Beautiful Things: Second Sons Book One

“Burke.” She sat up with a wince. “You cannot be here. You must leave at once.”

Heavens, he looked divine. His black trousers were slung high on his hips and his shirt was undone at the neck, exposing him down to his sternum. His sleeves were rolled to the elbow. He had the audacity to smirk. “No one saw me,” he said, voice low.

She rolled off the bed, letting her shift fall to cover her legs, as she snapped her book shut and tossed it on the bed. “That is not the point! You cannot be in here.”

“I’m not hearing that you don’t want me in here,” he said in that teasing tone. “Only that I ought not to be…”

Heat pooled in her core. Oh, she wanted him here. But he was most definitely not invited. To take such a liberty was an affront she couldn’t excuse. She crossed her arms over her chest, for her shift did nothing to conceal the outline of her peaked nipples, the curve of her hips. The idea of him seeing her like this made her tremble, even as she fought her righteous indignation.

“Fine, I don’t want you in here. There, does that satisfy?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw as he made no move to leave. Should she throw the book at him? No, it would probably make too much noise…but dropping her shift to the floor would make no noise…

Rosalie Harrow, don’t you dare.

He leaned casually against the door, but his eyes burned through her. “Tom said you were hurting,” he murmured. “Aching, I believe, was the word he used.”

Her pulse raced faster at that possessive look. “Oh, I see,” she whispered. “Tom came to see me today, and now you’re jealous. Is that it?”

“Don’t call him ‘Tom.’”

Her anger flared. “I will call him Tom if I wish, and it can be nothing to you. If you want me to call you by your Christian name, you’ll have to reveal it first.” Her chest rose and fell rapidly as silence stretched between them.

“Is Tom right?” he said at last. “Are you aching tonight, love?”

“I’m fine.”

“Prove it. Lift your arm.”

Her heart fluttered at the command, but her mind rebelled. “You lift your arm. Lift it to turn the handle, and leave.”

He glared at her as he took a step forward. “Rosalie, lift your fucking arm.”

A soft whimper escaped her lips as she dropped her hands to her sides. She lifted her left arm chest high. “See? I’m fine. Doctor Rivers has already seen me—”

“Lift it higher.”

She hated the way her body felt so ready to follow his commands. She raised it another inch. “There. Happy?”

“Higher,” he growled, taking yet another step closer. “Above the shoulder.”

With a huff she jerked her arm up. “God, you’re impossible—ahh—” She winced and dropped it to her side.

His eyes flashed in triumph. “See? You’re hurt.”

“Doctor Rivers said it would heal in a few days,” she replied, rubbing the curve where her shoulder met her neck. If she moved it wrong, it felt like being stabbed.

“Rivers is fine when it comes to fevers and birthing babies,” Burke scoffed. “But he’s hopeless at tending this kind of injury. Let me help you.”

She blinked, mouth opening slightly. She snapped it shut before narrowing her eyes. “You’re not a doctor, Burke.”

“No,” he replied. “But I’ve sustained a lifetime’s worth of similar injuries and fully recovered. You jarred your shoulder in your fall. I know how to ease the pain.”

She ought to show him the door. There was too much left unspoken between them. She didn’t want to hurt him or lead him on…any more than she already had. “Burke, we can’t…” She blushed, falling into silence as she fought to control her trembling. She was a coward. But if you tell him the truth, he might leave…

“I can’t sleep knowing you’re hurting,” he admitted, voice low. “If you’re in pain, I can help. Just say yes, love.”

Yes.

“What will you do?”

He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a corked vial. “Hot oil massage.”

Yes, yes, yes. She was screaming inside.

“You’ll have to permit me to touch you,” he added, the corner of his mouth tipping into a smile.

The words went straight to her core. “Burke, I don’t think—”

“Neither do I,” he said, stepping closer. “Not when it comes to you. I just…do. You’re in pain and I want to help you. Please let me.”

His words hung in the air between them.

Finally, Rosalie took a deep breath. She was surely going to hell. “Fine.”

Burke raised a surprised brow. “Yes?”

“Yes,” she said on exhale. “What should I do?”

He glanced around the room. “Get the candle,” he whispered. “Set it on the table next to that chair.” He pointed to one of the striped chairs near the empty hearth. He moved past her to the dressing table in the corner and grabbed the cushioned stool.

