Please.”
She smiled victoriously — a hot feeling of power flooding through her — before taking Anthony in her mouth again, keeping a steady, relentless pace while he groaned at the relief, his desperation returning in full force as pleasure pulsed through him. After a few more pushes, each one feeling deeper and deeper, he spilled into her mouth, staring at the ceiling, saying her name and swearing violently.
“That was…” Words failed him.
Kate stood tall, reveling in the triumphant feeling. Smoothing her dress, she held his gaze and slowly wiped the back of her mouth. He devoured her with his eyes as she did it, and the air thickened with danger, as something in his gaze told her she was now the prey.
Her bravado faltered.
Anthony took off his gloves and refastened his trousers. Then he untied his cravat, slowly, before rolling both of his shirtsleeves to his elbows as if he was about to go to work on an arduous task with his hands. He looked her up and down, assessing her state, stalking towards her. Kate watched transfixed, every nerve bristling, her breath growing deep.
“Get on the desk.”
“What have I said about you and your orders?”
“It’s your turn.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“Can you?” Anthony tilted his head with skeptical arrogance. He circled her slowly, coming up behind her, his body not touching hers but close enough that she could feel his heat. “Prove it.”
She hesitated.
Was she wicked enough for this?
“You can do it,” he encouraged, once again with that bizarre ability to read her mind. “Show me.”
Taking a deep, brave breath, Kate grabbed a handful of her dress with her right hand, pulling it up over her legs. She then slid her left hand into her drawers, and began to gently stroke herself.
Anthony breathed from behind her, watching her from over her shoulder. His breath skated over her neck before he followed it with his tongue, kissing and teasing the sensitive spot on her nape.
“So.” His open mouth raked over her ear. “This is how you’ve been managing without me.”
Not a question. A statement. So she didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
Her head unwillingly lulled against his shoulder back with a thump, neck strength depleted, fingers rubbing eagerly. Anthony wrapped an arm around her stomach.
She needed him earlier. She needed him more now. The ache was worse, and she knew only he could soothe it. Only he could calm the roaring, salivating beast in her with the beast in him.
“Would you rather I do this?” he asked, replacing her hand that was holding her dress with his, while his other palmed her breast over her dress. Kate’s now free right hand wrapped around his neck, pulling his lips to the side of her throat. Anthony immediately acquiesced, trailing kisses along her neck. “I can do it better.”
“You probably could,” Kate acceded, speaking breathlessly. She shot him a look over her shoulder of sophisticated elegance, one that said she was comfortable with the fact that he’d seduced scores of women. “You’ve had lots of practice, haven’t you?”
“Rake that I was,” Anthony whispered, his hands squeezing her tightly.
Kate smiled weakly and whimpered, helpless, driven by desire. “My rake now.”
The low growl that escaped him couldn’t have been contained if he’d tried, everything primitive in him responding whenever she acknowledged her ownership. “That’s enough, I think.”
He spun her around, kissing her with an aggressive desperation. Taking charge, Anthony backed her up, the two of them grunting when the back of her legs hit the desk behind her. He plundered her mouth with his tongue, still tasting himself, before hiking her dress up around her waist, wrapping his hands around the back of her thighs and hoisting her onto the desk. His lips were hard and demanding, and when Kate attempted to get the upper hand, he gave her a warning nip on the lower lip before sinking to his knees before her.
She panted as he took her shoes off and began to slowly roll her white silk stockings down, kissing the inside of her thighs and running his tongue over the soft skin of her legs.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.
Her mind was racing. “You make me feel as if I am.”
“I can make you feel a great deal more.”
He abruptly stood again and drew back, examining her. The sight of her was stunningly erotic—perched on the edge of the desk, red dress, long hair, her dark, bare, toned legs open in silent invitation. His gaze flickered to her drawers. He walked silently up to her, standing between her parted legs. “Shall I stop here?”
“Don’t even think about it.”
Anthony smirked at her. “This kind of frustration isn’t something you’re used to.”
Arrogant bastard.
Kate hardly cared because he was absolutely right.
“No,” she breathed.
“What kind of husband would I be to leave my wife in such a state?”
“An awful one.”
Anthony smiled darkly and parted her legs even wider. He then ran his fingers against the silk, damp material between her legs, and Kate let her head fall back with a helpless moan. He began to rub his hand over her, pressing firmly against her until her entire body was silently begging for him. He moved his mouth to her neck and kissed her, nibbling, sucking, all in one spot, as if he was trying to brand her.
She tried to be quiet, but it was impossible when he was creating such friction between them, and he wasn’t being quiet either. Every time Kate moaned, he grunted or sighed or whispered her name—which only encouraged her to be vocal.
After a moment, his hand dipped inside her drawers, but he didn’t switch positions or move away from her neck. He only resumed the same movements, only this time they were infinitely more intense.
“Oh, God,” Kate panted. It took all she had not to pull away from his hand.
And then he very slowly slid a finger into her, circling leisurely, so she felt him, on all sides.
Kate couldn’t help the gasp that escaped from her lips, squeezing her eyes shut. Her hips jerked, trying to push his finger deeper as she ground on his hand. She panted with need as he continued, a pleasurable shudder wracking her body.
“I will stop,” Anthony offered, though he pushed in her deeper.
“Mmph…” Kate struggled to form a coherent response, too distracted by the rhythm of his hand, the feeling of his mouth on her neck—
“I will stop,” he said again, and this time he stilled.
She gasped at the pause. “Do not stop!”
