“But…” Duffy looked to Wil, who shrugged.

  “You heard the ladies,” he said. They’d found their woman. It wasn’t their job to drag her kicking and screaming back to the brother.

  Duffy slapped his hat against his thigh. “Fine. Tomorrow.” He gave his thigh one more slap before shoving the hat on his head and striding from the room.

  Cerise made their farewells, and Wil followed her out the door and down the stairs.

  Duffy waited for them in front of the building. “I don’t like it.”

  Cerise shivered. “Which part?”

  “All of it. Not leaving her there with that popinjay. Not her suspicions. What an idiot her brother is.” Duffy shoved his hands in his pockets. “His sister suspects his secretary of trying to harm her yet Snowdon had the man in the room when he hired us.”

  “Maybe the brother knows more about his sister than he told us.” Wil shrugged out of his coat and draped it over Cerise’s shoulders. “Perhaps the sister is prone to wild tales.”

  Cerise snuggled into his coat, looking so damn adorable Wil’s heart actually hurt.

  “Perhaps.” Duffy glared up at the third floor. “And what of this Huddleson? As plain looking as Lady Juliana is, he’s not invited her in for an indecent purpose. But I bet she’s paying him to stay there.”

  “They’re friends,” Cerise said.

  Duffy snorted. “He’s getting something. Taking advantage of her somehow.”

  Cerise flipped up the collar to his jacket and strolled to the carriage. “Does friendship mean so little to you?”

  Wil opened the door and helped her inside. He followed.

  Duffy settled on the seat across from them and slammed the door. “Blunt comes before friendship, every time.”

  Cerise shook her head and looked out the window. She sat up straight. “That secretary. Does he wear a tall top hat?”

  Wil and Duffy shared a look. Wil shrugged. “I don’t know what type of hat he fancies. Why?”

  She pressed close to the window glass, arching her neck to watch something they’d passed. “Because a man with such a hat was at my theatre watching us as we left, and I just saw him again as we turned the corner.”

  Wil’s muscles went tense. “Are you certain it was the same man?” He’d felt like he was being followed. He should have listened to his gut.

  She nodded. “There could be no two such hats.”

  Wil pounded on the roof of the coach. “Stay with her,” Wil told Duffy. He pushed open the door and leapt out the moment the carriage ground to a halt. He sprinted back the way they’d come.

  Footsteps pounded behind him, and he twisted his lips. Of course they hadn’t listened to him. Why would Cerise stay in the coach where it was safe when she could risk her fool neck charging after him?

  On the staircase, Duffy passed both Cerise and Wil, taking the stairs two at a time.

  A scream ripped through the building, and Duffy increased his pace. He was through the open door of Huddleson’s apartment when Wil crested the top stair.

  Wil burst in after him, taking the scene in at a glance. Huddleson crouched in front of Lady Juliana, his eye swollen, the sleeve of his wrapper torn. A man’s body flew through the air, and Duffy pounced after it. Both men landed onto a square wooden table, splintering its legs, and crashing to the floor.

  Wil stepped forward, but Cerise grabbed his arm. “Let your man take care of it.”

  He rolled to the balls of his feet. “But…” A glass flew over the settee, and Wil swung Cerise to his other side. The glass crashed into the wall behind him. “I’m not accustomed to just watching other people fight. And I’m responsible for Duffy.”

  The man in questions drew his arm back and plowed his fist into the assailant’s face.

  Cerise nodded at him. “Does it look like he needs help?”

  The other man, who Wil could see was Pickens, staggered to his feet, dabbing at the blood running from his nose. He narrowed his eyes and pulled an eight-inch blade from his boot.

  Cerise nudged his arm, pushing him forward. “All right. Now he needs help.”

  Wil tugged his coat off her shoulders and wrapped it around his arm. The brass candlestick Lady Juliana had waved about rolled on the floor, and he grabbed it with his other hand as he circled the settee.

  Pickens angled his body, keeping an eye on both Duffy and Wil. He slashed the blade through the air. “Stay back.”

