The Undoing of Daisy Edwards (A Time for Scandal) Read Online Free PDF

harder. And there it was, just like the morning before, that flame, that heat, that tension, only more, tighter, because this time I knew that I wouldn’t be disappointed.

Chapter Four
    Dominic
    I didn’t go to the theatre thinking this would happen. No, that’s not entirely true. I didn’t go to thinking it would happen at the theatre, but I went hoping it would happen, because I took a preservative with me.
    On-stage, she was mesmerising. Offstage, just looking at her made my blood heat. She looked so fragile, and so damned determined not to be. She was beautiful too, that goes without saying. Even when she was dressed as Joan of Arc, that tunic and those tights showed off every sensuous curve. I’m sure that wasn’t the intention. Maybe it’s because I’d seen them in the flesh, those long legs, that soft skin, those curves. I could have looked at her forever. Just looked. Though I’m glad I got to do more than look.
    I didn’t mean to kiss her like that. I meant to ask her out to dinner. I meant to try to be civilised, to remember what it was like to be civilised, but as soon as her mouth opened under mine, as soon as she responded to the pressure of my lips with a pressure just as fierce, any idea of civility fled.
    I’ve never been like this with any other woman. Before—before I used to pride myself on my finesse. I was a gentleman, if you know what I mean. Ladies first. But when Daisy kissed me I couldn’t think, never mind plan my next move, and I didn’t have to worry about what she wanted, because she made it very clear that she wanted exactly what I wanted. She kissed like a devil, and it happened again, that raw, ripping sense of being flayed, of having my skin torn open and having her crawl inside me, flood through me. I can’t explain, but it happened, and I couldn’t stop it, though I knew I should.
    ‘It can’t mean anything,’ she said, wrenching her mouth away, panting up at me. ‘You understand, Dominic, this doesn’t mean anything.’
    It did, I knew it did, but I also knew what she meant and at the time I was certain, pretty certain, that I agreed. ‘No,’ I said, ‘nothing. I understand.’
    I’d got rid of my jacket and my waistcoat. She’d ripped open the buttons of my shirt. I was struggling with her tunic. She tugged it over her head in one fluid movement, just as she’d removed her dress yesterday. She moved like a dancer. I made short work of the cotton thing she wore underneath. I lifted her up onto the dressing-table. She wrapped her legs tight around my hips and kissed me again. My hands were on her breasts. She has beautiful breasts.
    I watched her as I touched her. Watched her eyes slide heavily shut as I stroked those perfect hard dark pink nipples. I watched her in the mirror, the way her back arched as I caught one of her nipples in my mouth. I lifted her up to help her wriggle out of her tights and her knickers. I thought I couldn’t get any harder, but the sight of her in the mirror then—I really thought I might come.
    She was wet when I touched her. She was as tight as I was hard. I could feel her fighting me as I stroked her, just as she had the first time. Wanting. Not wanting. Like me. Fighting. I’d forgotten where we were until she bit my shoulder to stop herself crying out. I couldn’t remember whether the door was locked. I didn’t care. I felt her clenching tight around me, trying to stop herself. I didn’t want her to stop. I needed to be inside her. Just like that. One minute I was thinking,
wait
, the next minute I couldn’t, didn’t want to. And then she kissed me again, and I knew if I didn’t hurry it would be too late.
    I did remember the preservative, but only just. I tilted her towards me. She wrapped her legs around me again, digging her heels into the backs of my thighs. I looked down at her, and she was looking straight at me, her eyes dark, glittering, right with me. Then I slid inside her and she let out this tiny sound, like a