She scoffed. “Thank you, no. I would prefer not to be handled with kid gloves and apologies.” She tugged her hand from beneath his. The warmth of his touch was too much. Too close to what she really wanted—to what she’d wanted for her whole life.
“Apologies?”
She closed her eyes for a brief moment, shoring up her courage. “Yes. Apologies. Like the one you delivered so beautifully this morning. If I were anyone else…your opera singer…the woman across the hall…would you have apologized?”
He looked confused. “No…but you are neither of those women. You deserve better.”
“Better,” she repeated, frustrated. “That’s just my point! You and the rest of society believe that it’s better for me to be set upon a pedestal of primness and propriety—which might have been fine if a decade on that pedestal hadn’t simply landed me on the shelf. Perhaps unmarried young women like our sisters should be there. But what of me?” Her voice dropped as she looked down at the cards in her hands. “I’m never going to get a chance to experience life from up there. All that is up there is dust and unwanted apologies. The same cage as hers”—she indicated the woman outside—“merely a different gilt.”
He watched her carefully, unmoving, as the words poured out. When he did not respond, she looked up at him, only to find his expression shuttered. What was he thinking?
“Deal the cards.”
She did, and they played the next round in silence, but it was clear he was no longer playing a harmless game of twenty-one. She knew from his hard face that he would win, and her heart pounded in her chest at the thought—what would he do in the face of her outburst?
When he won, he threw his cards into the center of the table. In silence, he stood, moved to the sideboard and poured two glasses of scotch. Returning, he offered her one of the tumblers.
She took it and sipped the amber liquid, surprised when she did not sputter and cough as she had in the tavern. In fact, the liquor served only to enhance the warmth that had spread through her as she waited for Gabriel to name his next favor.
Turning away from her, he moved to one of the overstuffed chairs by the fireplace and relaxed into it. She watched as he stared into the fire, wondering what he was thinking. Was he considering taking her home? She’d certainly said enough not only to embarrass herself but also him. Should she apologize?
“Come here.” The words cut through the room, even though he didn’t redirect his attention from the dancing flames.
“Why?”
“Because I will it.”
An hour ago, she would have laughed at the imperious sentiment but, for some inexplicable reason, at that moment, Callie was drawn to the command. She stood and went to him, stopping mere inches from his right arm. She waited, the sound of her own blood pounding in her ear, the sound of her breath seeming to fill the room.
The wait was torturous.
And then he turned to her with an imperious look in his brilliant blue eyes, and said, “Sit.”
It wasn’t what she had expected. She moved stiltedly to take the other chair, but stopped as he added, “Not there, Empress. Here.”
She turned back to him, surprise and confusion in her eyes. “Where?”
He reached out a hand. “Here.”
The word echoed through the room. He meant for her to sit on his lap? She shook her head “I couldn’t.”
“You wanted to try the role on for size, lovely,” he said, the words warm and coaxing. “Come. Sit with me.”
She knew without his having to say any more that this was her chance to experience it all. With Ralston.
She moved to stand directly in front of him and met his eyes. She did not say anything; she did not have to. Within seconds, he had pulled her down onto his lap and covered her lips with his.
There was no turning back.
She gave herself up to the adventure. And to him.
Eighteen
The kiss was darker, more deliberate, more intense than any they had shared previously, and Callie had the immediate sense that Ralston was giving her the experience for which she had asked. The idea thrilled her—that this man, whom she had been pining for years, would be the one to show her the enticing, wicked place that she was so eager to know.
His tongue stroked her bottom lip as his hands roamed over her, freeing the buttons of the waistcoat she wore and deftly shucking the layers off her shoulders and down her arms before pulling the hem of her shirt from the waistband of her breeches. His warm, powerful hands settled on the soft, bare skin just above her breeches, and he took the opportunity to plunder her mouth. He searched and stroked, sending ripples of pleasure pooling deep within her as his hand stole upward, toward her breasts. She was overwhelmed by the combination of sensations from his wicked mouth and knowing fingers, and she could do nothing but wait for him to touch her where she wished…how she wished.