She keeps glancing back at their table.

Her face, curious and scheming.

His voice trailed off, all his attempts for a meaningful conversation, wasted.

He rolled his eyes with barely concealed irritation and… apprehensiveness.

"Siena." Anthony warned.

"What?" Her attention, on anything but him.

"I know what you're thinking. And I'm saying this now. Stay away from her."

"But where's the fun in that?" The woman cooed, arranging his neatly placed tie.

"I'm serious, Siena." He held her hands in warning, stopping her.

Siena smirked, clicking her tongue. "Oh, Anthony babe. What happened to you?"

For years, he was well-briefed that happiness was but a fleeting concept. An ephemeral emotion to the inevitable outcome of heartbreak.

Nevertheless, Anthony still believed in love and happiness. He still had faith in all the good things this wretched world has to offer. For the first 18 years of his life, he had been a willing spectator of it. From his parents' love, his siblings excelling their chosen fields, down to the prospering legacy of Edmund Brigerton— the greatest man he'd ever known. He believed in its power, its lasting influence and its ferocious attempts to make one person better, great even. Just… Not for him.

So, the only plausible grounds as to why he was this happy was if he was dreaming.

He's dreaming.

Surely, he has to be.

Anthony learned that people were never truly satisfied. Not until they've brought someone down with them. Never had he allowed himself to even think about sharing this responsibility for his family, for his father's legacy. Anthony knew of the expectations, the judgment, the disappointment. And he has never been a cruel man to let another help him from that burden.

But being here. Sitting with her. Staring at her as she scrunched her nose at what he just said, Anthony was content, enraptured and yes, happy. He had never felt this sense of weightlessness before. Had never felt the need to open himself up to anyone, not to burden, no, but share. Never had somebody understand what it was it like to be him— the head of the family and a progressive empire. The constant voices of pressure have been decimated by the sound of her heartfelt laughter. Every smile. Every crinkle of her nose. Every gleam in her big, round eyes, Anthony had forgotten all about his long-standing prejudice. The dark reminders of his past heartbreaks were inconsequential with everything about her.

Kate was iridescent. Selfishly and unknowingly setting light to the dark, lonely crevices he had gotten himself into all those years ago. She was awakening a huge part of him that, for years had been dormant futile and forgotten.

But as quick as it came, the sooner it all went to hell.

He and Siena had said their goodbyes and she promised to stay in touch. To which he replied with a hard "Hell no." The woman only chuckled before Anthony scowled at her and made his way back towards their table.

He stopped in his tracks as soon as the crowd parted before him.

And his nightmares began.

Their table was noticeably, obviously empty. The plates and glasses had been cleared out during his absence. The only proof of her presence was the lilies he gave her, laying there in solitude.

Anthony felt a foreboding sense of despair and guilt.

He snatched the attention of the passing server. "Where is she? The woman sitting with me?"

The young man glanced at their table, understanding emerging his face. "Oh, Sir. She left." He informed him, indifferent but respectful.

"Left?! Where?" Anthony sounded frantic even to his ears.

To the loo, Please say she's in the loo.

"My apologies, sir. I don't know."

"Can you ask…" he ransacked his brain for the name of the server who waited for them, snapping his fingers. "Rommel… Roniel… Ronny! Will you ask Ronny if he'd seen her?"

"I… I will." And with hurried footsteps, the server disappeared to the kitchens.

Anthony looked around the dispersed restaurant but couldn't find a single trace of her. He tried her phone, but his efforts remain kaput; she's not answering. He waited for Ronny at their table, Lilies held in hand, one leg bouncing in anxiety. He stood up when the server walked up to him, his face somber.

"Good evening, Sir. The last thing I saw, was her taking a call. But we checked the restrooms, she isn't there. Might I suggest the balcony? Or the gardens? Or have you checked your rooms? We readied it once we knew you were coming, sir."

He nodded in acknowledgement, hope blooming in his chest. He thanked the man, gave him a massive tip before setting on his way. He tried the lobby first, then the gardens. The lovely night turned moderately cold and eerily quiet, reflecting his own sentiments. Anthony's steps became more determined, but not less anxious when he remembered that she had no shawl to cover her bare arms. She must be freezing, somewhere around here. He kept trying her phone as he traipsed the landscape. His shoes scrunched on the gavel as he looked around, lamp posts and the moonlight illuminating his path. He was jogging, trying to cover more ground, the lilies becoming more and more disarranged as he held it in desperation.

