His conscience mocked the weak justification even as he stepped forward, wrapped his arm around her, and pulled her flush against him. Her nearly naked body molded itself against him like molten metal.
She trailed her hands up his arms to loop around his neck and tipped her head back, her request as clear as an engraved invitation. The moment he’d dreamed about was upon him, but his imagination hadn’t done it justice.
He cupped her cheek with one hand, his thumb glancing over her cheekbone, and lowered his mouth to hers, the touch gentle yet packing a punch that stole his breath. Her lips were soft and parted on a sigh.
Time wrinkled, and they were back in her father’s study, picking up where they’d left off two years earlier. Except with fewer clothes and complete privacy and one bed beckoning from the corner.
The kiss metamorphized from gentle to wild like the progression of a storm. She grabbed his lapels and shoved his jacket off his shoulders without breaking their connection. He clawed at his sleeves until he was free and tossed his jacket to the floor.
Their tongues danced. The give and take was painfully erotic and evocative in ways that made his cock throb. He firmed his hold around her waist, picked her up, and reversed their positions, setting her on the table.
She let out a breathy exclamation, her nails gripping his shoulders. He worked his hips between her knees and maneuvered her to the edge of the table. She bit her lip and worked her body even closer, until her legs were wrapped around his hips and the thick length of his cock was pressed against the juncture of her thighs.
“So you do want me. Your cock is hard,” she said in a husky, playful voice that made him even harder.
A slight laugh huffed out of him. “Where did you hear such language?”
“I’ve read things. And heard things.” Her lashes swept down before she once again boldly met his eyes. “But I’ve never actually experienced such things, and I want to. With you.”
“You should only be experiencing such things with your husband.” Even as he said the words, he rocked his cock against her, cursing the fabric between them. He wanted her naked and laid out on the table for him to devour and fuck.
“Do husbands not experience such things before marriage?”
“That’s different.”
“Because I’m a woman and you’re a man?”
“Because you are a lady, and I am not a gentleman. Society might look askance at a lord’s bad behavior, but you would be ruined, Victoria. You would be ostracized and hurt. I couldn’t bear that.”
“I’m already ruined in the eyes of society by being alone with you all night. You can’t say you don’t want me. Your gaze on me this morning at the modiste said differently, as does your body right now.”
Even as his body clamored for satisfaction, he leaned closer and placed his forehead against hers. “You know I want you, Victoria. I have always wanted you.”
He more than wanted her. He loved her and had loved her since the day Sir Hawkins had brought him home and she’d greeted him like she’d been waiting for him all her life.
A half sob escaped her throat. She grabbed his nape and kissed him. A kiss of fire and pent-up need. His reaction equaled her intensity but was tempered by the knowledge there was a world outside the cottage that would judge her harshly for giving in to her passions. But could he give her a taste? He could satisfy her even if he was left bereft.
“Love, would you let me…?” He kissed her and ran his hand from her knee up her thigh, tugging the hem of her chemise higher.
Her skin was soft and supple under his callused palm. When his fingertips grazed the soft hair of her mons, she tensed, and he stilled his advance. He broke their kiss and skimmed his lips over her jaw to tug her earlobe between his teeth. She moaned and let her legs relax, welcoming him.
“I can satisfy you without taking your maidenhead.” He ran a finger over the silk of her folds. She was wet. So wet, the temptation to unbutton his breeches and release his cock nearly ground his best intentions to dust. She was ready and willing to be filled by him.
She propped her hands behind her and leaned on them. Her chemise rode high on her thighs, giving him a tantalizing glimpse between them. Her chemise drooped under a breast, framing the perfection. Her nipple was dark pink, delicate, and ruched, and it begged for his mouth. She was a picture of wanton desire.
“Thomas.” Her husky whisper brought his gaze to hers. “Please.”
Chapter 6
Victoria wasn’t quite sure what she was begging for. Yes, she had read a multitude of inappropriate texts on the subject of male-female relations. Even the anonymous diary of a courtesan that had scandalized society when it was printed in the midst of the season. She didn’t consider herself a complete innocent. Yet the need coursing through her made her feel callow and overwhelmed and desperate.
She couldn’t even blame the buzzing warmth of the brandy. The food and conversation had blunted any mind muddling it had incited earlier. She was in full control of her faculties. His gaze on her body was heated and intense, his expression taut, emphasizing the harsh planes of his face. What did he see?
She glanced down. Her breath caught, hardly recognizing herself. Her legs were spread, and his hand was between them, his fingers stroking her to the edge of insanity. Her breast was uncovered, her nipple pebbled. She had never been so exposed to another, physically or emotionally.
She drew her hands into fists on the table, fighting the urge to cover herself. Thomas would take care of her. He had always taken care of her. His fingers were thick and agile, his confident touch different from her own shy explorations.
“How will you satisfy me?” The question came from a place of uncertainty on her part, but a sly smile tipped his lips as if he thought her teasing him.
“How would you like me to satisfy you? With my fingers or my mouth?”