Rosalie picked up the candle, praying her hand wouldn’t shake. Two more still burned on the mantle. Shadows played in the corners as she moved across the room.

Burke was waiting. “Sit here,” he said. “Face away from me.”

Taking a few shallow breaths, she sat on the stool, back straight, hands folded in her lap. Burke filled the space behind her, his long legs stretching to either side of her as he grabbed the stool and slid her a few inches closer.

“This will only take a moment.”

She glanced over her shoulder to see he was holding the glass vial over the flickering candle, warming the contents. “What is it?” she whispered, terrified he might be able to hear the pounding of her heart.

“Just a simple oil infused with comfrey and frankincense…and a bit of lavender,” he replied. “Untie your shift and expose your left shoulder.”

She froze. “Burke—”

“Relax,” he murmured. “I made you a vow yesterday and I’ll not break it. If you expect me to kiss you tonight, you’re going to have to ask me nicely first. Agreed?”

She turned away with a nod. Nothing was going to happen without her permission. She could trust him. She could wait to tell him she would never marry him. Two people could enjoy each other’s touch without it leading to the altar.

You’re cruel and deluded, Rosalie Harrow.

Raising a shaking hand, she tugged at the tie between her breasts until it gave. Loosening the collar of her shift, she exposed more of her injured shoulder.

He scooted closer. “If this hurts too much, tell me and I’ll stop.”

She gave another nod.

He uncorked the little vial. “Move your hair to your other shoulder.”

She swept her dark curls over to her right shoulder, leaving her left shoulder bare. An intoxicating smell filled her nose as he rubbed his hands together; spicy and warm, with soft notes of lavender. The sound of the slick oil in his palms made her stomach flip. He was so close she could feel his breath fanning over her neck. She couldn’t contain her shiver. It raised gooseflesh down her arms, and she bit her lip to keep from letting out a moan.

He started with one hand. The warmth of the oil felt amazing, and the smell was heavenly. A soft sigh escaped her as his other hand joined in, both working to define the shape of her shoulder and the curve of her neck.

“Hold still,” he murmured.

She groaned as his touch turned from gentle strokes with soft fingers to an iron grip. He kneaded the stiff muscles, holding her tight with both hands. Her body turned to jelly as he worked the aches away. It hurt, to be sure, but it was a hurt she didn’t ever want to end. He paused twice to add a bit more oil to his hands.

“I’m going to start moving the joint a bit,” he cautioned. “This may hurt.”

She readied herself for the pain.

He scooted all the way to the edge of his chair. With one hand tight on her shoulder, he used his other to move the arm.

A groan turned into a gasp, which she quickly had to stifle as a cry. “Ouch—”

“Sorry,” he soothed in her ear, his hands going soft as velvet as they stroked over her shoulder, up her neck, down her arm. “Once more. Be strong. I’m rotating it back a bit.”

It was painful as he kneaded the muscles, all while rotating the shoulder. She sighed, doing her best to stay quiet. Before he was done, he had her raising her arm at the shoulder until she felt more of a dull ache than the sharp, piercing pain of a knife stabbing her.

“How’s that?” His hands were smooth as silk again.

“Better,” she whispered, lips barely moving. “So much better…thank you, Burke.”

He dropped both his hands away, leaving her swaying on the stool, desperate for his anchoring touch. She awkwardly tugged on her shift, trying to cover her naked shoulder.

Burke corked the little vial and wiped his hands with a handkerchief. “If it still pains you tomorrow, we can do this again,” he offered.

She made no response. Her senses were swimming. Then her breath caught as his fingers trailed softly down her neck. He started just behind her ear, setting a fire in her skin as the tips of his fingers brushed their way down her back to the point where her shift sat askew.

“Rosalie,” he whispered, the warmth of his voice making her burn. He pressed his forehead lightly against her shoulder. “I’ll say goodnight.”

He was leaving and she wanted to scream. Not yet. It was too much…and not nearly enough. It was right that he should go. He shouldn’t even be here.

He shifted away from her and stood. “Try to get some sleep,” he murmured.

Her hand shot out as he passed, and she held on to his wrist. “Wait,” she heard herself say. “Not yet. I—”

Burke’s arm tensed under her grip. “Miss Harrow…did you want something else?”