They were having a great time.

He couldn't have just imagined it.

Right?

His mind was backtracking his steps on where could he had gone wrong. He recalled her easiness with him. Her cheerfulness as she narrated every tale of her childhood. Her intense stare right before…

His footsteps ceased, realization dawning on him like a freezing bucket of cold water.

Surely, Kate did not think… Siena?

No, no, no. Siena was just...

Had he ruined their night already? Anthony knew how he had the tendency for self-destruction, for ruining every little good thing in his life.

He hung his head, muttering a silent curse aimed at himself, when he heard it.

Voices.

Anthony rounded the corner and saw a large balcony protruding the back of the great building. Kate stood there, staring at the distance, like some sort of fever dream, a soft look on her striking features.

The grandiosity of the French architecture and the massive grounds were insignificant to her beauty. The moon bathed her in an ethereal glow, so morosely beautiful it was physically hurting his chest. One of her hands rested against the stone balustrade. The other was on her stomach as she reeled in a deep breath. What he would give to know what she was thinking. How he wished it was him occupying her mind, just as she undeniably and helplessly was to him.

As if in a trance, he took one unbidden step further and out of the colonnade.

But he stopped, realizing something was afoot.

And every begrudging emotion rose to the surface as Thomas Dorset came into view.

The prick was looking at her in awe and understanding. He said something that made Kate smile and it felt like a stab to the chest.

Unthinking, overwhelmed, bitter and repulsed, Anthony headed back inside. His solid destination now set. People greeted him on the way. He still minded his manners, gave them a tight smile and an acknowledging nod until he could take no more.

The countess of Deerfield and her daughter cornered him by the stairs. The young lady lowered her eyes, embarrassment staining her cheeks from her mother's antics. Her mother kept cutting her out whenever she tried to say something. Clearly, the young lady didn't want to be in this position more than he already was.

"Mrs. Evans." He interrupted, not bothering in hiding his irritability. "From, what I've gathered, she's a fine young lady…" Malicious hope boomed her wrinkly features. "— But your daughter is not some farm animal trussed up for action. She's a young woman with thoughts of her own. This isn't the 19th century where society and mamas can still manipulate their daughters into marrying. I suggest letting her speak for herself and asking her what she would want is the wisest decision. Have a good night."

Mrs. Evans looked aghast while her daughter looked triumphant and gave him a thankful grin.

He gave a quick bow before walking away.

Anthony felt the lily stems in his hands sag from clutching it too much. He marched towards the doorway where he knew they would be. And for the umpteenth time that night, he felt his heart drop all the way to his feet.

Kate had her eyes closed as the foul git kissed her cheek. She smiled, that gentle smile he'd like to ridiculously think was only his. Anthony reigned the monster in as Dorset acknowledged him in the most casual of ways as if he just didn't annihilate Anthony's world.

Dorset turned to leave, but not before parting another glance at Kate.

Not trusting his balled fists around Dorset, Anthony kept them behind his back.

And his unwavering eyes on Kate's.

Dorset passed him with a short nod. "Bridgerton."

The footsteps and voices ceased around him.

Then there were two.

The world went into a standstill.

She stood erect, holding her wrists in front of her. Kate returned his gander with such consuming intensity. The breeze played with her hair, wisps of curls framed her face, making his breath catch in his throat.

And yet, despite his ridiculous attraction, her merciless pull on him, Anthony found his voice. "Would it kill you to answer your phone, once in a while?" His pitch, annoyed and accusing. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

The first sign of reaction dawned on her. Kate pursed her lips. "Thank you. But I'm safe and unharmed as you could now see, my lord." She opened her palms in a 'look at me" gesture.

He scowled at the heavy sarcasm dripping in her voice. "Why are you so upset?"

"Upset?" She repeated, incredulous and hostile. "I am not upset."

"Bullshit." Anthony felt his temper boiling up, rising to the surface, destructive and harrowing. "I came back to the table and you were gone, Kate. What do you expect me to think?" His nostrils flared as he tried to steady his breathing.

Kate retaliated with unforgiving and yet truthful conviction that made him hate himself more. She took a step towards him, and hollered. "You left me!"

He wished she didn't take that further step, because now, Anthony could see the unshed tears in her eyes. Embarrassment, and hate residing in them. Kate's chest heaved, her fists clenched at her sides. Anthony could see it now. What it must've looked like:

Him churlishly abandoning the woman he's with, Kate, to talk to another, Siena.

