bedroom before heading back into the
dining room to take his leave.
“ You’re not going already!” Bronwyn
exclaimed when she saw him in his coat.
“ I’m heading North first thing
tomorrow. Early start,” Martin lied.
As excuses went, it was pretty thin, but Bronwyn’s
cheeks were rosy from drink and she wasn’t about to cross-examine
him.
“ I’ll walk you to the door,” Perry
said, rising from the table.
Out of the corner of his eye, Martin saw Violet push
back her chair as he and Perry exited the room. He struggled to
concentrate on what his friend was saying as they parted ways at
the door—something about playing squash soon, maybe catching up for
a drink if Martin wanted to talk. It wasn’t until he’d exited the
building that Martin understood that Perry had been referring
oh-so-politely and obliquely to Elizabeth and their broken
engagement.
In his own reserved, very proper way, Perry was
letting him know that if he needed to download, he was there.
Decent of him, but Martin had precious little to say about
Elizabeth. In the month since she’d called off the wedding, he’d
been surprised by how little she’d been in his thoughts. There had
been a certain embarrassment around the initial announcement, some
annoyance regarding cancellations and whatnot and there was a new
restraint between him and Edward, but he hadn’t been lying awake at
night, brooding over the wrongs done to him or how much he missed
Elizabeth.
The only woman he’d been brooding over was Violet—if
one could call ferocious fantasizing and self-gratification
brooding. He was more inclined to see it as a compulsive obsession.
One he’d been sure he would never satisfy—until Violet had slipped
her panties into his pocket.
The door opened behind him and he turned to watch as
Violet stepped out into the street. Now that they were alone, her
gaze was more skittish, less bold as it met his. As though she
wasn’t quite sure what the next step was now that they were no
longer playing a game.
He knew. God, did he know.
“ My car’s this way,” he said,
gesturing with his head.
He didn’t dare take her arm or touch her. He didn’t
trust himself. As it was, he was going to be pushing it to walk
half a block beside her without shoving her against the nearest
flat surface and taking her.
Her heels clicked on the pavement as they walked side
by side. Her hands were deep in her pockets, her chin tucked into
the collar of her coat. Her dark red hair swung down her back.
He wanted her so badly he ached.
He’d parked in the mews behind Bron and Perry’s
place, a secluded, dark space. The flash of his car lights as he
unlocked his car remotely was almost blinding.
He glanced across at Violet, about to ask if she
preferred her place or his, but she was already pushing the top
button of her coat free. Without saying a word, she slid it off her
shoulders, then opened the rear door of the Jag and stepped
inside.
Jesus. She was so fucking hot.
He yanked his own coat free, tossing it onto the car
floor, then followed it with his suit jacket. Then and only then
did he follow her inside.
Her perfume enveloped him as he reached for her. His
hands smoothed over soft fabric before finding the warmth of her
skin. She lifted her mouth to his and kissed him hungrily,
greedily.
She tasted so good. Like sin. Like every dirty
thought he’d ever had.
He pushed her onto her back, covering her body with
his, one hand already reaching beneath the hem of her skirt. His
hand slid up smooth, soft thigh and into liquid heat. Violet gave a
small, strangled sob as he traced the line of her sex, fingers
slick with her need. Her clit was a small, hard pearl when he found
it, and she trembled when he teased her with his thumb. He was
desperate to be inside her, but there was something about Violet’s
thready breathing and the way she clung to him and her needful,
deep kisses that made him want to draw this out.
He wanted her to beg for him. He
dining room to take his leave.
“ You’re not going already!” Bronwyn
exclaimed when she saw him in his coat.
“ I’m heading North first thing
tomorrow. Early start,” Martin lied.
As excuses went, it was pretty thin, but Bronwyn’s
cheeks were rosy from drink and she wasn’t about to cross-examine
him.
“ I’ll walk you to the door,” Perry
said, rising from the table.
Out of the corner of his eye, Martin saw Violet push
back her chair as he and Perry exited the room. He struggled to
concentrate on what his friend was saying as they parted ways at
the door—something about playing squash soon, maybe catching up for
a drink if Martin wanted to talk. It wasn’t until he’d exited the
building that Martin understood that Perry had been referring
oh-so-politely and obliquely to Elizabeth and their broken
engagement.
In his own reserved, very proper way, Perry was
letting him know that if he needed to download, he was there.
Decent of him, but Martin had precious little to say about
Elizabeth. In the month since she’d called off the wedding, he’d
been surprised by how little she’d been in his thoughts. There had
been a certain embarrassment around the initial announcement, some
annoyance regarding cancellations and whatnot and there was a new
restraint between him and Edward, but he hadn’t been lying awake at
night, brooding over the wrongs done to him or how much he missed
Elizabeth.
The only woman he’d been brooding over was Violet—if
one could call ferocious fantasizing and self-gratification
brooding. He was more inclined to see it as a compulsive obsession.
One he’d been sure he would never satisfy—until Violet had slipped
her panties into his pocket.
The door opened behind him and he turned to watch as
Violet stepped out into the street. Now that they were alone, her
gaze was more skittish, less bold as it met his. As though she
wasn’t quite sure what the next step was now that they were no
longer playing a game.
He knew. God, did he know.
“ My car’s this way,” he said,
gesturing with his head.
He didn’t dare take her arm or touch her. He didn’t
trust himself. As it was, he was going to be pushing it to walk
half a block beside her without shoving her against the nearest
flat surface and taking her.
Her heels clicked on the pavement as they walked side
by side. Her hands were deep in her pockets, her chin tucked into
the collar of her coat. Her dark red hair swung down her back.
He wanted her so badly he ached.
He’d parked in the mews behind Bron and Perry’s
place, a secluded, dark space. The flash of his car lights as he
unlocked his car remotely was almost blinding.
He glanced across at Violet, about to ask if she
preferred her place or his, but she was already pushing the top
button of her coat free. Without saying a word, she slid it off her
shoulders, then opened the rear door of the Jag and stepped
inside.
Jesus. She was so fucking hot.
He yanked his own coat free, tossing it onto the car
floor, then followed it with his suit jacket. Then and only then
did he follow her inside.
Her perfume enveloped him as he reached for her. His
hands smoothed over soft fabric before finding the warmth of her
skin. She lifted her mouth to his and kissed him hungrily,
greedily.
She tasted so good. Like sin. Like every dirty
thought he’d ever had.
He pushed her onto her back, covering her body with
his, one hand already reaching beneath the hem of her skirt. His
hand slid up smooth, soft thigh and into liquid heat. Violet gave a
small, strangled sob as he traced the line of her sex, fingers
slick with her need. Her clit was a small, hard pearl when he found
it, and she trembled when he teased her with his thumb. He was
desperate to be inside her, but there was something about Violet’s
thready breathing and the way she clung to him and her needful,
deep kisses that made him want to draw this out.
He wanted her to beg for him. He
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