“Should be quick.”
He scoffed. “You don’t even know. And then how are you going to explain why you need chloroform?”
“What else do you propose?” she demanded.
She felt like screaming at him, but she couldn’t, so she dug her nails into his arm.
“You have the claws of a tiger.”
Ulises tried to brush her hand away, but she dug her nails in deeper, and there was a tussle as he shifted and shoved her and in a few seconds he had her pinned against the wall, like in the alley. He kissed her with the quickness of a magician applying fire to flash paper, and she burned so completely and so brightly that she didn’t even consider turning away from him even though she was vexed, even though she’d promised herself she’d refuse him if he pursued her again.
She felt him against her, hot and ready, but instead of lifting her skirtshe buried his face against her neck. The sitting room smelled of damp and a thousand rains that had sluiced down the walls of the house, but as he held her close, she inhaled the aroma of his cologne and, beneath that, stifled, the notes of his sweat.
“It’s a silly idea. You should hit him in the back of the head, like you once proposed. With what was it…ball bearings? A rock?”
“I’m telling you, I can brew something that’ll put him to sleep in the snap of one’s fingers.”
“All right,” he said. “All right, we’ll give your plan a try.”
“You don’t have to say yes because you’re aroused.”
“Now you want me to say no?”
“Don’t be silly. I don’t want you to say I forced you into anything, that’s all. I want to know you’re doing it of your own free will. We’re partners in this matter, entering a contract with our eyes wide open.”
“You’re a strange woman,” he said. His voice was lush and low and soft, like a caress of smoke. It made her shiver.
“Let go of me before you come in your pants.”
“Look who’s talking. Your heart’s thumping fast.”
It was indeed thumping fast; her blood seemed to rush headily in her veins and her body was ready for him. The intensity of this desire bewildered her and yet she shook her head stubbornly, unwilling to admit it.
“Because I’m afraid someone will find us talking here in the dark. Let go of me.”
“As if you’d be afraid of anything. You have a spine of steel. You want me to fuck you against the wall or on the floor?”
“Randy pig,” she whispered.
But she took him in hand. Three strokes and he gasped against her throat. “Stop teasing,” he said, then crushed his lips against hers.
He pulled her toward the sturdy settee that had once belonged to that distant relative, Monsignor Luis Manuel, and she settled upon his lap. He fiddled with her skirt and began to touch her.
“You’re going to say you want me?” he asked.
“Shut up.”
“Say it.”
She ran her fingers across the foliate carvings of the sofa’s back, not intending to touch him at first. She thought that would be capitulating, admitting defeat. Finally, she raked his hair with her hands, seized his head, and planted a kiss on his hungry mouth.
Only after she deigned to kiss him did he ease into her with an assured thrust. Despite the precarious spot in which they were and the danger of discovery, he was slow and steady, as if to make it clear that he could have her quickly and efficiently, as had been the case during their previous coupling, or he might take his time.
The fog had stirred closer to the house, dulling the light of the moon and making the entire room even dimmer and quieter. He was no prince, just a thieving liar, but he was awfully sleek, his mouth firm upon hers; it felt half like a dream even in its sordidness.
“But I do want you,” she whispered.
She didn’t know what the hell to say when her release came upon her. She didn’t think Ulises was his real name, and she didn’t want to blurt out any endearments. It would be plain silly. So she bit her tongue and let him be the one who muttered anything, speaking her name as he stilled and stared into her eyes.