The guilt was paralyzing.

"Forget it, Bridgerton." Kate scoffed, shaking her head. Her voice, steady but indifferent. "I was just leaving. I booked my cab already since I wasn't sure you were gonna come back."

Despite the blood burning in his veins, Anthony felt the coldness of despair envelop him.

Her statement wasn't of self-pity, but an outright truth of how disappointed she was of him. And for someone used to such emotion, Anthony learned that he couldn't stand it now, not from Kate.

"Really, You think that lowly of me? You hate me that much?"

"Was I wrong?"

"Yes!" He shouted, as if his heightened voice would make her believe him. "Of course I was gonna come back! I came here with you!" And then added for good measure. "Siena's just an old friend."

But something about his last statement, instigated her— even more than she already was. Kate narrowed her eyes and gnashed her teeth.

She sent him a harsh glare that could have frozen the Thames. "Well, don't let me keep you any longer."

Anthony would've gone as far as saying that she was jealous. But he was being an ass, and wasn't making any sense. But the irritating presence of Dorset still lingered in his periphery, so…

"Then what's Dorset doing here?"

She scoffed. "Is Tom not allowed to be? The Queen's Palace too grand for a humble man like him? "

"I meant, here. With you." He accused, barely breathing at the flowering words for Dorset.

Kate looked like she was gonna cut off his head. "He's my friend. And yours too. What's wrong with you?"

"He's not my friend." He countered, adamant.

"Well, he's mine." She said in a measured but resolute tone.

His breath stuttered. He knew Kate meant it platonically but hearing her claim something that had nothing to do with Anthony was discombobulating. It didn't help that the topic of their hateful conversation was Dorset.

A dark sense of despair overcame Anthony. Deep inside him, he knew Dorset was a good man, too good and perfect for Kate. Besides, what's Anthony got to offer her other than heartbreak and desolation? Kate deserved the best. Someone who will make her laugh every day, make her blush, admire her wit and sharp tongue. In truth was, during the length of their acquaintance, Anthony wondered, daydreamed that it could be him. And up until this moment, he had never been engulfed with the paramount need to be everything someone Kate would want, would need. He had to be.

But as Kate strode to where he stood, proud and arrogant and he couldn't find it in himself to move.

"Good night, Anthony. I'm supposed to say 'see you around', but I don't think either of us wanted that."

It took a few more seconds before he finally turned on his heel and followed her inside.

It was then, given their current situation, he decided, to be honest with what's been bothering him ever since that fateful night at Colin's birthday party. For once.

"What is the matter with you?" He appealed, his tone in the borderline of breaking. "You have been like this since the moment we met. "

"Like what?" Kate stopped and whipped her head towards him, scowling at him. "Someone who won't take any of your rubbish?"

Anthony clenched his jaw as she turned around, fully facing him again.

"Hate to break it to you, my lord, but not everyone would bow to your orders—"

"I do not give anyone orders."

He certainly does and if he wasn't tipping over the edge, Anthony would've commended her again for seeing right through him.

"You give orders and you expect me and everyone else to listen! I do not listen—"

"Well, perhaps you should!"

"I will never listen to you or to anyone I wholeheartedly disagree with!" She yelled just as loud, their voices echoing in the emptiness of the hallway. Anthony was shaking with a myriad of emotions. The sap from the lily stems in his palms was trickling down his fingers.

Kate was livid. Her face flushed, her mouth pursed, her eyes like daggers sent in this direction. And Anthony must be going mad because he could still abide by the fact that she's the most beautiful, most vexing, the most enchanting person in existence.

"I am not surprised that you've taken this long to come to terms with that. To accept that simple fact—"

"Oh, you wish to know why?"

"Are you certain you even know why?" She mocked, eyes squinting at him.

He took a breath, hissing. "I know why."

"Oh, here we go!" She derided with a patronizing look. "Enthrall me with the fascinating tale, Bridgerton! I'm dying to know!"

"It is because you are you! You are not Kate Sharma if you're not driving me mad!"

"Well, you—"

"Stop talking." He gritted his teeth and there must be something in his look because she acquiesced but only barely.

"You are obstinate, inflexible, unyielding to good, plain, common sense. And I shouldn't find that as riveting as it supposed to be, but it is! You are! And it's maddening!" His chest heaved, his voice growing desperate.

She grew quiet.

He prodded, finally allowing the veracity of his feelings to make itself known.

