Page 31 of The Notorious Lord Sin
Paris chuckled, coming to stand beside them. "You will not displease anyone. Merely remember your manners and do not go off with any gentleman where we cannot see you, and all will go splendidly."
Dominic cleared his throat, catching Paris's eyes quickly. "Do you remember our first evening at Almacks, Paris?" he whispered against her ear, sending a shiver of delight down her spine.
Heat kissed her cheeks, and she wondered at his question. How could he think she would forget such an evening? The night he had stolen her away in this building, kissing her until her toes curled in her silk slippers.
Even now, the thought of such a kiss made her long to taste him again. To be alone, just the two of them.
"Oh, we see Lady Anna Bell. May we go and speak with her? She's all alone," Anwen said, turning to them both.
"Off you go and enjoy the night, and do not forget to fill your dance cards," Dominic advised before they all but ran across the room to their friend.
Paris smiled, remembering those carefree days of being a debutante. How the thought of possibility, of an unknown future, filled you with excitement and expectation. "Your sisters will be a success, my lord. Look, even now, several young men are making their way to their small group. I think you shall have a double wedding before the Season is finished."
"Oh, I do hope so," he said, a small frown between his brow as he watched his siblings. "They are good girls ... women, I suppose I ought to amend. I hope they make a love match and are settled and happy before too long."
Paris patted his arm near where her hand sat. The feel of his superfine coat caught her attention, and she inspected it. "Lord Astoridge, you have a small tear in the sleeve of your coat," she said.
"I do?" He glanced at the small tear with surprise. "I will have to have my valet look at it when I return home," he said, his mouth thinning into a displeased line.
Paris turned back to the multitude of guests. "I do believe it was at Almacks that we first met," she reminded him, wanting to return to the subject of their courtship. The sweet, memorable part of it, in any case.
His deep chuckle at her words, too, brought back so many memories. "Do you remember our third attendance here? Should we sneak away and see if the closet is still unlocked?"
The idea had merit, and Paris nodded without overthinking the subject.
"Can you remember where it is?" he asked her.
Paris almost scoffed at the question. Remember where the closet was, indeed. It was one location she could never forget, and being one of the sweetest memories she had of Dominic, she had never had reason to.
"Ido. I shall meet you there directly."
Dominic felt her reply to the center of his very soul. His body thrummed with the need to be with her again. To kiss and touch her, to remind himself that she desired him as much as he did her.
He wanted more than to have her desire him in such a way. He wanted her to be his wife, and this was merely one more step in proving to her that he would not disappoint her this time. That there was a future for them if only she would take a leap of faith.
It did not take him long to find the closet that held so many ravishing memories for them both. That none of their friends knew of their courtship had been a wonderful, freeing truth.
He opened the closet and closed it, attempting to be as patient as possible. That he had exploited the fact their friends had not known of his interest in Paris and had used it to his advantage later on dimmed his excitement, but he thrust it away.
He was no longer that immature, reckless boy. He was a man now and one who knew what he wanted, who he had always wanted. Had he thought to marry someone else, he would have, but he could never find the words nor the right woman to suit the viscountess title.
There was a reason for that. As the handle turned and the door opened, that reason stood before him.
He wrenched her into the small, dark place and kissed her.
Hard.
Their tongues tangled and danced as he walked her back against a wall, pressing their bodies together. His ached for release. He wanted to lift her into his arms and have her wrap her delightfully lean legs about his waist while he pleasured them both.
Her hand reached between them, rubbing against his cock, and he moaned through their kiss. "Paris, you'll make me spend like a green lad in my silk breeches."
An article of clothing he could ill afford to ruin, no matter how satisfying that would be.
She giggled and pushed at his chest. He watched, transfixed, and felt his heart stop as she kissed her way down his chest through his shirt and waistcoat.
Her eyes met his when she knelt before him, and he read the wickedness in her gaze. He swallowed, bit his lip, and reached out to steady himself on the wall.
"I'll not let you ruin your silk breeches," she cooed, untying each button on his falls with excruciating slowness. He took a calming breath, wondering if she would do what he damn well hoped he was imagining.