  Duffy took a step forward. “That isn’t going to happen.”

  “Don’t be a fool.” Wil boxed him in from the other side. “Your only chance is to put the weapon down and beg the courts for mercy.”

  The secretary answered with another slash of his knife.

  “Why?” Duffy asked. His gaze darted down to the floor than back up. He shot Wil a look. “Why would you try to harm Lady Juliana?”

  Wil looked down, saw nothing but a faded rag rug, and glanced back at Duffy.

  Pickens snorted. “Why do you think?”

  “Money.” Duffy again nodded to the rug, and Wil finally picked up on the message. He nodded.

  “Who’s paying you?” Wil asked, drawing the man’s attention his way.

  With a speed surprising considering his bulk, Duffy dropped to kneeling, grabbed the edge of the rug, and pulled.

  The rug shifted under Pickens’ feet, sending him staggering. Wil checked the man’s knife hand with his wrapped arm, and smashed the end of the candlestick into the secretary’s mouth.

  He went down in a heap, unmoving.

  Duffy dusted off his hands as he stood.

  “That was sharp thinking,” Wil said.

  “That was amazing.” Huddleson rose, holding Lady Juliana’s shuddering form close. He dragged an appreciative look up and down Duffy’s body, and the tips of the investigator’s ears went red.

  “You’re unharmed?” Duffy asked Lady Juliana.

  “The blighter pushed in here and punched me in the face.” Huddleson pressed his fingertips to his puffy eye. “I’d say that’s harm.”

  “I wasn’t asking you,” Duffy growled.

  Cerise hurried to Wil’s side and unwrapped the coat from his arm. “Must you always throw yourself in the path of danger?” She pushed her finger through the slit Pickens’ blade had made then grabbed his arm, turning it this way and that. When she was satisfied no corresponding cut marred his shirtsleeve, she dropped his arm and huffed. “You are never allowed to complain about my profession again.” She glared up at him, her lips pressed in a pretty pout, her brows drawn together.

  He dug his knuckle into his breastbone. Cerise didn’t have many people in her life whom she cared about, but he knew in that moment that he was one of them.

  It wasn’t enough, however. Not to allow for a future for them. He hadn’t spontaneously become a better person worthy of her. She hadn’t suddenly decided to make room for a serious relationship into her busy life.

  And even though he kept telling himself he couldn’t keep having one more night with her, that the pain when she tossed him aside was too great, his resolve weakened. If she’d have him, he was hers until morning.

  “You can clean up here,” he told Duffy. “I’m taking Miss DuBois home.”

  Duffy blinked. “But… Pickens.” He pointed at the heap on the floor.

  “Call the magistrate.” Wil shook out his coat and tucked it around Cerise’s shoulders.

  “And Lady Juliana….”

  “We can take her back to her brother in the morning.”

  The woman in question jerked her head up, narrowing her eyes.

  Duffy cast an uncomfortable glance at Lady Juliana and Huddleson. “Sir, I really think—”

  “That you can handle it? Good.” He ushered Cerise through the door and kicked it closed with his heel.

  “Wil, that was hard of you.” But her lips tipped upwards and she edged closer to him as they descended the stairs.

  “You like me hard.”

  She smothered a laugh before pausing in front of the carriage. Her chest expanded with her sigh. “Yes.” He dragged his gaze back up to her face to catch her defeated smile, one he didn’t appreciate even though he knew what it meant.

  “Take me home, Wil. Show me just how hard you can be.”

  He grabbed her hand and all but tossed her into the carriage. She might be giving him sad smiles now, ones full of defeat for this merry-go-round they couldn’t get off of. For this failure they both couldn’t overcome. But by the time he was through with her, she would be so sated she wouldn’t even be able to remember failure’s name.

  Chapter Four

  They didn’t make it to her apartments. Wil directed the driver to return them to his offices, and even those few blocks felt like an eternity.

  She tugged at the buttons to his waistcoat as he kicked open the front door. “One”—she dragged her mouth down his throat—“last time.” It was a lie and she knew it. There was still too much heat between them, too much passion remaining to be exorcised.