"From the moment we met…" Anthony shook his head, and absent-mindedly walked up to her. His eyes never strayed from hers. " Nothing makes sense when I don't see you. Or when you don't argue with me at every point. Or when I don't see those big, brown eyes of yours that always render me speechless."

Her pupils dilated, mouth agape, emboldening him even further.

He took another step and was met by her scent. More hedonistic and stronger than the actual flowers in his hand.

She was standing so close.

His head was spinning. His heart was trying to run out of his chest. His nose brushed against hers.

"You bring out both the worst and best sides of me. You are my nightmare and my dream all rolled into one, Kathani. Have you any idea how much you consume everything in me? Of what you do to me?" He whispered.

She took a breath, and for a moment Anthony thought she'd push him away. But,

"What?" She goaded, as if Anthony wasn't already losing his mind. Her eyes fluttered to his lips and back to his eyes again. "What do I do to you?"

Growling, Anthony dug his fingers on her hips and gently pulled her in. Until she's pressed against the length of his body. Kate's mouth dropped and Anthony fought the urge to bite the divot in her lips.

He sucked an anguish breath.

"This. Always like this, Kate. Always. It's a bloody inconvenience." He traced his nose against her jaw, the tip of his tongue tasting the skin. "Do you know, now?"

She moaned, and it made him pull her tighter to him with both hands on her hips. Lily bouquet be damned and Anthony finally let it fell. The personification much more intoxicating and addictive.

Kate drew another deep inhale. "I did not ask for this. To be plagued by thoughts of you. By these feelings." Her fingers started clutching the lapels of his suit. Her eyes half closed, her breath fanning his face.

He smiled between small kisses on her neck, feeling his heart ready to burst out its cavity to chase her seductive words.

"Do you desire me, Kate? Do you desire me, as much as I desire you?" He mumbled, slightly pulling away to see her face, to see if the same ardent emotions he was feeling was reflected in hers.

Anthony held his breath as he waited with dying hope and anticipation.

But she replied, just as breathless, just as equally arousing.

"Yes."

And at the end of the day, Anthony was just a man.

A starving man at that.

They met halfway.

And then he pounced.

Or was it her?

Either way, it didn't matter though— nothing did— because finally, finally, he was kissing Kate.

And it was a kiss worth waiting for.

He's filled with a great and overwhelming relief that he'd never have to wonder ever again. He would never lose sleep again thinking about how she would feel in his arms, how her lips would mold with his. How her artistic hands would feel, clutching him as if her life depended on it. She's here, right now. Pliant, desperate as him.

Kate tasted like the wine he had picked and argued with him about. And cake. And her.

Anthony led her, pressing her against a hidden recess in the wall. His hand behind her head so she wouldn't knock it with his force. Her hands were everywhere all at once, cinching desperately. His hair, his face, his shoulders, his clothes. He attached her hips to his as he ran his nose beginning at the cleavage in her dress up her jawline.

That scent.

That bloody, fucking scent.

"Lilies." He murmured, flickering his tongue, brazenly licking down her strong jaw to her collarbones. "You always smell of lilies."

She hummed, a desperate plea of his name. Anthony grumbled and kissed her again, swallowing every whimper vibrating through her body. Kate wrapped her arms around him, a desperate hold, as if she has been waiting for this moment like he was.

He gathered her skirt with one hand, pulling it up, higher, until he could slip his free hand between her thighs. Kate's body arched as he cupped her mound. She moaned, loud enough for the whole building to hear.

He fell back with a grunt, overwhelmed by the effect he had on her.

"Do not stop." She admonished, desire heavy in her eyes. And Anthony almost keeled over. She was reaching for him, her lips landed on his ear, sucking at his earlobe. "Do not stop."

Kate kissed him this time. Her tongue as skilled and unforgiving as her arguments that he couldn't help but growl in lewd appreciation. Her fingers were in his hair, gripping as though she was making sure he was real, that this was real. Anthony's hand wandered over her inner thighs again. His knuckles brushing feather-lighted touches over her underwear. Kate gasped over his mouth. Both her hands clasped his nape as his fingers swept her underwear aside and plunged. Anthony couldn't help the guttural growl from his chest. She was so blissfully wet. Kate's neck stretched as she threw her head back.

"Come home with me." He whispered against her clavicle, keeping incremental but soft thrusts with his fingers.