She gasped. The courtesan had made mention of a lover giving her a kiss between her legs, but Victoria had assumed it was an uncommon practice. “I didn’t know gentlemen gave ladies such treatment.”
Thomas’s eyebrows rose. “As I’ve warned you before, I’m no gentleman.”
“Perhaps not by birth, but you are a gentleman in every way that counts.”
“Our current position would indicate otherwise.” He dipped his head and captured her nipple between his lips in a move reminiscent of his nickname, Hawk.
She surrendered. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she let her head fall back. Pleasure spiraled from where his tongue flicked her nipple and collided with the sensations his fingers were evoking between her legs. Never had she felt anything so exquisite. Or overwhelming. Her arms trembled and began to fold, but he swept his arm around her back for support.
He worked alchemy between her legs. He rubbed the most sensitive spot while one of his fingers played at her entrance. It was the best possible torture. If he asked, she would confess all her secrets.
Like how much she loved him, had always loved him, and would always love him.
Instead, he pushed his finger inside her the same time he lightly bit her nipple. Any complex thought was stamped out by a single chant. More. She needed more. Wiggling her hips, she attempted to get closer, but he tightened his arm and kept her from driving farther onto his finger.
“Give me more.” Her voice was breathless and hoarse, as if she’d spent the evening begging him for mercy.
The noise he made was pained. “I want to, but I can’t.”
With shallow movements, he pumped his finger in and out of her in a rhythm that she recognized even though it was her first time. She grasped his shoulders, the solidness of him reassuring her. If she fell, he would catch her. Of that she had no doubt. Her legs quivered. He transferred his mouth from her breasts to her lips and kissed her.
She inched closer to the fog-shrouded precipice and the mystery beyond, finally succumbing. Pleasure dizzied her, and she buried her face in his neck. Her body clamped his finger and wished for more. She drift
ed back to earth like a falling leaf. Exhaustion swamped her in the aftermath.
Thomas fixed the bodice of her chemise, tying the delicate ribbon, and stepped from between her legs to sweep her into his arms. He carried her to the bed and tucked her under the thick quilt.
She could barely keep her eyes open. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
“For what?”
“For not returning the favor.” She grazed a finger down the length of his cock, hard and pressing against the front of his breeches.
He jerked his hips out of reach. “Ah. I didn’t expect you to, love.”
“It’s only fair.” Her eyes were leaden, and it would take a herculean effort to open them. Just as she was drifting to sleep, her mind poked her back awake with a detail that felt important. “You called me ‘love.’ Twice.”
“Rest. We don’t know what tomorrow might bring.”
The questions she wanted to ask—would the men from the alley be looking for them and did he love her—popped like soap bubbles, disappearing entirely as sleep claimed her. A sleep interrupted by the unusual surroundings and the fact she wasn’t alone.
She stirred once to see Garrick on his haunches stoking the fire and another to find him looking out the small, grimy window with a predator’s stance. Both times, she drifted back into a restless darkness marked by dreams alternately fearful and erotic.
Diffuse morning light brought her to full wakefulness. The fire still crackled and warmed the cottage, but a different kind of heat radiated next to her. She turned her head on the pillow. Garrick was stretched out next to her on top of the quilt, his arms crossed over his chest.
Sleep blunted the angles and edges of his face, and she could see hints of the boy he’d been before tragedy had taken his parents. The suddenness and totality of his loss made her heart ache.
Not only had both his parents died, but he’d lost his home and village and everything familiar. One week he’d been safe and secure in his place in the world, and the next he’d been thrown into an orphanage with no one to love and no one to love him.
She turned on her side and drank him in. His dark hair was thick and wavy and mussed. Her fingers twitched to push a stray lock off his forehead. His sleek eyebrows, blade of a nose, and strong jaw could have been carved on a coin. The curve of his lashes and the surprisingly sensuous fullness of his lower lip softened what was otherwise unrelenting hardness.
He wasn’t handsome by ton standards, but he was attractive in a way she couldn’t quantify. He had the face of a battle-tested knight. What lady could resist giving him her favor?
Her gaze wandered over the strong column of his throat to where the hard planes of his chest and a peppering of dark hair peeped out of his shirt. His biceps bulged where they crossed over his chest. She stared at his fingers for a long moment, remembering the magic they had wrought. Heat enveloped her, and she pushed the covers to her waist and continued her examination, her head propped on her hand. His stomach was taut, and his… She swallowed at the ridge visible in his breeches. Had he been in such a state since their encounter?
The tightness in her lower belly made her squirm, and her breasts grew heavy and sensitive. The uncomfortable, restless feeling had returned full force, but now she knew he had the ability to appease her need. She didn’t want to dwell on how he had acquired such talents.
The confrontation with the two men in the alley had upturned what she’d thought she knew about herself. An unfamiliar vulnerability had shaken her footing. Thomas hadn’t taken advantage of her battered confidence or the brandy fuzzing her senses the night before. He could have. She’d certainty begged him to.
The morning brought clarity. A clarity society would deem madness.
She laid a hand on his stomach between his folded arms and the top of his breeches. His breathing remained deep and even, and he didn’t so much as twitch a muscle. She glided her hand to the nearest button of his fall and ever so slowly slid it free.