He smiled against her throat, working another finger inside her, picking up the pace, rubbing hard against her most sensitive spot. He’d once spent a whole night taking her with only his fingers and tongue, determined to know every nuance of her body’s ability to climax. Reveling in his skill, her earlier discomfort gradually faded, replaced by the pleasure she knew only Anthony could provide. She shivered with the first stirrings of release, every part of her aching for more than just his hands—
Anthony read her thoughts again, kneeling before her and dragging her drawers down frantically before hooking her legs over his shoulders. Kate’s eyes fluttered closed.
“Pay attention,” he commanded, his voice low and harsh.
Her eyes snapped open at his tone.
And she watched as Anthony kissed her at the apex of her thighs.
Kate groaned, feeling his tongue circling her, her eyes rolling to the back of her head before refocusing on the sight of him between her legs. His tongue was relentless, strong and insistent, lavishing her, swirling round and round, again and again, non-stop. It was exquisite, the intensity of feeling. It was almost painful.
“God, the way you taste,” he murmured against her.
“Anthony,” she breathed, almost choking on the air she pulled into her lungs when he pushed two fingers inside her, pumping them in and out slowly while he continued teasing her with his tongue. Anthony forced himself to keep the rhythm soft for a while longer before increasing the pace and intensity.
“Please!” It was both a request for more and a plea for less. Kate didn’t know how to fight the sudden feeling of connection. It wasn’t just gratification, satiation. It was pure surrender…
She fisted his hair tighter with a muffled cry as her body took over. She fell into an abyss, convulsing around him intensely. Anthony’s senses swam with her scent, and when she squirmed, trying to inch away from him, he gripped her hips and forced her to remain still against his mouth.
After a moment, Kate muttered something in Hindi and closed her eyes with a breathless laugh, laying flat on her back against the cool, polished wood of the desk.
Anthony wiped his mouth on the inside of her leg with a kiss. “What did you say?”
“I said,” Kate answered, weakly opening her eyes to gaze at the ceiling, “I thought my heart was going to burst.”
Anthony stood proudly. He pulled her up and slid his hands through her hair, brushing his thumbs across her cheeks. “I take that as a compliment.”
She grinned at him. “Let’s go home.”
“Very well. But we won’t be going further tonight than we have here.”
“I want all of you.”
“And I’ll happily oblige you, when you’re sober.”
“This again?” Kate groaned, standing up and pulling up her drawers. “You deny me the means through which I feel the most connected to you in order to prove the depth of your respect? Didn’t we have this exact conversation on our honeymoon?”
“God, you are hot blooded tonight.” Anthony made a mental note: drink truly roused Kate’s passions. His mouth curved wryly when she stumbled a bit pulling up her stockings. He fixed his cravat. “Kate, I want your regard. I can’t violate such a cardinal boundary when you’re—”
“Yes, I’m a trifle disguised, and I want you,” Kate snapped. “And tomorrow, I’ll be sober, and I’ll still want you.”
“Then I eagerly await until then,” Anthony agreed sternly, though his heart was beating wildly at the idea. And then, with more tenderness, “It wouldn’t feel right for me tonight.”
Kate dropped her folded arms, her expression softening. There was nothing more to be said. Anthony’s caution said so much about his intentions. If he wanted only sex from her, he wouldn’t be so concerned about her reasons for offering it. He needed to be sure, too. Both of them had to feel ready. But then, something caught her eye over his shoulder. “What’s that?”
Anthony followed her gaze, noticing the glimmer as well. Rummaging behind a stack of books on a shelf, he yanked out the golden arrow.
Kate threw her head back in laughter. “We weren’t even searching!”
Anthony came to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “You were hunting something else, I suppose.” He then bent and kissed her gently, and she melted against him, grasping his arms. “God, it’s nice to do that after all these days.”
“If you wish to do it again,” Kate began, “you’ll need to do something for me.”
Anthony’s eyes closed in exasperation. “For the love of God, Kate. Not toni–”
“Mm-mm.” She pressed her lips to his mouth, silencing him. “That’s not what I meant.”
Whirling around from a tap on the shoulder, Lady Trowbridge's smile fell when she saw Lord and Lady Bridgerton, both without their masks, Lady Bridgerton's hand wrapped around his arm in blatant ownership.
Kate had made sure to look assembled enough, but left Anthony disheveled. His hair was rumpled, cravat loose, skin dewey and flushed. Beautiful.
Clearly Lady Trowbridge was thinking the same thing.
Kate held out the golden arrow to her, silently.
“You found it,” Lady Trowbridge squeaked, her gaze flickering at Anthony. “How marvelous.”
“It was all Lady Bridgerton.” Anthony’s compliment contained a hint of laughter. He gazed at Kate, not looking at Lady Trowbridge at all. “She was…tenacious.”
Reluctantly, Lady Trowbridge dragged her greedy eyes away from Anthony and smiled tautly at Kate. “Oh?”
“Hardly. My husband was the one who was thoroughly committed to the pursuit,” Kate gushed. And then, leaning forward and in a hushed tone so only Lady Trowbridge could hear, “He even got on his knees at one point, if you can believe it.”
Lady Trowbridge blinked, utterly stunned, flushing. “Such dedication.”
“He is dedicated,” Kate whispered pointedly, her voice full of pride and a veiled warning. She gazed impassively into Lady Trowbridge's widening blue eyes, then returned to normal volume. “We’ve come to collect our prize. You did say there was a prize, did you not?”
“It’s…ah…” Lady Trowbridge floundered, unsure what she could say. “It's…”
“I suppose the only treasure I need is my wife’s satisfaction,” Anthony said, coolly.
“Charming and dashing.” Kate looked at Lady Trowbridge. “I’m lucky to have such a man as my husband, am I not?”
“Y-You are, Lady Bridgerton,” Lady Trowbridge stuttered, wide-eyed and a little intimidated. “Indeed you are.”