"No, no." Kate shook her head violently. For a second, despite his lustful haze, Anthony stopped moving, ready to back away. Because he knew for certain, that he wouldn't do anything to make her uncomfortable. If there's a modicum of reluctance on her part, he'd give her space and respect it.

But she draped her arms on his shoulders, her nails scratching the fabric on his back. "No. Don't make me wait anymore… Please. I don't want to wait anymore."

And that's when Anthony's last thread of honor infallibly, dutifully snapped.

He crushed her lips with his again. Hearing her insinuating that she had been waiting for this moment just as long as he, was his undoing. Anthony held her to him, Kate ground her hips against his hand so boldly it was making him want to act reckless.

But the remaining, functional cell in his brain told him that even though he's not against taking her pleasure in public, he wanted, just this once, to be selfish. Keep her all to himself, be the only spectator of her pleasure. She deserved to be worshipped. To scream as loud as she can without prohibition and to take him whatever, whichever way she pleases. He's willingly and irrevocably hers for the taking.

With the last strand of sanity he has left, he used the decorated panel to physically remove himself from her. He pulled away, "Follow me."

"What did I tell you about you and your orders?" She said, but it lacked heat. Her simpering lips were puffy, her eyes blown and playful.

He smiled then, and gave her another quick but bruising kiss. He shook his head in fond admiration. "Can't fucking believe… You're still arguing with me."

She huffed a laugh as her steps fell behind him. Before they could get far, however, she tugged his hand back with a dire sense of urgency. "Wait! Wait! My lilies."

"Leave it." Anthony pressed on but Kate dragged him, propelling him to their previous spot.

"No. I want them!" She announced with finality.

He couldn't help but feel smug and elated at how open and sentimental she was being, for something he gave her.

They marched towards the alcove again. And there, lying on the carpet was the disastrous state of the flora. He must've stomped on it during their moment of mindless passion.

"Aha!" Exclaimed Kate as if she had found a treasure.

Anthony grimaced. "I'll buy you a new one."

"No, it's fine. No one ever gave me flowers before." She informed him artlessly, bending her knees to pick up an intact single stem.

He gaped at her. Surely, he must've misheard her. But seeing the almost timid upturn of her lips, and lowered gaze clarified her confession. Anthony was suddenly filled with strange emotions— a triad of awe, resentment, and satisfaction. Awe at her honesty and her otherworldly goodness. Resentment towards the world because nobody had ever gone out of their way to make her feel appreciated. But then, grim, primitive satisfaction that he may be very well the first to do so. It made her seem more… his.

Anthony grasped her jaw with one hand and gave her the softest, lingering, sweetest kiss he had ever given. His tongue traced the lines in her lips before sucking on it. His thumbs rubbed circles on her jaw, down her neck, willing her to feel the possessiveness and reverence he had for her.

"Let's go." She murmured, smirking.

Anthony grasped her hand in his and strode purposefully towards the direction of the Bridgerton suite. They made their way up towards the grand turret, giggling as he almost tripped in their haste. They passed through a hall of marble sculptures and an even more private hallway before Anthony saw the oaken double doors. He entered the passkey on the keypad, then the doors gave a resounding click. He allowed her to go in first, smiling if a little shy.

He was gazing at the candelabra hanging over the ante room, clearly avoiding her eyes as she entered the threshold. The bulbs from the candelabra and table lamps cast a lickerish glow about the room. A large mirror hung above the fireplace, painted portraits of his lineage lined up the red walls. Kate kept on walking, a smile plastered on her face. The wall sconces reflected a glimmering shine in her eyes. She was breathtaking. And Anthony could only follow her, voracious in his scrutiny, on every single detail of her.

A massive vase of flowers was set upon the table at the end of the room. Kate traced the petals, leaning over to smell them. Her lily stem still on hand. Anthony didn't want her to presume that he had planned this so he explained, foolishly. "They just told me they readied the room once they knew I was coming. I wasn't… I didn't—"

Kate pivoted on her heels, her arms around his shoulders in an instant. A crude sense of reassurance that calmed the panic in his chest in an instant. He wrapped his around her waist, spellbound by the expression on her face as she angled her head towards the accoutrements on the ceiling. "Those are painted by Florentine painter and engraver Giovanni Battista Cipriani."

"I didn't know that." He raved softly, his gaze never straying from her face.

"239 roundels. Painted by hand. How brilliant is he?" She marveled, her fingers clasping her opposite elbows, hugging her even closer to him. Anthony gave a silent thanks to his great, great, great grandmother for being meticulous about her interior design choices.