She glanced up, but his face remained impassive. Biting her bottom lip, she slid her hand into the narrow opening. Her fingertips brushed the hard length of him covered in thin cotton. With a startling quickness, Thomas clamped her wrist.
Oh dear. She’d been caught with her hand in the biscuit tin.
“What the devil are you doing?” His voice was raspy with sleep.
“Is it not obvious?”
He turned his head on the pillow, and their gazes collided. He remained on his back. Her hand remained in his breeches. Their faces were too far away to share a kiss, but close enough she could see the shards of dark amber around his pupils. His expression was a clash of shock and wonder.
With the slowness of a stalking cat, she inched her hand farther inside until the pads of her fingers stroked his length through the cotton. His hand spasmed on her wrist, and his eyes widened with his sharp intake of breath. Yet he didn’t protest.
Her own breathing picked up as she curved her fingers over his cock. She explored the thick length of him, from the taut sacs below to the spear-shaped tip. Imagining his cock in place of his finger gave her a moment’s pause. Would he fit? Her body had no such qualms. She ached to have him between her legs and could feel herself growing slick with want. This time it wasn’t her but him who begged.
“Please.” The word emerged on a chesty groan.
“Do you want me to stop?” She tightened her grip, and his cock pulsed in her hand, making her catch her breath.
“Of course I don’t, but we can’t…” His hips moved restlessly, not away, but into her touch.
“Of course we can.” Whether they should was a different debate. Actually, any sane person would argue they shouldn’t. If they did nothing, at least when their adventure was concluded, she could claim her innocence. Mostly.
It wasn’t merely her night in a cottage with Garrick that was an issue. Lord Berkwith had seen her being pulled into an alley with two ruffians. Only his gentlemanly discretion, which was in question to begin with, stood between her and ruination.
Her mother would already have a plan brewing on her return. Victoria would be married off before any rumors sifted through society. She would be another man’s wife, expected to share his bed whether she wanted to or not. Fate had given her the opportunity to be with the one man she truly wanted and loved. She’d read enough books to know not to thumb her nose at fate.
“Mother wants me to marry soon. Very soon.”
“All the more reason for us to stop this madness.” Yet he didn’t pull away, giving her a shot of hope that was more potent than the brandy.
“There’s only been one man who has ever stirred my blood. Only one man whose bed I’ve dreamed of sharing.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, and his expression could only be described as tortured. Was she winning or losing the argument?
Unable to keep the desperation from her voice, she continued, “I realize you’re a man of the world and have experience with this sort of thing. I’ve only read how to please a man and will probably be a disappointment, but if you could find it in your heart to—”
He jerked the quilt off her and rolled half on top of her in a rush of movement that shocked her into silence. His elbows were braced on either side of her head, his lips an inch from her. “Hush, woman.”
He kissed her, slow and languorous, yet with an underlying intensity of being lured into a trap. She was more than happy to be caught.
She relaxed under his weight, enjoying the feel of him. One of his legs was braced between hers, and his erection was pressed against her thigh. Tentatively, she raised her hands from the mattress and lay them lightly along his flanks. His muscular bulk stirred her senses.
“I need to confess something.” He spoke the words between drugging kisses.
She hummed before nipping the sensuous curve of his bottom lip between her teeth. He raised himself out of the reach of her mouth, and she pretended to pout, hoping he hadn’t changed his mind.
“You mentioned I’m a man
of the world with experience.”
A blush lit her from head to toe. “I want to please you, if you’ll teach me.”
Red burnished his cheeks, and his chuckle was self-depreciating. “I have experience with many things, but not as much as you are assuming.”
“But last night you knew exactly what to do.”
The red from his cheeks traveled down his neck. “I’m not entirely inexperienced, but I’ve never… bedded a woman.”
Thomas was a virile, attractive man. She’d seen the way the maids had eyed him. He’d had countless opportunities. Of that she had no doubt. “Why not?”
His rare smile made a bittersweet longing swell in her chest. “Don’t you know?”
“Because of me?” The slight creak in her voice was a sign of her rising emotion.
For years, she’d assumed her feelings for Thomas were unrequited. Their kiss had renewed her infatuation, but two long years had passed without an overture from him. Her dreams had felt out of reach, and if not for this unexpected turn of events, she might never have had him in her grasp.
“Of course because of you.”
She swallowed back a lump of tears. Turning into a watering pot might put him off. No, it wouldn’t. She smiled through a haze of tears, wrapped her hand around his nape, and pulled him down for a kiss.
“We’ll figure it out together. I’ve read quite a bit more than I should have on the subject. If you would like me to share.”
“Yes, I know about your sojourns to the bookshops and what you bought.”
“I was wondering why you didn’t comment on my attire and the padding.” Her forays were well thought out and perfectly executed. Even her parents were none the wiser. “How long have you known?”
“Since the beginning. Your father tasked me with keeping your safe. I made it my business to know what you were up to. Your disguise was quite good, but not good enough to fool me.”
A Scandalous Secret: Spies and Lovers Page 7