Beautiful Things (Second Sons #1)

by Emily Rath

He was beautiful and confident, and he looked at her with open want in his eyes, as if he’d seen her and determined she was exactly what he’d been waiting for. It was enough to have her gasping for breath . . . and he’d noticed. In the stable yard just now, she was sure of it. There was a reckoning in his gaze, a promise of more.

Burke

in her voice to say, “You direct your threat at the wrong person, Your Grace. As I’ve already said, I have no interest in marriage. If any of the gentlemen under your charge seek to claim me as a wife, it will be their hearts that break . . . not mine.”

Her heart fluttered as both men took a half step forward. She swallowed and their eyes tracked the motion. Perhaps this was a mistake. She thought speaking to both of them together might cool the fire in her blood, but now her senses swam with their proximity. She’d never been so sure of anything in her life: They both wanted her.

To any lady, the most dangerous animal in England was not the wolf or the boar. It was the entitled English gentleman with an excess of charm and nothing to lose.

Rosalie’s eyes locked on Lord James. He stood not ten feet away, ankle deep in the water . . . completely naked.

“All women live their lives in a cage, sir. It is our blessing and our curse. A blessing when men fill the cage with comforts and sweets and place the cage with a goodly view of the outside world . . . a curse when we are left beating our wings against the bars, isolated and alone . . . with no way out.”

That was a lie. Those were not his exact thoughts. In fact, his thoughts were the reverse. In this moment, all he seemed to want to do was press her against the nearest obliging tree and imprint her taste on his lips, drinking of her until he was drunk.

Tom

“I would gladly kill the man who hurt you,” he said, his voice somehow soft, even as he threatened violence.

Tom

If Rosalie wasn’t more careful, she’d soon have three fools chasing after her like eager dogs on the hunt.

James

He pulled her closer, taking a deep breath, filling his lungs with her scent as she dared to do the same. His usual mulled sweetness was gone. Now he was all sweat and salt and sun. Her soul calmed at his touch, even as a fire raced in her blood. Safe alone. Always alone, the voice inside cautioned. It was a habit formed over a lifetime, and so difficult to break. No, Burke was different. He came for her, seeking her out, missing her, wanting her. I’m not alone when I’m with him.

Come in, her soul whispered. His lips pressed to hers, warm and eager and determined. She lost herself in the feel of him, in the way his body pressed against hers. His hands dug into her hair as he tipped her face up, opening her to his kiss. She drank of him, tasting the salt on his lips, feeling the heat of his mouth ready to consume her.

Burke

“Look at me like that again, and I’ll gladly take you into those trees and kiss you until you come apart.” He dared to trace his thumb over her mouth. “Before I’m done, my name will be a prayer on these perfect lips.”

Burke

He’d be damned if that was the first and last time he kissed Rosalie Harrow. She was sweet as honey and so responsive to his touch. Her every whimper and sigh was an aria sung just for him.

Burke

“I’ve waited twenty-seven years to find one single person who could hold my attention the way you do, love,” he replied. “I’m a patient man. It will make it all the sweeter when you set aside this ludicrous notion of restraint. We are inevitable.”

Burke

“Tell me what you want, little siren. What will ease the ache?” The gravel in his voice made her shake as she pressed wantonly against him with her hips. “Do you want me to kiss you?” There was her teasing Burke, still trying to get her to break. Her smile grew with her resolve. Whatever game they were playing, she was winning this round. “No kiss,” she replied, “ . . . but don’t stop.”

Burke dragged his hands through his hair. James had never seen him this way about a woman. “If she’s moving into this house, and pushes me away, I can’t stay,” Burke muttered. “She thinks it can just be about sex, that I’ll pine after her body and not want to claim her soul. She’s mad. She doesn’t understand the power she holds over me. I can’t be here watching her, feeling her presence in every room. I can’t see her face everywhere, hear her voice, and not be with her. It would haunt me, James. I can’t—” “That bad?”

But Rosalie Harrow was not the shore. She was the moon. There would be no escaping her pull for either of them . . . any of them. The moon is everywhere—always coaxing, always claiming. Even when she cannot be seen, she is felt. And James felt her everywhere.

“I feel . . . home.” She didn’t know who moved first, but it didn’t matter. His face lowered as she tipped up on her toes. Their lips met and she sighed into his kiss. His arms wrapped around her. It felt strange to kiss him in the rain. His lips were already wet. She relaxed into him, loving the feel of his muscled arms around her.

Tom

Burke tensed, eyes still locked on Rosalie. “Christ, Rosalie, say it.” She knew what he wanted. She wanted the same thing. She’d been aching for it since that first kiss. Could she dare say the words in front of Renley? He was standing right there, ready to step in, ready to protect her. His kiss was still fresh on her lips. Oh god, he would see . . . but some dark part of her wanted him to see, wanted them both to understand how she felt. She lifted her chin, looking into Burke’s eyes, and whispered the words that would send her straight to hell. “Burke, will you please kiss me—”

“Fuck,” she heard someone groan. It had to be Renley, for Burke’s mouth was occupied with stealing all her air.

Burke smirked. “Or come with me.” He held out his hand, an open invitation in his eyes. She swallowed her whimper, desperate to say yes. Then he slayed her when he glanced at Renley and added, “Just know he’s coming too.”

“Don’t get greedy,” Renley warned, his breath hot in her ear. “Good girls who stand still get to come more than once.” She sagged against Burke, trying to stay focused on her pleasure. Then Renley slid two fingers into her. “Oh—god—” she cried out, her core already clenching around him.

These men ruined her. The violence of their passion, their dedication to her pleasure . . . and they were holding back. What might it be like when they were fully unleashed? When they let her give them pleasure in return? The very idea made her tremble all over again.

Not for one second did I think of him for myself, because I imagined myself falling for you. But no man who calls me whore gets to call me his.”

“I . . . found her kissing Renley in the woods after the picnic. And I may have . . . joined in. I really don’t mind Renley. He’s a friend and . . . damn if it didn’t turn me on,” he added under his breath. “I mean, I could more easily share with you . . . but I draw the line at Charles fucking Bray.”

Holy hell . . . what else did Burke just say? James could hardly think straight. Burke was willing to share her with him. In what universe could James ever allow that to happen? Would he even want that? Yes, a dark voice whispered. Anything for a taste of her.

“Because, you need to know where I stand. If you seek to claim her . . . just know you’ll be claiming me too.”

she cried. “What do you want?” “I want—fuck—” His words faltered as he dropped his hand from her arm. “For the love of God, just tell me what you want—” Her words died with a gasp as he pressed her into the bookcase, his hands on her shoulders. She managed one breath before his mouth claimed hers in a bruising kiss. For the briefest of moments, she was ready to shove him off. Without realizing when or how, she pulled him closer instead.

James

“Burke, I want you,” she whined, rubbing her hand over his cock. “No more chivalry. I want to give you such pleasure. Please—”