Kate watched his face with such an awe-stricken openness and Anthony felt his own heart smote before him. And if the night didn't progress to his primitive urges, Anthony would've been content, if only she stayed in his arms like this.

"It's beautiful." She sighed, still looking up.

"You're beautiful." He murmured automatically, but truthfully eyeing the wisp of wavy hair that fell on the side of her face.

And for the first time in a long while, Anthony felt that natural and clear calmness. Something finally… clicked and made gratifying sense.

He inched his face closer, couldn't help but be drawn towards this inevitable pull. But Kate held his chin, stalling him. Her thumb tracing the outline of his lips. His eyes returning her intensive gander. She slanted her face, opened her mouth and stole the very breath out of his lungs. He surged.

Their following movements were reckless, feral and unhinged. He pressed her against the foyer table, her back against his front. Anthony clambered for the zipper on her dress and he would've been successful in pulling it down if Kate wasn't pressing her bum on his tightening groin. He sucked a bruise on her shoulder as the dress finally fell off, inhaling her scent with wild abandon. He turned her in his arms again and growled at her half naked-ness. He grabbed her lithe thighs and hoisted her on his hips, tongue licking the light sweat between her cleavage. Kate was panting above him when he reached his bedroom. He dropped her feet, wrenching her bra down and off. Anthony greedily closed his mouth on her breast, as her hand buried itself in his hair. His kisses descended until he was kneeling in front of her, floored at how right she felt, how natural to be on his knees for her, worshipping her.

Kate leaned down, palms cradling his face up to kiss him. His fingers slid her underwear and she was bare before him. The scent of lilies, soap and her arousal everywhere and Anthony had to remind himself on how to breathe.

"Anything, anything you want, Kate." He implored pressing kisses on her hips and belly button. She sighed above him. His mouth, teeth and tongue covered the newly exposed skin. Nibbling, licking until she sat down on the bed and directed him to the apex between her thighs.

Anthony closed his eyes in ecstasy as Kate moaned. He wanted to tease her, make her writhe, but her scent was too much, he had to delve right in. He held her behind the knee, draping her other thigh on his shoulder as his tongue dove in. Kate gripped the duvet while the other hand still in his hair. Anthony suckled on her bundle of nerves, more turned on than he had ever been in his life. She started bucking her hips, palming her breast, and looking down at him, mouth agape.

She was so responsive, so good, so perfect. He could feel her getting close; her whines louder and bolder.

She showered him with praises and Anthony reeled on it. His hands caressing her thighs, his attention solely focused on her pleasure.

Mine.

He couldn't help but thought possessively, drawing his name inside her folds. She seemed to pick it up biting her lip, a hand massing her breast. He curled his tongue, sucked on her core before she came with a shuddering cry.

He was in heaven as he lapped every single drop.

Anthony was on the verge himself, but fought against it. He draped his body over his. The bed dipped from their combined weight. His fingers immediately replaced his tongue, playing with her slit, sliding a finger in and out. Kate held his wrist, her body stretched, highly sensitive.

He caught Kate's moan by capturing her mouth in an open-mouthed, lewd kiss. Her body was still shaking when he added another finger and another. Kate was panting under him, her walls clenching around his digits once more.

"One more, Kate. One more." He pleaded against her nipple, his fingers slick with her juices. Anthony bit down the right amount of pain and gentleness. Her body arched off the bed and she climaxed again.

She's magnificent. The greatest, most brilliant, most desirable woman on earth.

He gave her respite, littering love bites all over her neck and breasts. The necklace, his necklace, glinting with a light sheen of sweat on her throat. Turning him into a rock even more that he thought was possible.

When Anthony pried his lips away from her tempting skin to look into her eyes, she was already looking at him. He felt her hand creeping lower and lower. Anthony stopped breathing and held her wandering hands.

"We don't have to." He said, shaking his head at her, smiling. "That was for you. You're the only thing that matters."

"I know." She smirked. "But this…" her fingers skimmed under his pants and grip him tight. He choked on his drool. "This is for me."

Sidetracked by the movement of her hand and mesmerizing luster in her eyes, Anthony didn't notice her tangling her legs with his. Kate pulled herself on top of him, her wetness spreading against his stomach. Anthony could only close his eyes as she dragged his pants down his knees until he lay naked before her.

"Kate."

