Chapter 18

 

Well, let’s just say, Crispin Clover was not one to make idle threats. After they left the pub, there was no doubt in Gwen’s mind that his plans to seduce her were in full effect, and her wine induced fuzziness only served to accentuate the point. Before she knew it, they were crossing Tower Bridge on foot, once again, her hand safely encased within his own. Halfway across the bridge, he took her by surprise when he halted his brisk steps to tug her into his embrace. He then smothered her in a kiss so wondrous, it had her juices flowing like free running sap from a sugar maple.

“Just a taste…” he purred as he pulled away. He had barely given her a chance to catch her breath before resuming his purposeful steps, flashing her a devilish smile over his shoulder.

“Come along, young miss, our transportation awaits.” Practically running, he led the way onto the awaiting river bus. He helped her into the bench seat first so she would have a better view of the passing sights. He then followed her in and sat snug beside her. When she naturally leaned into him, he draped his arm around her and held her upright before she could slide out of the slippery bench seats.

“Oops…” She giggled, attempting to straighten up.

“Quite weak in the knees, aren’t you?”

“Well, if I am, it’s all your doing.” She gave him a lazy smile. “All that wine.”

“Just the wine?” He took hold of her chin, turned her face to him and kissed her once again, this time with full-on tongue, mingling rather forcefully with her own. When she moaned, he chuckled deep within his chest and backed away, nipping her bottom lip as he did so. “How about now?”

She couldn’t quite respond, he had once again taken her breath away. With that teasing look he gave her now, he had her body buzzing with want. She had no doubt she was way in over her head with the handsome lusty Goth, but she was damn well willing to let him do his worst.

Still smiling like a scoundrel at her, he gently spun her skull around so she faced the window. “You don’t want to miss the sights. You’ll be seeing plenty of me soon enough.”

Oh my, did he just say that? Speechless, and more than a little hot and bothered, Gwen took his advice. She watched the scenery along the Thames as they passed. It was nighttime, but the moon was full and bright. Very much aware of Crispin’s arm around her, and his other hand on her thigh, she tried to take it all in. It was quite captivating and beautiful with the modern architecture alongside the old. They passed the London Eye, the city’s giant ferris wheel and were now approaching the Houses of Parliament. As the river bus pulled in at Westminster Pier, Crispin gave her a squeeze to signal they had arrived at their stop.

Nearing eleven o’clock, it had gotten significantly cooler and the air by the river was a little damp. But that did nothing to dampen Gwen’s spirits, especially when she reached the top of the steps and was greeted by the sight of Big Ben all lit up against the night sky. Dazzled by the iconic clock tower atop the awe-inspiring Houses of Parliament, Gwen could only grasp Crispin’s hand and stare. And then if the sight weren’t gorgeous enough, it started to chime and she let out a small squeal of delight when the sound resonated throughout her body.

“Quite something, isn’t it?” Crispin said, equally impressed with the magnificent Gothic structure. “Seriously, I should have been born in this country, such a spectacular Gothic work of art!”

“If I hadn’t met you before now, I would have assumed you were born here,” Gwen said, looking from him to the jaw-dropping scenery. “Back in the day, of course. You would have fit in perfectly among all this.”

At her admission, he chuckled and started to walk, hoping to make their way back to the inn before long. They could grab a taxi but the inn wasn’t far and they were both in the mood for a stroll. Quite chuffed under the spell of it all, he tugged her into him as they walked and planted a loud smack of a kiss on her cheek. “Tell me something,” he said when she giggled. “Who exactly am I to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, which character from which of your drippy romance novels am I?”

She halted in her steps and furrowed her brow, her mind racing. “I don’t read drippy romance novels. I read classic English literature. Victorian Era books such as Wuthering Heights, and Jayne Eyre are my preference. But I suppose, I do enjoy the occasional Regency romance like Jane Austen novels,” she admitted with a fond smile.

“Oh, is that so? Well, pardon me,” he said with mock indignation. But he was determined to get an answer to his question. “So? Who am I then? Heathcliff, Rochester, Mr. Darcy or Jack the Ripper?” He laughed when she blushed and turned away, obviously embarrassed.

“Well, not Jack the Ripper,” she answered ruefully. “At least, I hope not.” They soon left the touristy area behind and then turned onto a quieter street lined with Georgian style townhouses on one side. The side on which they walked was flanked by a wrought iron fence.

“Definitely not that guy,” he said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. “But you haven’t answered my question.”

“What question?” She feigned ignorance, but he would not have it.

“Which one am I?” He stepped in front of her and walked backwards a few steps.

“Crispin! This is ridiculous.” She giggled, too self-conscious to say anything else. How did he even know she thought of him that way? She hadn’t told him.

“Come on, don’t act all innocent,” he said, getting a kick out of her bashfulness. “You know exactly what I’m referring to. Besides, I heard you in your sleep. You called me Heathcliff once. A little bit later, I was Mr. Rochester, or was it Edward?” He tapped his chin with his fingers then snapped them. “That’s it, Edward. You called me Edward. Yet again an hour or so later, I somehow travelled through time and became Mr. Darcy.” He smiled at the look of utter disbelief on her face and slowed his steps.

“What?” she gasped in disbelief. He had to be joking. “I did not! Oh, God, did I really say all that?” She tried to walk around him but he blocked her.

“And then some,” he added. “And let’s not even get into all the groping I had to endure through it all.”

“No way!” she sputtered and laughed as a rush of blood filled her cheeks.

He leaned in real close. “Oh, yes, let’s just say, I had to use every last ounce of willpower not to make your dreams come true while I fucked you in your sleep.”

At his words, she gasped. But before she could register what happened next, she found herself stuck up against the iron gate, the full force of Crispin’s body pressed against her, her hands up beside her head within the steely grips of his own. “Crispin?” With her heart now pounding in her chest, she stared questioningly into his unreadable expression for all of a second before he claimed her mouth with a relentless, punishing kiss. As if to prove how much he had meant it, he ground his undeniable erection to the apex of her thighs until she called his name again. “Oh, yes, Crispin.”

“That’s right,” he said with a smile. “The name is Crispin… Mr. Clover if you’d rather.” He followed with a softer almost protective kiss. “Call me by my name and I’ll make your dreams come true so hard, you won’t ever call for those other fuckers in your sleep again.”

In response, she couldn’t help the giggles from taking hold of her. She didn’t know why she was laughing but the intensity in his voice made her giddy beyond reason.

“You think I’m joking, do you?” To her relief, he smiled when she gazed up at him.

“Not at all.” She flexed her fingers where he held them. “I’m looking forward to it, if you must know.”

“Well then…” He leaned in and purred into her ear. “Why the fuck are we standing around out here?”