She passed her tongue over her suddenly dry lips, deeply aware of his close scrutiny. “Yes, I’d live there for some time. That’s why I want a lease rather than paying rent. If I’m to make alterations, I want to ensure I can use them.”
“What you say makes sense.” He didn’t move away, although his proximity was making her nervous. “However, my sister, Lady Dorcas, is a keen gardener and she might be disturbed if serious changes were made to the garden.”
Annie hadn’t seen the gardens, only the ones of the house at the end of the row, when she’d peered through the garden gates. “I would need some of the space for workshops. They cannot all be in the house. I would need to see the house properly before I agreed to a lease,” she said, trying desperately to keep this discussion on a business level. But while he was asking her the questions she’d expected, his eyes said something else. They spoke of intimacy, of promises, of making more of this encounter.
For the first time since John died, Annie let herself dream of something other than the business, her sons and their increased prosperity. She’d thrown herself into the challenge, subsuming all the passion in her nature into achieving it. Somewhere along the way it had become more than earning a living and keeping her family off the streets. It had grown to ambitions of creating quality items for people like her.
But that lay in the future, although this was one step toward it.
“Of course,” he said smoothly. “Though I would prefer to show it to you myself.” He lifted his hand, as if to touch her cheek, but held it a few inches away. What was she thinking when the urge to meet it took her? She wanted to close her eyes, lean her cheek into his palm and let him take control. Such impulses were foreign to her. To give someone else jurisdiction over her was unthinkable.
A knowing expression entered his eyes, warming and softening their expression. “Perhaps I should show you where I used to sleep in the house. Would you use the same room? Sleep in the same bed? We left it behind when we moved. It should still be there.” Snaking a hand around her waist, he drew her closer.
She didn’t pull away.
“Madam, I find you utterly bewitching. I am about to test a theory.”
His breath heated her skin as he brought his mouth down on hers.
His lips caressed hers, his tongue stroking her lips until she parted them and let him in. His hold on her tightened. Annie flung out her hands for balance, finding purchase on the silk of his waistcoat, roughened by gold threads that snagged against her gloves.
Her comfortable world exploded in heat and desire.
He delved deep, and she responded, her head going back until he dug one hand into her hair, holding her in place. His caresses thrilled her, took her to a place she’d never visited before, never dreamed existed.
Firmly and deeply, he explored her until she moaned into his mouth. A soft thud indicated her hat falling off, and landing—somewhere, she didn’t care where. His fingers rounded her skull, his other hand spread over her back, spanning the distance between her shoulder-blades. He took his time, caressing her with his tongue, building her arousal to a height she couldn’t define.
When he moved away, she pressed closer, urging him on because otherwise she’d have to stop and think.
Thinking was the last thing she wanted to do. Every tenet she had grown up with, every moral impulse her parents had instilled in her, every Sunday sermon she’d endured—all of it told her she shouldn’t do this. But inside, her body awoke, as if from a long sleep.
Why had nobody told her this lay in wait for her?
With a sound suspiciously like a chuckle, he moved away, only to return. He came at her from a different angle, drawing her closer to lay her head on his shoulder, while he kissed her and kissed her.
The initial overwhelming surge of passion settled and receded enough for her to think. The world surged in on her with a rush. When she pulled away he made a sound of protest and drew her back, but she insisted, pushing harder.
He released her quickly, so she had to grab the edge of his desk to retain her balance. She swallowed, staring at him. He spun around, then turned back to her. “I’m not apologizing.”
“No.” He was too arrogant for that. The aristocracy were all the same, demanding without paying the price. But even as she told herself that, the words rang hollow in her head. She was as much at fault as he. “Neither am I. But you should know everything I told you was true. I am a widow, searching for a way to expand my business. I want that house, but I don’t want a lover and I will not pay for the place with my body.”
He closed his eyes in a slow blink. “Are you sure?”