  One day it would be their last time, a day that would break her heart. But that was a worry for tomorrow.

  He only grunted in response. But then, she didn’t really care what his mouth did, not as long as his hands kept sliding their way up her gown, trailing up her thighs, and…

  “Mon Dieu.”

  Wil wrapped an arm around her waist and held her against his hard body. She barely had time to push the door closed before he was striding across the main room, heading to his personal office.

  He found her mouth, his lips aggressive, demanding. He tugged on her bottom lip with his teeth, opening her to his tongue. She met his parry, sparred with him for dominance. The sound of a seam tearing reached her through her haze, and she didn’t know if it was his clothes that tore or hers.

  Her gown sagged off her shoulder. All right. It had been hers.

  Wil trailed his lips down her neck, and she arched for him. The bristle on his jaw scraped her skin. Pushing her loose bodice down her breast. Wil enveloped her nipple with his mouth, pulling on her through her chemise, the moistening cotton abrading her sensitive nub.

  Her core pulsed. “Why is it like zis with us?” She clasped the back of his head. “Why can’t we stop?”

  He raised his head, his eyes searing. “You know.”

  The back of her throat burned. She dropped to her knees, avoiding his gaze. Yes, she did know. She reached for his falls. She’d known ever since their first time.

  They were nearly perfect together. If she had been a normal woman, they would have been wed. If she didn’t have a career that she loved, that was all-consuming, and one that Wil didn’t disapprove of. If she’d been raised to show a husband the right kind of love.

  If she’d been whole, able to provide him with children.

  They might have had a chance if she’d had all that.

  She jerked his smallclothes down his hips, exposing his ruddy length.

  But she didn’t have that.

  She had this. Intrigues and good old-fashioned tupping. She took him in her mouth, swallowing him deep, drawing a groan from this man she cared too much about.

  She adored the pleasure she could bring to this man, almost as much as what he in turn gave her. And the way Wil made her feel was more than most had. She would have to be grateful for that.

  “Cerise.” He wound a lock of her hair around his index finger. His hips thrust gently. “You feel so good.”

  She swirled her tongue over his velvety hardness, cupping his bollocks. She sucked and licked and stroked, eager to taste his loss of control only to have Wil pull from her mouth with a muttered curse.

  He gripped the back of her neck and dragged her up his body. His breath skated across her lips. “I want to be inside you when I spill. I want to feel your crisis squeezing my cock just before I mark you with my seed.”

  Her lungs seized. Her gaze flicked back and forth between his eyes. She saw so much there. How much he cared for her. How beautiful he thought she was.

  And how much she was going to hurt him.

  Her heart burned. It was times like these she wished she were normal. That she wanted the things most women did. But she couldn’t give him what he wanted. Either she would suffocate in a traditional relationship, or he would.

  She closed her eyes, closed him out, and crushed her mouth to his.

  Wil gripped her hips, pulling her tight to his erection. His fingers were punishing, and when he flipped her around and pressed her chest to his desk, she knew he hadn’t been fooled. He understood she was trying to avoid the intimacy.

  And he didn’t like it.

  It was better this way. She didn’t do tenderness.

  He jerked her gown and chemise up over her hips. Air cooled the heated flesh of her legs and arse. He slapped her right cheek, and her channel squeezed.

  She gripped the edge of the desk. It was going to be one of those kinds of nights. Where Wil let his emotions rule.

  She rubbed her legs together, the ache at the apex of her thighs increasing.

  He pressed against her, his cock nestling in the crease of her bum. He planted his hands by the sides of her head. “You destroy me every time I see you yet I keep coming back for more.” He scraped his teeth over her shoulder. “I’m a fool for you. You make me a fool. Even knowing this, I’ll be back again whenever you let me.”

  The pain in his voice was too much to bear. She rocked her hips against him. She couldn’t help his heart. But she could satisfy his body.

  “Take me, Wil.” She pressed her cheek to the smooth wood of his desk. “Take me so hard I forget my own name.”