"Yes, Anthony?" Both her hands rested on his stomach, the ends of her luscious waves dangled all over his torso. Her arms squeezing her puckered breasts together. She undulated her pelvis against his, a maddening dance.

"Ah. Fucking… fuck. If you do that again, I might not be able to stop. " He panted cinching her waist as she started gyrating her hips with much more enthusiasm. The tip of member almost got in at the pace she was setting.

"I don't want you to stop." She declared, biting her lip and doing it again, shallowly thrusting until Anthony felt the very tip of him enter her.

Their eyes snapped together and Anthony took her surprise to flip them over. He smashed their lips together as he grappled for his trousers at the foot of the bed. In record time, he managed to slip on the rubber. All the while, Kate was looking at him, her hands cradling his face. She gave a subtle nod before Anthony charged forward.

Their mouths gasped against each other at the heavenly intrusion.

He knew it.

He fucking knew it.

"Anthony." Her hands grabbed his arms, shoulders. Her thighs spread even further to accommodate him. "Come on."

He grunted before pulling all the way out and thrusting back in. Kate's body curved in carnal satisfaction. She threw her head back against the pillows. The sight of his jewelry donning her neck turning him even more lecherous.

"Again."

He was happy to oblige.

Kate gasped, pulling him in for another mind-numbing kiss. "Again."

Anthony gave another deep thrust that had her reaching for the headboard.

"Again, Anthony, again." Kate moaned, deliciously bending her knees on either side of his waist.

He started the slow, hard rock, committing her flushed, heated body to his memory. He suckled at her breasts, painting a series of hickeys on the unmarked areas of her chest. With the occasional nibbles, Kate also kept murmuring in his ear. How it has been so long for her and how good and perfect he felt. Anthony watched her face contort with scandalous pleasure. Her blunt nails raking his arms, his shoulders and his back as he nearly brought her to the edge again. Kate raised her hips, ordering him to go faster, to which he shook his head no.

"Bastard."

Anthony chuckled, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek before hovering above her. Their pelvis still kept grinding a deliberate, teasing slow dance. He figured, that if someone stuck him down right this moment, he would've died a happy man.

He stared into her eyes, blown wide and glinting like obsidian rocks. A thousand words seamlessly passing between them.

Kate snaked a hand from between his shoulder blades to his throat. The pads of her pointer trailed the sides of his face, the outline of his lips and nose, the crease between his forehead. Her slender fingers dashed towards his locks, towards the strand of chestnut hair on his brow. Her face softened as she murmured,

"You look like a painting…. Beautiful. Just beautiful."

She craned her neck and gave him the gentlest, sweetest kiss that undoubtedly was the best of his entire life.

He was struck with a sudden feeling of ease and vulnerability. And it's supposed to alarm him, how exposed he felt with her. But it didn't. Rather, filling that space was that eerie sense of welcoming calmness and that damnable spark between them.

Anthony deepened their kiss, his tongue dancing with hers as he picked up his hips and rammed into her. Kate was throwing head side to side; her voice breaking into a litany of curses and his name. She was radiant in her rapture, it was getting harder and harder to breathe. She broke apart, whining a chorus of erotic affirmations and his name. Over and over again.

He was losing his mind as he drove them towards another release. He snuck a hand between them, Kate bit his lower lip in retaliation.

"Kate… Kate… Kathani."

"I… I like it… When you say… Say my name." She confessed between mouthfuls of gasps.

He let out another guttural cry before swooping in, kissing her like his life depended on it. He held her hips in a deathly grip, mindful of the bruises that would color it the next day. He eased up only for Kate to hold them down, digging his fingers further on her body. Anthony was on the verge, the only thought in his mind was her and this, and them.

He could her walls closing on him, choking the remaining oxygen in his lungs. It was too much, superior, too fucking good.

Kate's body bowed off the bed as she clutched his face, her mouth opened against his. White heat dripping down the sheet and their inner thighs. His arms gave out, drained out of energy, his body landed on her shaking ones. Anthony peppered kisses on the expanse of glowing skin he could reach. When he gathered enough strength he pulled away only to remove the rubber and deposit it in the bin beside the bed. He strained his neck to look at her; she still had her eyes closed, her cheeks blushing furiously. Strands of glorious locks stuck to her forehead. Anthony tucked them behind her ear, earning a sated smile from her.

She opened her eyes, "Hi."

Anthony shifted, so he wasn't crushing her, his fingers twirling a stray curl. "Hi." He said pecking another kiss, his palm, then laying on her hip, drawing circles.

