To Protect a Princess by Jess Michaels

Chapter 11

The light hit Jonah in the face and he winced. It felt like waking from a dream as he and Ilaria entered the main hall together, and he was dazed by it. He could still taste her on his tongue, still feel the rhythm of the waves of her pleasure as she came. He’d never felt anything like it, not with any woman he’d been with before.

Despite all his promises to himself, he had almost gone further. When she touched him, cupping his cock, stroking him, it had taken every ounce of discipline in his body not to pin her and take her hard and fast against the wall. Make her scream with even more pleasure. Give her every inch of himself and forget all the reasons why he couldn’t. Shouldn’t.

He blinked those thoughts away as she maneuvered them to an empty table and sat. When she looked up at him, he saw her disappointment, mixed with whatever satisfaction from her release remained.

“I need a drink,” she said, her tone cooler and more detached than it had been in the hall when it had just been them and the pulsing passion they shared. “Will you fetch me one?”

He shifted. It seemed she was ready to put a wall back up between them. And perhaps that was for the best, even though his heart ached a little at the idea.

“I’m not certain I should leave you alone,” he said, looking around at the sea of masked people.

She arched a brow up at him. “You see exactly what I do. These people have no interest in me—they are too wrapped up in their own pleasures. It will be but a moment and I will sit right here and not speak to anyone.”

He pursed his lips. She was not going to be deterred, it seemed and the last thing he wanted was to have this conversation ’round and ’round until they drew attention to themselves. And she was right that those around them were far too invested in their own games to pay attention to anyone else.

“Very well,” he grumbled. He edged off into the crowd, unable to keep himself from looking back over his shoulder to ensure she was safe. She had bent her head and was staring at her hands, clasped on the table before her.

He reached the bar and motioned to the man behind it. He was busy and held up a hand to indicate he’d seen Jonah and would join him shortly. Jonah sighed and leaned against the bar top. His entire body still felt on edge from his encounter with Ilaria in the hallway. And he wanted so much more.

“Good evening, Mr. Harlen.”

Jonah turned at the usage of his false name and found Marcus Rivers, the proprietor of the infamous club, coming through the crowd toward him. He was a giant of a man, physically intimidating, which Jonah supposed was the point considering his business. He had dark hair and green eyes that seemed to see everything around him.

The two had met years ago, when Jonah was still in the Royal Navy. A casual acquaintance outside the club had turned to an invitation to become a member. He hadn’t come all that often, but when he did, he enjoyed himself.

Never more than tonight, however.

“Rivers,” Jonah said, extending his hand. “Good evening.”

“Been a while since we saw you here. Annabelle will be pleased to hear you’ve returned,” Rivers said as the two men shook.

Jonah smiled. Annabelle had been married to Rivers for a few years and helped manage the club. He had never seen the man so settled as he was since their union. In that moment, he was a little jealous of his friend’s certainty.

“I’ll have to say my good evenings if I’m lucky enough to see her.” Jonah tilted his head. “How in the world do you keep everyone’s secret identity and real identity straight when your club does such a brisk business?”

Rivers tapped his temple. “It’s all up here, my friend. I just have to access it.”

“Remarkable.”

“I’m not sure that’s true.” Rivers looked out over the crowd. “I must say I do not know who your companion is. That is rare enough a thing.”

Jonah tensed. “I would prefer not to give her true identity if you don’t mind. She isn’t a member of the Masquerade and I doubt she would appreciate it, even though I know you are the soul of discretion.”

“Of course.” Rivers shrugged, and if his gaze filled with a fraction more interest at the subterfuge, he didn’t press. “How are things? I know there’s been some major change in the last six months.”

Jonah sighed. “Yes. Major change and I can’t say I’m comfortable in my new role. But…” He glanced over his shoulder toward Ilaria, and the next words dropped away.

