closed her eyes, trying to block the memory of other hands, other chests pressed against herself, against her mother. Against all the actresses in the company.
She had always escaped before. As a child. But as Chadwick's hands wormed their way beneath her cap, discarding the item with a single flick of his wrist, she felt a strange languid heat weaken her body. It frightened her, and yet, she had no strength to fight as his nimble fingers burrowed deeper, pushing away the pins so her hair flowed freely.
"That is much better," he whispered. "Now no one can see your face."
She closed her eyes, mentally correcting his statement. No one could see her burning face except him, no one could see the flush that stained her skin except the man who was even now making her chest tighten with a tingling awareness that set her head spinning.
"This is wrong," she said, her voice too soft and breathy. She had meant to sound forceful, but she could not, not when she felt his breath hot on her skin as he trailed his lips over her shoulder, nuzzling along her neck until he found the sensitive curve of her ear.
"We are hiding in plain sight," he whispered as he settled harder against her pelvis, his desire a hot brand that made her squeak with alarm. "Shhhhh," he whispered, soothing her with more kisses, more heady touches along her arms and her neck. His hands slid beneath her shirt. "I am merely another customer doing his business against the wall."
"No," she gasped, wondering why she wasn't fighting. Why didn't she struggle as she had in her mother's greenroom? Why did the strength in his body seem a wonderful shield against the cold?
"Yes," he answered, as his fingers brushed apart the torn bindings over her breasts. She cried out, a low whimper of alarm, while her legs gave way, dropping her weight onto the corded muscles in his thighs.
Then, too swiftly for her reeling senses, he pulled back, dropping his hands to the bottom of her breeches, grasping the one untorn leg in both hands and ripping it open. Both sides now fluttered down to lie flat against her legs like parts of a shortened skirt.
"I run," she gasped, speaking to herself more than him. "Men never catch me." But he had caught her. He was even now settling himself even more securely against her. His hands dropped to her hips, curving beneath her bottom and pulling her up hard against his arousal.
"Wrap your legs around me," he said, his low voice reverberating through her body. "They are almost here. We must make this look real," he said as his mouth found hers.
The kiss was hard and heavy, draining the last of her thoughts away. He invaded her mouth with practiced ease, caressing her lips and then dueling with her tongue. She could taste him, strong and potent, and she felt as if she were being swept away in a storm—a heaving, surging flood of bodies and moans and guttural cries.
"No!" she whispered, feeling herself drown beneath the onslaught, even as her body arched into him. But it was too late. Through the haze that fogged her thoughts, she could hear their pursuers heavy bootfalls coming steadily closer.
She felt Chadwick's body clench, tensing as he began the motions of the act. Though clothing still separated them, she felt his hardness press deeply against her, felt herself open and moisten as the bawds said would happen.
No! Her mind screamed silently. It was too much. He was too much and she was afraid. So afraid, despite his whispers.
"A moment longer," he soothed against her cheek. "They're almost here."
She acted without thought, her movements coming from panic and fear. Grasping the broken leg of a chair, she lifted it up high and brought it down hard on Chadwick's temple.
He crumpled like a stone.
When Ballast's men searched their street, they saw only a filthy whore, calmly picking the pockets of her sotted cull. They could not see much of him as his face was turned into the wall. One of the men chuckled as he passed them by, thinking that
She had always escaped before. As a child. But as Chadwick's hands wormed their way beneath her cap, discarding the item with a single flick of his wrist, she felt a strange languid heat weaken her body. It frightened her, and yet, she had no strength to fight as his nimble fingers burrowed deeper, pushing away the pins so her hair flowed freely.
"That is much better," he whispered. "Now no one can see your face."
She closed her eyes, mentally correcting his statement. No one could see her burning face except him, no one could see the flush that stained her skin except the man who was even now making her chest tighten with a tingling awareness that set her head spinning.
"This is wrong," she said, her voice too soft and breathy. She had meant to sound forceful, but she could not, not when she felt his breath hot on her skin as he trailed his lips over her shoulder, nuzzling along her neck until he found the sensitive curve of her ear.
"We are hiding in plain sight," he whispered as he settled harder against her pelvis, his desire a hot brand that made her squeak with alarm. "Shhhhh," he whispered, soothing her with more kisses, more heady touches along her arms and her neck. His hands slid beneath her shirt. "I am merely another customer doing his business against the wall."
"No," she gasped, wondering why she wasn't fighting. Why didn't she struggle as she had in her mother's greenroom? Why did the strength in his body seem a wonderful shield against the cold?
"Yes," he answered, as his fingers brushed apart the torn bindings over her breasts. She cried out, a low whimper of alarm, while her legs gave way, dropping her weight onto the corded muscles in his thighs.
Then, too swiftly for her reeling senses, he pulled back, dropping his hands to the bottom of her breeches, grasping the one untorn leg in both hands and ripping it open. Both sides now fluttered down to lie flat against her legs like parts of a shortened skirt.
"I run," she gasped, speaking to herself more than him. "Men never catch me." But he had caught her. He was even now settling himself even more securely against her. His hands dropped to her hips, curving beneath her bottom and pulling her up hard against his arousal.
"Wrap your legs around me," he said, his low voice reverberating through her body. "They are almost here. We must make this look real," he said as his mouth found hers.
The kiss was hard and heavy, draining the last of her thoughts away. He invaded her mouth with practiced ease, caressing her lips and then dueling with her tongue. She could taste him, strong and potent, and she felt as if she were being swept away in a storm—a heaving, surging flood of bodies and moans and guttural cries.
"No!" she whispered, feeling herself drown beneath the onslaught, even as her body arched into him. But it was too late. Through the haze that fogged her thoughts, she could hear their pursuers heavy bootfalls coming steadily closer.
She felt Chadwick's body clench, tensing as he began the motions of the act. Though clothing still separated them, she felt his hardness press deeply against her, felt herself open and moisten as the bawds said would happen.
No! Her mind screamed silently. It was too much. He was too much and she was afraid. So afraid, despite his whispers.
"A moment longer," he soothed against her cheek. "They're almost here."
She acted without thought, her movements coming from panic and fear. Grasping the broken leg of a chair, she lifted it up high and brought it down hard on Chadwick's temple.
He crumpled like a stone.
When Ballast's men searched their street, they saw only a filthy whore, calmly picking the pockets of her sotted cull. They could not see much of him as his face was turned into the wall. One of the men chuckled as he passed them by, thinking that
Similar Books