Her thumb traced his throat. Her eyes, following the movement.

"Kate—" he started, but she placed a finger on his lips, shushing him.

"We'll talk tomorrow."

His lips quirked upwards, giving her another swift kiss. "Okay."

Kate turned, pressing her back to his chest, Anthony wounding his arm around her stomach.

"Who knew that tongue of yours had other uses besides making an argument?"

Anthony laughed, unable to resist in pressing another kiss on her temple which surprisingly still smelt of lilies.

It was the best sleep he ever had in his life.

Despite the strenuous activities, Kate still found herself waking up at dawn.

She blinked her eyes open and instantly say the elaborate French room divider at the corner of the room. From the flitting glimpses she managed last night, the architecture and interior were impressive, so much better than the pictures she'd studied and admired. The suite was art in of itself. Genre paintings and broody portraitures tacked on the walls. Intricate from every generation decorated the space. From the furniture, to the tapestry, the curtains, the vases and vignettes. The structure was opulent and regal, so very-well thought out she almost wanted to cry. Kate would've registered everything in its splendor and actuality, if she wasn't too preoccupied with a pair of warm lips and craving hands.

She looked over her shoulder and felt the warm breath blowing her face. Kate clutched the large hand tighter as she turned around to face him.

Kate had no idea how long she was studying his face, but felt no pretense or be shy about it. She caressed the overnight stubble with feather-lighted touches. Struck, not for the first time, how he looked like a Renaissance masterpiece. She meant it, when she told him that he looked like a painting. She might even go as far as say that he's ranking higher and higher on her list of favorite things to gaze upon. And one could bet that of she had a paper and pen at this moment, she would've drawn him right there. He looked innocent, so calm, so handsome in the minuscule morning light. A small gap between his sinful lips as his breath wash over her. His brows weren't drawn together, the endearing line between them inexistent. Her eyes fell on the wiry hair on his chest leading to his toned stomach down further south to the more exciting parts hidden beneath the blanket he draped over them. She felt her face heat up, the memories of last night played in her mind, unbidden and equally lascivious. There was a small but manageable throb between her thighs. Kate pressed them together, not trusting her body to not act on it.

She allowed herself a few more moments of ogling before she stood up from the bed. Anthony murmured something behind her before turning on his stomach. Kate ruffled the hair that befell on his brow and gave it a light kiss, smiling.

She picked up the clothes strewn about the room, donning Anthony's dress shirt from last night, too painfully aware of the jittery feeling in her gut. She thought about what she would do when he wakes up, what she would say.

Hey, yeah, I hate you with every fiber in my being but you understand me, see right through me. And I find you and your devotion to your family so very attractive, it's making me wanna do explicit and nasty things to you while on my knees. And oh, you are the best sex I've ever had.

Kate had always prided herself on being proactive. On mastering her emotions, on having innate control. It served her well, more than she could've ever predicted when she took on the mantle her father unintentionally left. But it all took was one night for it to plummet down, to spin her world dangerously off its axis. With every sigh of her name, every kiss, every touch seemed to disintegrate everything she had ever convinced herself, baring her to her deepest core- vulnerable, open and honest. And Kate, who had lived most of her life bound to constrictions to her duty found it more than liberating.

But at what cost?

From a young age, Kate knew that she was someone who's undeserving of such tender proclivities.

She was not used to feeling this coziness and sense of wonderment, actually be taken care of. Not that Edwina and Mary didn't try and look after her, Kate simply just didn't let them. She's used to giving and being the someone who had readily provided. And the idea of someone encroaching her ingrained ideals was not only preposterous but downright terrifying. Kate knew, deep in her bones that it doesn't last forever. It couldn't.

Standing in the middle of the room, she froze upon that realization.

The universe had also taken that moment to fortify her resolve, remind her again that nothing indeed lasts forever through a gentle knock on the door and a note written behind a calling card.

Kate fought the tears as she quietly and hastily gathered her things and left.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

OHHHHH! The dangers of overthinking. Kate, honey, you're a clown, but we love you. Anthony, you were an idiot but glad you came around.

If anyone's curious, the ante room in the Bridgerton Suite looks like the Red Room of Syon House. Sorry for the delay. But I hope this was satisfactory. I almost cut the smut because I was having a hard time writing it. Tell me what you think. I hope to finish the final chapter next week. Thank you for reading! And please do correct me for any grammatical errors!