Christ, he hated that Portia had to sneak about just to see him. With any other lady of the quality, he would have suspected it was merely the shame and possibility of scandal at it becoming known she was spending time alone with a rookeries-born ruffian like him. But he knew her fear ran far deeper than social repercussions. She feared for herself.
The knowledge ate at him, as did his inability to aid her or protect her. Even as he knew that if she refused to give him a name or a reason why, there was naught he could do. He had hesitated to make inquiries about her relatives as had been his initial instinct for fear of any further problems it would make for her. And her ensuing silence had only supported that notion.
“How long do we have?” he queried instead of addressing any of the difficulties which never loomed far from their interactions.
“An hour,” she said, nibbling on her bottom lip. “Perhaps a few minutes more.”
“Not enough.” He lowered his forehead to hers. “Not nearly enough.”
But he would take it, greedy cove that he was. Aye, he would seize it with both hands and make the most of whatever time alone with her he could manage.
“Are you upset that I’ve come?” Her eyes searched his, a frown gathering her brows. “Have I interrupted your evening? I know you are a busy man, and I would have sent word had I dared, but I am risking enough by coming to you. I didn’t wish to chance anyone discovering my true intentions and sending word to my—well. It matters not. Pray tell me I have not arrived at an inopportune time.”
She was rambling. And damn him, but the urge to kiss her senseless was stronger than his need for a next breath. He had to tamp down his longing. Remind himself he was a man who possessed at least a shred of honor where she was concerned.
Belatedly, it occurred to him that she had nearly revealed something to him.
“Sending word to whom?” he prompted, repeating the words she had spoken before abruptly changing course.
Her gaze slid over his shoulder. “I misspoke. Have I come at the wrong time? I have no wish to importune you with my presence.”
When she attempted to extricate herself from his embrace, Wolf held strong. “Cease. There is no time you could come to me that would ever be wrong, love. And nor could you importune me.”
Wolf had to tamp down the disappointment rising within, that she did not trust him with her woes. That she still refused to reveal to him who it was that she feared, who had hurt her, and why. Perhaps it would come in time. He could earn her trust. Wolf well understood that it was a treasured luxury that needed to be earned rather than simply expected.
Her stare flitted back to his, the frown yet furrowing her brows. “Are you certain?”
He decided to answer her in the best way he knew, which was to dip his head and claim her mouth in a kiss. Her lips beneath his were keen and warm and soft and he could not deny himself the pleasure of sucking on the fullness of the succulent lower before devoting his attention to the Cupid’s bow of her upper. From there, he could not control himself. His tongue sought entry, and she opened, tipping her head back on a breathy moan.
Ah, bloody, bloody hell, this was heaven and damnation all at once, the woman he wanted more than anything in his arms, the taste of her on his tongue, her breaths mingling with his, her arms wrapped around him, and yet he could only have her for the span of one goddamned hour.
He deepened the kiss, trying to show her what he could not say, the wealth of feeling that had been steeping inside him during these last few days. But despite the appalling lack of time they had ahead of them, he kissed her slowly. Lingeringly. Savoring the softness of her lips, the sweet sounds of desire she made, the way she stepped into his body, her breasts crushing into his chest. It occurred to him, as they stood entwined, hip to hip, that this woman had been made for him.
And she had come to him tonight.
Gratitude mingled with desire. She had not forgotten him as part of Wolf had feared. Like him, she must have been bitten by this same mad need, this undeniable sense of connection, as if the two of them were bonded in a way that went far beyond the simple, animalistic coupling of man and woman. Yes, his body had been joined with hers, but there was something so much bigger, so much stronger, than lust uniting them. He felt it in her kiss, in her body’s reaction to him, the way she clung to him as if she were a vine, intent upon twisting herself around him and forever remaining.
If only.
No, he could not keep her here, much as he would like. He had her for the next hour. Not enough. Never enough.
Still kissing her, he moved them to the desk, guiding her slowly backward. It did not matter that at any moment, someone could unwittingly intrude upon them. All that mattered was that she was here, in his arms, and her lips were responding to his so deliciously, her hands roaming his body as if she were overwhelmed with the urge to touch him everywhere. Her fingers traveled beneath his coat, over his shoulders and down his chest. He found her waist and settled her on the desk, not giving a damn about the ledgers which were lying open, awaiting Jasper’s perusal.
He dragged his mouth from hers at last, but he could not resist the tempting smoothness of her jaw, the silken heat of her cheek. Then lower. She tilted her head back, giving him easy access to her throat. His hands fisted in her skirts, lifting them, eager fingers skimming her stocking-encased calves and knees. He lifted and bunched fine fabric and petticoats, not stopping until her hems were pulled around her waist.
Wolf took a moment to remove his lips from where they feasted on her throat, just above her pounding pulse, to admire the sight of her, shapely, long legs on display.
“You are perfection,” he managed.
Her kiss-bruised lips canted in a wistful smile. “All too imperfect, I fear. Otherwise, I would not be here.”
“I am damned glad you are.” His voice was breathless and ragged, the ferocity of the effect she had upon him too great to hide.
“I could not stay away,” she confided softly.
The admission made a sharp stab of lust spear through him, almost sending him to his knees. Which would not have been a terrible place, given that it would have positioned his mouth conveniently near to her cunny.
“You need to attend more balls,” he growled, and then he could not resist sliding her legs apart and insinuating himself between them.
He was rigid and ready for her, and when he stepped forward, it brought his cockstand flush with the decadent heat of her quim. Just barely, he suppressed the urge to thrust against her like a mad, rutting beast. Now that he’d had her once, he could not get his fill. But he had no notion of why she had come to him tonight. Had it been for this?
“I need you.” Her throaty voice was all the reassurance he required. “Please, Wolf.”
Her fingers were on the fall of his trousers between them now, and when she grazed the head of his prick, he nearly spent then and there, even with a layer of fabric between them.
He ground himself against her palm. “Tell me what you want.”
He was prolonging the torture, he knew, but there was something about her elegant aristocratic lips saying every bawdy thing she wanted him to do to her that made him harder than an anvil.
Her eyes were dark with emerald fire, and he thought he could happily drown in them. Aye, he was that far gone, thinking maudlin, bloody mad thoughts for her, heart galloping in his chest, breath ragged. His lungs threatened to burst from his body.
“I want you inside me,” she said.