The tip of her tongue emerged and she dragged it across her lips. Jack felt that caress in his cock. Does she have any idea of the dirty, depraved things I wish to do to her?
“I apologize for interrupting,” she said. “You left abruptly and I did not have a chance to thank you.”
That diverted his attention away from her mouth. “Thank me?”
“Yes, for your speech.” Another sweep of her pink tongue. “Mamie said they had a record number of donations. The highest amount they’ve ever received at a fundraiser.”
Good. His not-so-subtle nudging of a few particular gentlemen must’ve paid off. Those bastards could well afford it. “And?”
“And no one shunned me. In fact, I was quite the hero for bringing you to speak.”
“I meant what did you think of the speech?”
“It was tremendous.” The compliment came out in a breathy rush. “I hadn’t guessed you’d do anything like that, so it caught me off guard. But you were . . . quite impressive.”
Dashing and impressive?
He was starting to think she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.
Impossible.
Pitching his voice low, he asked, “Why are you really here this evening?”
Her eyes went wide. The question had startled her. Good. “I told you. I had to thank you.”
“That is what letters and telegrams are for. Tell me honestly. Why did you come all the way downtown to my club?”
She blinked a few times but didn’t drop her gaze. “You want me to say it was to see you once more in person. Is that it?”
“I hardly think it’s a lie.”
“Then you have grossly misinterpreted the situation.”
“Have I?” Without touching her, he leaned in and brought his mouth right to her ear. Near enough that she would feel his warm breath on her skin. “I think I’ve interpreted the situation correctly. You want to be here. With me.”
Her breath caught, goose bumps breaking out on her exposed skin. He was inches away, so close he could see the pulse pounding in her throat. The proof of her excitement only heightened his, and he longed to sink his teeth into the soft skin where her neck met her shoulder. It had been weeks since he’d fucked a woman and Justine would be just as good as anyone else.
Liar.
She would be better. She was so fierce and pure, so decent. A bold angel he didn’t deserve. He wanted to charm and seduce her. To pleasure her beyond reason. To absolutely wreck her.
He didn’t move and she didn’t pull away. The overhead gasolier hissed and faint noises drifted up from the club below them. Her shoulders rose and fell with the force of her rapid breaths and his cock thickened, lengthened in his trousers. He was half-hard and hadn’t even kissed her yet.
“You said I wasn’t your type.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“I lied. Shall I prove it to you?”
Chapter Nine
Justine swallowed. Hard. Mulligan was potent, heat rolling off his large body like waves from a furnace. He wore no coat, his collar unfastened to reveal the strong column of his throat. She couldn’t seem to move. Frozen by whatever was happening in this room.
Why was she here? There was no good answer for that question. She’d gone home with Mamie after the fundraiser and then snuck out of the house with one destination in mind. To see Jack.
A hum had started under her skin the second he’d descended from his carriage at the curb. It had only worsened when he walked off the opera house stage. She’d been possessed by an undeniable impulse to talk to him, to see him. But it couldn’t mean anything more. Could it?
She licked her dry lips again and Jack’s eyes flashed as he watched her mouth. It was as if an electric current ran between the two of them, a dark need she could almost taste. She’d never experienced it before, this urgent craving, as if her body belonged to someone else. Something else. An animal in heat, one incapable of higher reasoning. A creature of flesh and blood and wanting.
And he’d taunted her. Shall I prove it to you?
Oh, yes. She’d like nothing more right now. To attack and be attacked. To finally feel what the poets and storytellers meant when they talked about passion. To feel alive.
Her life had been about others for so long that she forgot what it felt like to live just for herself. To take instead of giving, giving, giving all the time. The idea of being wicked