She gasped as he turned, using her grip on his wrist to pull her up off the stool. He spun her around and tucked her tight against him. Then he dropped his hands to her hips and lowered his head to run the tip of his nose along her bare shoulder and up the curve of her neck. She couldn’t contain the moan that escaped her lips.

“What do you want, love?” he whispered against her ear. “Say it.”

She wanted to feel his hands on her. Just a few more seconds of stolen ecstasy. But Burke liked to tease, liked to circle his opponent, liked to win. She knew he wanted to kiss her. Not for what it would feel like, but for what it would represent: him claiming her resolve. She moaned, pressing her hips against him, feeling the way he eagerly pressed back.

He dug his fingers in her hair, pulling her head back to look in her eyes. “Those sounds are driving me mad. Please—god—”

She grinned. “Should it not be me begging for your kiss? Am I not to ask nicely?”

“Yes, beg,” he rasped, his hot breath sending shivers through her body. His hands roved, sliding over her bare shoulders and under the edge of her shift to stroke the swell of her breasts. “Tell me what you need, you temptress…you fucking siren.”

She was a siren, for she had lured him in without knowing what he wanted, what he expected from her in return. It was too cruel. Rosalie couldn’t do it. She stiffened in his arms. “Burke—”

He stilled too, his fingertips grazing the swell of her breasts. “Tell me to stop,” he whispered, his voice pained. “If you need this to stop—”

“No.” She turned in his arms, sliding her hands up his chest to his shoulders. She loved the feel of him in just his shirt. No coat, no waistcoat. She wanted to press her face into his chest and breathe him in. “I want you so badly…but I’m not…I don’t—”

He tipped her chin up with a finger. “Don’t be afraid of me. Speak plainly.”

“Whatever happens tonight, I will not consider myself ruined in the morning…and if you try to propose to protect my honor, I will say no.”

He chuckled. “Are you trying to tell me you’re not pure as the driven snow? Did you really expect the bastard son of a whore to be fastidious about that?” He tucked a few loose strands of her hair behind her ear.

“Don’t call yourself that,” she whispered, leaning into his touch.

“Why not? It’s the truth.”

She closed her hand over his wrist, meeting his gaze again. “You are so much more than that. I don’t…labels cage us in, they trap us. Could you ever accept me without one?”

“I do accept you.”

“Please don’t try to cage me,” she whispered, pressing her face against his chest. “I couldn’t bear it.”

“Hey,” he pushed gently on her shoulders, willing her to look at him again. “I would never hurt you.” He lowered his forehead to hers and sighed. “Let me make you feel good.”

She felt his hardness at the small of her back as he turned her around with firm hands. He groaned deep in his throat, both hands plunging inside the top of her shift to cup her breasts. She gasped, the sound turning into a whine as he caressed them. She squirmed, wrapped in his arms, her head lolling back against his chest.

“Tell me what you want, little siren. What will ease the ache?” The gravel in his voice made her shake as she pressed wantonly against him with her hips. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

There was her teasing Burke, still trying to get her to break. Her smile grew with her resolve. Whatever game they were playing, she was winning this round. “No kiss,” she replied, “…but don’t stop.”

“Fuck,” he growled. His hands seemed ready to ravage her. One slid back inside her shift to cup her breast, while the other pulled down on her sleeve to expose her shoulder. She moved her hips against him and let out another soft moan, loving his immediate response. He tweaked her nipple and she hissed.

“Christ—say it,” he growled in her ear. “Put me out of my misery.”

She sighed out another breathy, “No.”

His hands dropped to her hips, grazing downward as his fingers reached for the edge of her shift. She was practically writhing as he slowly dragged it up her thighs, not stopping until it was bunched around her hips and her sex was exposed to the room. She gasped as she felt him caress her naked skin, his thumbs gently circling the bones of her hips.

“And now?” he whispered. “Tell me what you want now.”

She tipped her head to the side, exposing more of her neck, desperate to feel him everywhere. “Touch me, Burke. Please—”

His right hand cupped her sex, and she felt sure she would die. “Are you wet for me?” he whispered. “Are you aching with it?” His fingers pressed against her as he slid them up and down, opening her. At the first proof of her desire he groaned, burying his face against the curve of her neck. “You’re so wet. My sweet siren is aching.”