A man had approached her. He was seated across from her, leaning over to speak a little closer. She lifted her gaze, found Jonah’s across the crowd, and the anxiety on her face was enough. He pushed away from the bar top and started across the room, indelicate as a bull shoving through the crowd.

Because he had to get to her. And he had to get to her now.

* * *

Ilaria watched as Jonah walked toward the bar across the room. She shifted a little in her seat as she let her expression become less cool. God, she could almost still feel his tongue on her, his fingers pressing into her flesh. She tingled at the thought and hated herself for the lack of control when he seemed to have so much.

She sighed. She’d wanted to be relaxed by that powerful moment between them, moved and changed. Instead she only felt more frustrated. What he’d given her was only a reminder of all she would lose if her mother and her brother prevailed in their vision of her future. Certainly she would never find herself pleasured against a wall in a sex club again if she married a proper man like Lord Bramwell or another of his ilk.

“Good evening.”

She glanced up to find a tall, broad-shouldered man in a plain gray mask standing over her. He had approached so quietly she hadn’t noticed him until he was right there.

“G-Good evening,” she stammered, and glanced past him toward where Jonah had gone. She couldn’t see him in the milling crowd.

“May I sit?”

Her heart rate increased immediately. The man was not doing anything wrong, he was polite beyond his incredibly intense stare, but she still felt a jolt of nervousness. Uncertainty.

“Er, my companion will be back momentarily.”

There was a flutter of a smile that tilted the man’s lips beneath his mask, and he sat even though she had given him no leave. “Then I will keep you company until his return,” he said.

She swallowed hard. “Very well.”

He leaned back in his chair and examined her closely. “You were here before.”

Her lips parted in surprise at that observation. She hadn’t been aware her brief appearance here before had been so closely monitored by anyone.

She forced herself to shut her mouth and shrug nonchalantly. “A great many people come here, sir, as indicated by the enormous crowd tonight. Whether I have ever been one of them in the past is my prerogative to share or conceal.”

A flash of annoyance passed across his face and she tensed further. There was something uncomfortable about his presence. Something…dangerous…and not in the sensual way that Jonah was. Truly dangerous.

But perhaps she was just being foolish. Perhaps she should push aside the discomfort in her belly and try to be polite to appease him.

“Indeed, you are correct,” he said, and then leaned a little closer. She scented cigar smoke on his clothes, sweet and smoky. “But you are so lovely, it would be hard to miss you.”

“While I appreciate the compliments…” she said, looking again for Jonah. The crowd had parted slightly and she saw him at the bar talking to another man. He turned his head as if he sensed her eyes on him and she flitted her gaze to the person who had joined her. Jonah stopped talking and started across the crowd toward her, unheeding of anyone he shoved aside as he went. “Here comes my companion.”

The gentleman, though she hesitated to call him such even though he had done nothing untoward, stood and pivoted to face Jonah. She noted how his stance changed, how his gaze got harder.

“No need to make a scene,” he said before Jonah could say anything. He started to walk away but bent slightly and whispered, “Good night, princess.”

She stiffened at the word. It could be construed as a cheeky endearment, but what if it wasn’t? Could he know her identity? How?

“What did he say to you?” Jonah growled, shaking as he sat down beside her and took one of her hands in his. There was something instantly comforting about that touch. She wanted to lean into him, let his arms come around her so that she could feel even more protected.

But she couldn’t. He would never allow that. She was honestly shocked he was letting her touch him at all when he pulled away any time things got too intimate between them.

“Nothing,” she lied. “He only said good night.”

He didn’t look certain, and she knew she ought to tell him the truth. But what if she did? Jonah would panic, he would drag her out of here, he would never return with her. He might even tell her brother. And all for what? A throwaway endearment from a stranger who probably meant no harm?

“Then why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” he asked softly.

She shook her head. “I’ve been so sheltered my whole life, I am not accustomed to a stranger just coming up to me like that.”

Which was true enough. And probably why she was overreacting.

“Are you certain that’s all?” he pressed.

