"You are right."

Beckett's voice growled the words in her ear as he flattened Penelope to the inside of the door. She had been close to Beckett before, but it was nothing compared to now. His large, muscled chest pressed into her, and the weight was heady. It immediately sank to her core, making Penelope ache.

"I was?"

She usually would not sound so surprised about being right—it did frequently happen, after all—but she could barely think in coherent thoughts.

"Yes," Beckett groaned. Penelope's eyes were still adjusting, making it challenging to see, but she felt him brush his thumb along her jaw. "It would be a travesty for you to remain untouched."

Anticipation raced through her at his words.

Beckett pulled his head back, and she could see enough to make out his sly smirk. It broke through the shadows.

"Suddenly Lady Hutton does not have much to say?"

His touch fell to her neck, tracing a line down to her shoulders. And then her bodice, trailing a finger along the seam. It skimmed her flesh, giving her goose bumps.

"I find myself rather distracted at the moment," she gasped.

Beckett chuckled huskily. He dropped his head into the crook of her neck, and she immediately arched for him, giving him more. And to her utter surprise and delight, he took it. Beckett's lips brushed down the length of her neck, and Penelope groaned, desperate for him to never stop.

Could this be happening? Truly, were his lips on her skin?

Her mouth opened to ask if he was certain about this, to tell him that she understood his dedication to loyalty and his reasons for restraint. But the words vanished on the tip of her tongue when he reciprocated her groan.

"God, Penelope," he mumbled, his breath fanning over her skin. "I already know that you're going to be the best damn thing I've ever tasted."

"Beckett, please," she whimpered.

He smiled against her collarbone.

"Please, what?"

"Touch me."

Penelope needed more than the feather-light caresses he was giving her at the moment. She wanted to be touched the same way he had hauled her into her chambers and pressed her to the door. She wanted a touch that demanded attention.

Beckett threw his head back with another groan. A moment later, he was hiking up her skirts, bunching them around her waist. His grip slipped into the dip behind her knee, and he hoisted her leg around his waist, using the angle to ruck her skirts up.

Once he had her in a position to his liking, Beckett stepped back into his place—the one where his chest molded against hers. A hum of excitement and heat ran through Penelope, making her whimper with desire. And then she let out an unashamed moan when Beckett rocked his hips into her, and she felt how much he wanted her, too. Oh, heavens.

"Quiet, Penelope," he grunted, his head dropping back into the crook of her neck. He pressed a soft kiss there.

"Everyone is still at the ball," she breathed. "No one will hear."

"I'm not worried about that," he said, his voice husky.

"Is it just a habit, then?" She laughed lightly. "Telling me to shut my mouth?"

"No." He shook his head. "It doesn't have to do with that. I love listening to you."

She squirmed in his arms, doing what she could to feel more. "What does it have to do with?"

Beckett released a string of curse words. "You're going to make me lose all goddamn control if you continue to make such sounds."

God, she wanted that. She wanted to know what Beckett Ash was like when he lost all goddamn control. And Penelope planned to tell him that.

"Beckett—"

"I do not want to hear it, Penelope," he said, harshly cutting her off. He knew her too well. "I'm going to touch you because you damn well deserve it. But this is for you and you alone."

Without another word, Beckett put a small amount of distance between them. He slid his hands over her bodice, taking special care to cup her breasts and groan about it on his way down. Penelope sucked in when she felt him fumbling with her skirts, looking for entry. She widened her stance, giving him better access. And then—

"Oh, hell." Beckett's teeth grazed her collarbone as he dipped into her drawers. "You're a mess, darling."

His fingers had only brushed between her legs, skimming. Barely touching. But Penelope knew her arousal was likely obvious. She had never felt such an aching pulse before. And it was all because of him. No one else had ever come close.

"Please," she said, not for the first time, and she realized she would likely never live down how much she was begging.

Beckett seemed to love it, though. She felt his lips curve against her neck as he traced a finger back and forth over her slit, teasing her.

"Is this what you wanted?" he asked, even though he damn well knew the answer.

"No," she choked out.

"No?"

"It's not enough."

Penelope wrapped her arms around his neck, dove her fingers into his hair, and then tugged as hard as she could in annoyance. He drove her mad, and yet she loved it.

"Fine," Beckett said gruffly. "Let us see if this is better."

He swiped deeper before purposefully finding that one spot between her legs that made Penelope's knees buckle. Her grip tightened on him.

"That is better," she gasped.

"Just better, eh?"

Penelope could not respond; her mouth was too dry, and her body awash with pure, tingling bliss as Beckett caressed her gently. And then he thrust a finger inside her, and Penelope arched against the door in ecstasy, groaning.

Her eyes were barely open, just enough to see Beckett lean back and pin a glittering gaze on her face. Slowly, he added another finger. Penelope could feel it stretching her just slightly.

"You feel better than I ever could have imagined," he said before pulling his fingers out and shoving them back in again. Meanwhile, his thumb continued to caress that spot that made her vision go blurry.

"Beckett," she gasped, hands wringing in his hair. "Oh my—"

Her eyes finally fluttered shut, but she caught a glimpse of his cocky expression, which only urged the fire in her core.

"So beautiful when you say my name like that," he murmured. "Tell me this is what you wished for, Penelope."

"Yes." It was all she could manage. "Yes."

"Look at me, darling."

Penelope forced her eyes open to find his handsome face swimming before her. He grinned, and something collapsed in Penelope's chest from seeing that smile in the dark. Beckett dropped his head again, and she sighed when his lips brushed her neck, nibbled on her ear, and breathed across her skin. Beckett murmured tiny words of encouragement that she never would have expected from his gruff mouth, and she melted in his arms as he continued to pump his fingers inside her.

And then it became too much. The pressure, the tension...it was unbearable, but in the sweetest of ways. Penelope felt something come undone deep within her, and she allowed herself to let go.

"Fuck," Beckett moaned. And while she was still shaking in his arms, he crashed his lips to hers. He plundered and stole her breath, his tongue diving into her mouth and brushing against hers repeatedly. She cried out into him as his fingers continued to play with her. This kiss and everything that came with it was more than Penelope could bear.

But Beckett did not stop. He was tasting her, and it was so incredibly satisfying to be devoured so eagerly. He was kissing her like it was the most important thing in the world, his mouth moving over hers in such a complete way.

Eventually, her mouth did not seem enough anymore, and he dragged his lips back down her neck again. But he did not stop this time, and his lips nipped along her decolletage. He licked the seam of her bodice like he longed for it to vanish. Penelope's deep breaths made her breasts rise and fall beneath his mouth as she reveled in his ministrations.

"Take it off," she demanded. "Take the dress off."

Beckett shook his head, releasing a low, guttural noise. "Stop tempting me, Penelope."

Before she could reply, his lips covered hers again. Penelope kissed him back eagerly, hoping that she could convey her feelings through her actions. But it did not seem to be enough. Sadly, her dress remained laced, and he brushed her away when she attempted to touch him in return.

"I was hoping to avoid that," he grunted when they finally broke apart. His fingers slipped from her body, making Penelope feel empty.

"What?"

"Kissing you."

"The thought of kissing me repulses you, does it?" she teased. Her lips felt foreign to her, puffy and swollen from his aggressive kisses and caresses.

"No." Beckett suddenly became his surly self again, the walls already staking between them. "It haunts me." 

His somber words fell between them like a stark reminder. Eventually, when both of their breathing had returned to a somewhat normal pace, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

"Goodnight, Penelope."

Penelope could not find a reply before he vanished into his chambers, leaving her to fall into her bed alone.