  He slid his palm over her bottom. He rubbed his fingers along her crease, the pressure a tease. He sucked her earlobe into his mouth. “Are you certain it’s your name you want to forget?” He dipped his finger into her core, moistening the tip before circling her clitoris, but never making direct contact. “I think it’s mine you wish to wipe from your memory. My touch you wish you didn’t crave.”

  He flicked her nub, and she stifled a cry.

  “But I won’t let you forget,” he whispered. “After tonight, you’ll have screamed my name so many times it will be imprinted in your memory forever.”

  He plunged two fingers into her core, testing her readiness. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll feel me tomorrow when you’re pretending there’s nothing between us.” He gripped her thigh and tugged her leg up and onto the desk so her knee was by her hip. His thick crown nudged at her opening.

  Cerise gripped the desk, prepared for a hard thrust. But Wil pressed forward in one slow, smooth glide. When she thought there was no way he could go deeper, Wil jerked his hips and took the last inch.

  Her shoulders tensed. She was so full. Their connection so intense. And she didn’t want it to end. Didn’t want them to end. Perhaps they could work—

  Wil eased back, making every nerve ending in her channel light up, and slammed back home.

  A cry escaped her lips.

  He gripped her leg with one hand and the back of her neck with the other as he fucked her. Each stroke was measured, hard. He worked her body like a machine. Each thrust ratcheted her need higher. Every clench of his fingers into her skin bound them closer.

  “Wil?” Her breath caught when he did that hip-swivel thing she liked so much.

  “Yes, sweetheart?” He trailed his hand down her spine, her body rolling up to instinctively meet his touch. He settled his palm over her arse, stroking his thumb up and down between her cheeks.

  “Perhaps”—she lifted her hips for his next invasion—“we should make zis arrangement more permanent.” This felt too good to ever stop.

  He stilled, buried deep inside her, his only movement that damn thumb driving her mad. “How permanent?”

  She clenched her core, feeling every inch of that delicious hardness in her tight clasp. “Have you ever had a mistress, Wil? If not, I promise to make the experience memorable.” She could be Wil’s mistress. Save her nights after her performances for him. Give, and take, all the pleasure they could.

  And give him the opportunity to find another woman who would make a good wife. Someone who could give him children. Someone whose only dream was to support those of her husband.

  She clenched her hand. Yes, she could be his mistress. Obviously, walking away from him wasn’t an option. She’d tried too many times before and failed. Becoming his demimonde was the only option that remained.

  “My mistress.” His voice was flat. “An option that demeans us both. Also one I couldn’t afford.” He circled his thumb over her tight pucker, the illicit sensation making it hard for Cerise to think. “It’s my understanding men are supposed to supply their mistresses with apartments and jewels.”

  He bent over her back, hovering his mouth over hers. “I have nothing to offer you but my honor. My fidelity. My body.” He kissed the edge of her lips. “I know it’s not enough, not for a woman like you, but let’s not pretend you could ever be my mistress.”

  She squirmed, whether from his words or from that damned thumb, she didn’t know. “That is not…”

  He pulled out until only his crown was notched in her opening, then pounded back deep.

  “I didn’t mean…”

  He synchronized the movements of his thumb and his cock, the tip of that finger just barely breaching her opening on each drive.

  Her mind emptied. Even her heart no longer ached. Only the sensations building in her body mattered. She wanted to tell Wil that she was the one who wasn’t enough, but her tongue wouldn’t cooperate.

  He grunted behind her, his breathing growing labored. His body pistoned into hers, the slap of their skin loud in the night.

  She scratched at the wood, her body coiling tight. “Harder,” she demanded.

  He obliged. The edge of the desk dug into her hips, but she wasn’t going to ask him to temper his ardor. She pressed back against him, his thumb plunging deeper, and she moaned. She’d never felt this way before. Never had her body felt so alive except under Wil’s ministrations.

  He gathered her hair with his other hand, pulling her back as he hammered forward. “I’ve never wanted anything more than I want you.” He thrust faster, his cock thickening. “Only you.”

 

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