A Rivalry of Hearts (Fae Flings and Corset Strings, #1)

by Tessonja Odette

I’m so surprised by the color rising in his face that I can only blink back at him for several beats. Understand...

Edwina is all I see. Her pale shoulders. The dip of her cleavage. The swell of her breasts. The freckles that dance over her collarbones, mirroring the spattering of dots over her nose and cheeks, like a lake reflecting a starry sky.

Male, female, human, fae. Sex might as well have been my major at university, for I performed in bed as often as I did on stage, just to a different script. One was flesh and fucking, the other was projection and prose.

So why should this strange human woman with her horrible temper and even worse personality fluster me so?

stiff peaks.” His eyes meet mine across the coach as he says the last two words. Bastard. I know what he’s playing at now. He’s trying to keep Edwina’s breasts at the front of my mind.

“I prefer small soft peaks, personally,” Monty says, somehow managing to keep his tone somber. “What about you, William? Do you prefer small peaks or large peaks? Of meringue.”

lol

Her hand falls upon Daphne’s back in an idle stroke. The pine marten stiffens and rounds on the girl, teeth bared. “I am not a pet.”

“Daffy Dear is feral indeed,” Monty says to Jolene,

“But I can say, in general, men simply want to please their lovers. We want to do whatever makes you feel good.”

lol if only

“What makes me feel good.” She echoes his words slowly as if they’re foreign to her.

Monty’s brows lift. “Don’t tell me…do you not know your own preferences? Your favorite positions? The place...

“Is that so?” Monty says, stifling a laugh. “Well, if you’re ever curious to explore in a safe and neutral place, Miss Danforth, come to me.”

“Swine,” Daphne mutters. It takes all my restraint not to voice my agreement. My fingers curl into fists.

“I assure you, I would be a fully neutral test subject. I don’t do attachments, and I mean it. This isn’t one of your little books where love changes a man. I am incapable of love.”

“Did…did you just swoon, Miss Danforth?” Monty’s voice is rich with laughter.

Her shoulders slump. “It’s just…it’s exactly what one of my heroes would say, right before they settle down. I wanted to take a note of your words, but my notebook is in my carpet bag⁠—”

What would make you want to take a woman you just met to bed?” Monty tilts his head, expression thoughtful. “An eye patch,” he says. “A peg leg too.”

“Really?” Jolene stares at Monty, then exchanges a confused look with Edwina. “Why?” “It makes me think she’d be willing to do things that are arrrrrgh-rated.”

I close my eyes with a groan and rub my brow. A fuc...

Edwina bolts upright, eyes wide. “Are you telling me there’s a play of The Governess and the Rake? And it was so inappropriate for the stage that it required the implementation of a special rating system?” “Yes,” Jolene says.

Edwina gasps. “No.” “It’s true.” “No. Are you sure?” “Yes, Weenie,” I say, tone firm. “She’s telling the truth.”

Edwina’s eyes lock on mine. The sweet, elated smile that curls her lips is so open, so genuine, it makes my chest feel tight. I know her smile isn’t for me. It’s for the...

William the Stage Actor may have performed in an adaptation of The Governess and the Rake, but William the Poet would never admit as much. William the Poet hates fiction. And romance. Besides, why would I seek to make her smile?

My hand still feels warm where she touched it, and I don’t think I could maintain a straight face if she touched it again.

I stop him with a firm hand on his shoulder. He faces me with an amused look. “Can I help you, Mr. Haywood?” I step closer and lower my voice. “You will not touch Edwina.”

But that’s not all that’s written on the page. Beneath, it reads: I like smut and drivel. I release an indignant huff. That cheeky bastard.

Beneath William’s message, I write: Well, I don’t like you. Or your book. Stop trying to give this to me. Then I march over to his table and toss it onto his stack.

He leans down, bringing his face far too close. “I know your secret, love. You told me the other night.”

Despite all the actions I’ve taken to shrug off the burdens of propriety, I still carry layers and layers of all that society tried so hard to instill within me.

His façade cracks and he releases a strained groan. “Damn it, Weenie. Why are you so determined to…to…”

I bristle, certain I know what he’s fighting not to say. “Sully my virtue? Lower my value as a woman?” “Vex me,” he says through his teeth.

“That’s not my reason.” “Oh? Enlighten me then.” “I don’t need to enlighten you. My reasons are none of your business.” “What you mean is your reasons are superficial.”

“Ask me to end it,” he says, a note of pleading in his voice. “Let’s call off the bet.” The worry on his face almost works on me. Almost.

He scoffs. “Yes, because I thought you were a rational creature. If not on the outside, then at least at heart.”

I give him the falsest, coldest smile I can. “Willy boy, never underestimate a writer with research on the brain.”

I meet his haughty looks with a sneer, an exaggerated smile, or by pushing the bridge of my spectacles with a subtle display of my middle finger.

It makes me wonder if pine martens are nocturnal. If so, it might be challenging to keep a diurnal schedule. Maybe that’s why she naps so often.

He’s obviously trying to warn me to reject Monty’s proposal, but it might as well be bait. If he doesn’t want me to go to this party, then I definitely want to.

How has he yet to learn? Telling me not to do something is the surest way to get me to do it.

Who am I to stop her? Yet even as I think it, my legs twitch, begging me to move, my chest burning with annoyance at every step she takes up the stairs.

Her question catches me off guard, for it forces me to truly consider the answer. Why the hell am I following her?

All she ever does is vex me. She’s a nuisance.

Nausea tightens my stomach. It’s not that I find the display repulsive. There’s nothing repulsive about sex. It’s beautiful. Enjoyable.

But I have my reasons for disliking this place, and being here again sends memories rising to the surface. Panic. Humiliation. Shame.

“Oh, my heavens. Is this an orgy?” I rub my jaw, resisting the urge to hide my entire face behind my hand. “It’s a voyeurism club.”

“It’s incredible!” I blink at her, caught off guard by her reaction.

She lifts her palm and wiggles her fingers, leaning closer to me as she says, “Do you see the way he cups his testicles like that? It’s brilliant. Beautiful. I can use that.”

She walks over to the next alcove. I’m…stunned. She’s the only person in this entire room commenting on the public sex as if it were nothing but a painting on the wall.

Edwina is the weirdest woman I’ve ever met.

She heaves a sigh. “It’s all wrong. I’m shorter than she is and you don’t have me hefted against a wall⁠—”