It Happened One Autumn (Wallflowers, #2)

by Lisa Kleypas

“You should tuck your elbows in.” Having expected criticism, Lillian was caught off-guard. “What?” The earl’s thick lashes lowered slightly as he glanced down at the bat that was gripped in her right hand. “Tuck your elbows in. You’ll have more control over the bat if you decrease the arc of the swing.”

YUMMMMMM

And at the moment when he had stood behind her and adjusted her swing, and felt her body press along his front, he had been keenly aware of a primal urge to drag her to some private place, flip up her skirts, and—

TEE HEE

Marcus shook his head helplessly. “I’m sorry,” he rasped, even as he knew what he was about to do. “My God. Sorry—” His mouth clamped over hers, and he began to kiss her as if his life depended on it.

PATHETIC MEN WOOOOO

“How often do you and your wife—” “The goings-on in my bedroom are not open for discussion,” Hunt said firmly. “But you lie with her more than once a week?” St. Vincent pressed. “Hell, yes,” Hunt muttered.

HELL! YES!

“I just want to make it clear that what I did was a complete aberration. You are not the kind of woman whom I would ever be attracted to.” “All right.” “In fact—” “You’ve made yourself quite clear, my lord,” Lillian interrupted with a scowl, thinking that it was undoubtedly the most annoying apology she had ever received.

WHY ARE MEN LIKE THIS LMFAO

“Damn it,” Westcliff whispered savagely. Before she quite knew what was happening, he had pushed her up against a nearby wall.

YEAHHHHHHHH

“It was that blasted perfume of yours—as soon as he caught one whiff of it, he went berserk.”

I'm SCREAMING

“Dear,” Daisy said softly, “the next time you face a room full of strangers . . . you might tell yourself that some of them are just friends waiting to be found.”

Daisy ily

White-faced with a rage that matched his, Lillian answered in a low, shaking voice. “Take your hands off me, you son of a bitch.” To her satisfaction, she saw his eyes narrow at the profanity.

GET HIS ASS LILLIAN

“You survived the encounter with my mother, I see.” Lillian smiled. “A better way to put it, my lord, is that she survived the encounter with us.”

Obsessed with her

“One waltz,” he said gently. Distrusting her own response to him, the magnitude of her desire to step into his arms, Lillian shook her head. “I think . . . I think that would be a mistake. Thank you, but—” “Coward.”

AAAAA!!! He threw it back in her face!!!!

“I was right, wasn’t I?” she asked huskily, unable to look at him. “It was a mistake for us to dance.” Westcliff waited so long to reply that she thought he might not. “Yes,” he finally said, the single syllable roughened with some unidentifiable emotion. Because he could not afford to want her. Because he knew as well as she that a pairing between them would be a disaster. Suddenly it hurt to be near him. “Then I suppose this waltz will be our first and our last,” she said lightly. “Good evening, my lord, and thank you for—” “Lillian,” she heard him whisper. Turning from him, she walked away with a brittle smile, while goose bumps rose on the exposed skin of her neck and back.

OH THE ANGST BITCH

“Lillian,” he said unsteadily, “tell me not to touch you. Tell me it’s enough now. Tell me—” She kissed him again, greedily absorbing the heat and flavor of his mouth.

HEHEHE

“I don’t want to see you hurt.” “Has it ever occurred to you, you arrogant idiot, that the person most likely to hurt me might be you?”

OOP-

Coming up behind her, Westcliff settled his hands at her waist, easily dodging her attempts to throw him off. He pulled her hips back firmly against his and spoke against her ear. “Are you angry because I started making love to you, or because I didn’t finish?” Lillian licked her dry lips. “I’m angry, you bloody big hypocrite, because you can’t make up your mind about what to do with me.” She punctuated the comment with the hard jab of one elbow back against his ribs.

KICKING MY FEET THEY'RE SO JUICY

As he caught a whiff of her breath, he shook his head and murmured, “Little one . . . what have you been drinking?”

LITTLE ONE OH IM SICKKKKKK

He could no longer deny that for the rest of his life, he would measure every other woman against her, and find them all lacking. Her smile, her sharp tongue, her temper, her infectious laugh, her body and spirit, everything about her struck a pleasurable chord in him.

LET'S GOOOOO

“I’ll leave you here to finish your, er . . . conversation.” As he withdrew from the room, however, it seemed that he couldn’t keep from ducking his head back in and asking Marcus cryptically, “Once a week, did you say?” “Close the door behind you,” Marcus said icily, and Hunt obeyed with a smothered sound that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

SIMON LMAOOOOOOOO

“The moment you enter the room, the earl becomes far more animated. It is obvious that he is fascinated by you. One can hardly have a conversation with him, as he is constantly straining to hear what you are saying, and watching your every movement.”

And that's on period!

“I wanted you today,” he said softly. Her heart escalated into a rapid thump, and she tried to hold back a smile. “You didn’t so much as glance in my direction even once during supper.” “I was afraid to.” “Why?” “Because I knew if I did, I wouldn’t be able to keep from making you into my next course.”

GOD.

“Softly, now,” he whispered. “Easy. My God, how beautiful you are. Lillian . . . I’ll do anything for you. I’ll agree to whatever you want. Anything that’s in my power to give. Just put my mind at ease, and say you’ll be my wife.”

I'M KILLING MYSELF

“Lillian,” he whispered, “my angel, my love . . . does it ache right here?” One of his fingers slid inside her. “This sweet, empty place . . . do you want me to fill it?”

MARCUS YOU SCOUNDREL

“Milord . . . the countess bade me to tell you that she is resting.” “I’ll send her to her eternal fucking rest,” Marcus roared, “if this door isn’t opened now.”

GO MARCUS

Stopping midway down the stairs, St. Vincent took in the curious tableau before him . . . the clusters of bewildered onlookers, the affronted ‌innkeeper . . . and the Earl of Westcliff, who stared at him with avid bloodlust. The entire inn fell silent during that chilling moment, so that Westcliff’s quiet snarl was clearly audible. “By God, I’m going to butcher you.”

GET HIM MARCUS

“I love you, Marcus.” Taking the napkin from him, Lillian blew her nose noisily and continued to weep as she spoke. “I love you. I don’t mind if I’m the first one to say it, nor even if I’m the only one. I just want you to know how very much—” “I love you too,” he said huskily. “I love you too. Lillian . . . Please don’t cry. It’s killing me. Don’t.”

EEEEEEE!!!