She nodded. “I think I’m just…tired. Tonight has been eventful.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he muttered. “Shall I take you home?”

Again, she nodded, even though she wanted to push her luck. She wanted to beg him to take her to his home, not hers. To his bed, not leave her cold in her own. What would he say if she were so direct?

He would deny her. That was what he would do. She knew that like she knew the back of her hand. He’d done so already once. Was she ready to face that again?

“Yes, I think that would be best,” she said, and rose. He offered her an arm and she stared at it. Stared at him, this man who aroused such complicated and heated feelings in her. This man who so obviously wanted her and yet had the strength to turn away.

This man who had awakened things in her she had never fully felt before. It was as if she had been sleeping, put up in a tower her whole life, but now she knew what the world looked like and she could never fully go back to what she was before.

“Miss…Crawford,” he said, his voice getting rougher as he said his own name. The name she’d stolen for her own, if only for a few nights of pleasure.

“Yes,” she said, pressing her fingers into the crook of his elbow. “I’m sorry. I’m ready.”

He cast her a quick side glance, but said nothing else as he guided her through the room. She hardly saw any of the writhing bodies anymore. Didn’t hear the moans. She was too focused on her own tangled thoughts, her own worries, her own memories of what she’d done here with the man who was guiding her home.

And her fears that she might never get to experience any of it again.

* * *

Ilaria had been quiet on the drive back to the gated house where she and her family were staying. She stared straight ahead, her hands clenched in her lap. A thousand questions raced through Jonah’s head. Questions about the man who had been sitting with her at the club, because he knew she was withholding something on that topic.

But also about their encounter. Was she sorry it had happened? Was she as haunted by thoughts of it as he was? And if he dared to beg her, would she come to his bed and give herself to him?

Only he couldn’t ask those things. Not if he wanted to maintain his sanity.

She looked at him at last when he turned the phaeton down the narrow alleyway behind the house. “What…what will we do now?” she asked, her voice trembling just a fraction. But enough that it answered a great many of his questions.

He brought the horses to a stop before she twisted in his seat to face her. He held her stare evenly and he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from digging this hole even deeper, not when she was staring at him like he was some sweet treat.

“You mean now that I’ve eaten your pussy in a public hall until you clawed scratch marks in the wallpaper?”

Her breath shuddered out but she lifted her chin almost defiantly. “Yes.”

“I’m not certain,” he admitted. “It changes the tenor of our relationship, there is no denying that. Are you still intent on testing your boundaries, even after tonight?”

She drew back and stared at him. “Wait…did you…did you do that tonight in order to frighten me? To make me change my mind about wanting this taste of freedom?”

He hesitated. That was an easy answer to give, a lie to tell that would maybe create the distance he so desperately needed from this remarkable and entirely out of reach woman.

“No, Ilaria. I can say with complete honesty that I wasn’t thinking about frightening you in any way. But if you were frightened, either by the power of what we did or anything else you saw or did tonight, perhaps you should put this foolish notion away.”

Her breath caught and her eyes narrowed on him. “If you are trying to play some game, I don’t like it.”

She moved as if to climb down, but he caught her wrist, holding her in place gently. He leaned closer, until he could feel her breath on his lips. Sweet torture.

“Nothing about tonight was a game. We both know that.” He brushed his lips to hers, gentle at first, then with increasing pressure. She wound her arms around his neck instantly, practically clawing her way into his lap as she moaned his name into his mouth. God, but he wanted her. He had never felt anything like it in his life.

He pulled away before he lost all control. “Best go inside, Your Highness.”

Her mouth twitched and she shook her head slowly before she climbed down from the high rig and walked away. He watched her as she unlatched the gate. She gave him one last, long look and then she was gone.

He scrubbed a hand over his face and stared up at the starry sky. “What the hell are you doing, Crawford?” he muttered before he urged the horses into motion.

He already knew the answer to that question. And the hell he would be led to if he couldn’t rein himself in.