“I am,” she whined. “For you, only for you.” She was going to break. She was going to kiss him, and then it would all be over.

“That’s it, love,” he whispered, his fingers moving in slow circles over her wet sex. “Do you want more?”

“God, Burke—yes—don’t stop—”

He groaned. “Yes to kissing you…or yes to my fingers in your cunt?”

She trembled all over. He wasn’t playing fair. “No kissing. More—ahh—”

He gripped her hip with his left hand, holding her tight against his hardness. His right hand slipped through the curls of her sex until he pressed a finger inside her. He moved the finger slowly in and out.

“Please, please,” she whimpered, her own arms wrapping backwards to brace against his hips.

“You’re so responsive,” he groaned. “So sweet, so beautiful, so fucking perfect. I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.” The words spilled out of him as he held her tight. He dragged his finger in and out until she was ready to collapse with need. Then he pressed a second finger inside her.

“Oh god—”

She was losing control. Was this still a game? Did she even care? She raised her good arm, snaking it around his neck as she rose on her toes, pressing herself closer to him. His fingers began pumping in earnest.

“Don’t stop—don’t—” she whined, chasing her release.

His left hand dropped lower until both were working her inside and out. “You’re close, little siren,” he whispered in her ear. “Your cunt is so tight. Come for me. Just do it quietly, or you’ll wake the marchioness.”

She swallowed her gasp, legs shaking as she shattered. Her greedy core clenched around his fingers, as she felt a wave of pleasure roll through her entire body.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his left hand moving back around her waist to help keep her standing. When her core stopped fluttering around his fingers, he pulled them out. They were both panting. “So wet,” he murmured. “Such a goddess…just one taste.”

She watched as he lifted his shiny fingers to his lips and sucked them clean. It was the most sensual thing she’d ever seen. If Rosalie was a goddess, Burke was surely a god—he stood there, dark hair sweeping over his brow, those haunting grey eyes locked on her. Now he had her taste on his tongue.

This man couldn’t play a game fair if he tried. He was born to break the rules, to live outside them. Rules and conventions and social niceties were for mere mortals. Burke was something…else. They both were, she realized with a smile.

He pushed her gently back, willing her to look at him. When she did, he stroked her cheek with an impossibly gentle hand. “Tell me this is real.”

She knew he referred to the magic between them. The force that sent sparks flying like they were a pair of firecrackers. She stroked his face in return. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. His need was so genuine, so raw—to be accepted by her, to be wanted.

“Burke…look at me,” she whispered.

He sighed against her hand, not opening his eyes.

“Look at me,” she repeated.

His eyes opened; so vulnerable, so beautiful.

“This is real,” she admitted. “Nothing has ever felt more real.”

He dropped his head back to her uninjured shoulder, nuzzling his face against her hair as he took a deep breath. “I want you,” he whispered. “Don’t ask me to stay away.”

She wrapped her arms around him, her petite frame dwarfed by his broad shoulders. She didn’t know what this would mean for their futures, but heaven help her, in this moment she could only give him the truth. “I want you too.”

He pulled her tighter against him. “Christ, love. Will you let me kiss you now?”

She smiled. “No…but that was a very valiant effort. I shall kiss you again, but not tonight.”

He pulled back. “Why not?”

His look was so petulant, so pouting and pathetic, that she couldn’t help but laugh. “Because you broke into my room quite uninvited and risked scandal and the ire of the Corbins, and we cannot reward such reckless behavior…as much as I might want to,” she added with a smile, pressing her hip ever so gently against the proof of his own desire.

He groaned. “I miraculously healed your shoulder,” he challenged.

“Hmm, I’m pretty sure Doctor Rivers did most of the work,” she teased. “Now I think it best we say goodnight before we’re caught.”

He sighed and tipped her head back, about to give her a parting kiss. Realizing his intent, he pulled away with a scowl. “Fucking temptress,” he muttered under his breath.

She understood his frustration. Kissing him felt like it ought to be the most natural act in the world. There was breathing, tying a bonnet ribbon, and now kissing Burke. She couldn’t wait to do it again. But now that she’d drawn her line in the sand, she felt it only right she stick to it…at least for tonight.

Perhaps tomorrow. Yes, she felt quite sure that, after another night of restless sleep, another night of waiting and wanting and aching for his touch, all bets would be off.