Notorious Pleasures (Maiden Lane #2)(64)

Griffin snorted softly. Lady Hero would certainly be happy if he went under. One less gin maker among hundreds—if not thousands—in St. Giles. But then maybe she was right to disapprove of his business.

The thought of her disapproval brought other thoughts of her as well. He remembered the little line that knit itself between her delicately arced brows when she lectured him. The way her pale rose lips softened when she listened to his response. And how her lashes had drifted closed when he’d kissed her neck.

Griffin groaned and his hand drifted along his thigh to his cock, already half erect. He brought up images of those sweet little breasts, the red nipples large in contrast and somehow unbearably erotic. They’d been drawn hard and tight for him, and he imagined biting gently down on them. He could almost hear the moan she’d make at his touch.

He grasped his cock in his hand, pulling up, feeling his own hardness, the exquisite sensitivity at the tip.

He’d draw the laces from her stays, bare her fully for his own enjoyment. And under her skirts, there lay that sweet, warm, wet—

Downstairs, someone began pounding on his front door.

Griffin groaned. Surely there was someone to answer it. He didn’t have many servants, but he did have enough to answer a bloody door. Or perhaps the caller would give up.

But the knocking continued.

“Hell,” he spat, letting go of his now-rigid cock. The visitor might be Nick Barnes with more news.

Griffin climbed from the tub, splashing water on the rug, then swiped a towel across his body and pulled on breeches and a shirt. He ran down the stairs barefoot and stomped across the hall floor to fling open the door.

“What?”

He found himself glaring into Lady Hero’s startled gray eyes. She glanced down the length of him, making him very aware of the damp shirt clinging to his chest and the breeches covering his half-aroused state.

Her gaze snapped back up to his. “Oh!”

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, thank God!” she said low. “I’d heard reports this morning of a gin still burning in St. Giles. They said a man was dead.”

“Well, it wasn’t me,” he said, not very graciously.

“I can see that.” She cleared her throat. “Might I come in?”

He looked up and down the street. No one appeared to be paying attention to them. He reached out, wrapped his fingers around her upper arm, and yanked her inside his house.

Lady Hero stumbled in with a squeak. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Trying to salvage your reputation,” Griffin muttered. He turned and stomped into the library without bothering to see if she’d follow. “What do you think you’re doing visiting a bachelor’s residence—unaccompanied—in the middle of the day?”

“I wanted to make sure you were all right,” she said from behind him. “And I need to talk to you.”

Griffin grunted. The damned woman no doubt wanted to continue her harangue about the still. He picked up a decanter of brandy and splashed some into a glass. He turned with the glass in his hand and found her frowning at the scatter of papers on his desk. Probably disapproved of the mess.

He tossed back some of the brandy. “About what?”

She turned, still frowning. “I’m sorry?”

He gestured with the glass, spilling some of the brandy onto the floor. “What do you want to talk about?”

She pursed her lips in a fussy little moue that only served to draw attention to her mouth. He had a sudden image of her mouth pursed and filled. His cock, ever at the ready, came to full, raging arousal.

Griffin slammed back the rest of the brandy.

She opened that luscious mouth. “I—”

“Perhaps you wanted to chat about the weather?” Griffin said silkily. He refilled his glass. “That would be an appropriate topic of discussion for an early morning call.”

She blinked. “I—”

He held up a finger to stop her and took another gulp of brandy. It burned going down, but his shoulder, which had been aching from this morning’s fight, began to loosen.

“Should you be drinking so much before noon?” she asked disapprovingly.

“Yes.” He glared and took another sip to prove his point. “I always drink when I’m half dressed and entertaining ladies.”

She flushed a becoming pink. “Perhaps I should come back another time.”

“Oh, no.” He set down the glass with a crack and stalked toward her. “You’ve interrupted my bath, interrupted my quite pleasurable pursuits there, in fact. You might as well tell me what you want to say.”

She stared at him, mute.

“Perhaps you wanted to take me to task for my gin-making ways yet again, hmm?” He leaned over her, not caring if he intimidated or even frightened her. “Or chide me for fucking too much.”