Her fingers went to immediately tug them loose, and when his hand found her breast again, she sighed in near relief. With only her nightgown as a barrier, she could feel the heat of his palm. The soft cambric rasped against her skin as he pinched her nipple in a gentle rhythm that had answering darts of pleasure coursing through her body. The swell of the delicate flesh between her thighs had her shifting restlessly on top of him. Soon, even that wasn’t enough. She wanted nothing between them.
Her hands returned to her nightdress, trembling with her need to have him touch her. Gently, his own steadier hands brushed hers aside, completing the task with minimal time and effort. She could only watch as he smoothed the fabric off her shoulders, baring both of her breasts to him. She had never been this exposed to anyone, but watching his eyes darken with longing and need, she didn’t feel shy or embarrassed.
He moved slowly and with intention, sliding out from beneath her and pressing her back to lie on the sofa as he leaned over her. As if it existed on instinct alone, her back arched, pressing upward as he leaned down to lavish attention on first one breast and then the other. She didn’t even try to stop the soft cry of pleasure that escaped her with the first tug of his mouth. When he shifted, she moved with him, spreading her thighs in the tangle of too much fabric to allow his heavy thigh to rest between them.
The cool air of the room touched her calf as his hand found its way beneath her nightdress. The hem slid higher as he leaned over her, resting a forearm on the sofa above her. She was held riveted by the intense desire in his face as he stared down at her.
“I want to touch you, August.” He didn’t ask, but the request was there in the slow perusal of his fingers on the inside of her knee.
Her heart pounded in her chest, and she felt as if she couldn’t take a solid breath, but she wanted him to touch her. Nodding, she let her foot drop to the floor, opening herself wider to him. He smiled and kissed her the very moment his fingers delved between the lips of her sex. She gasped against his mouth.
The tip of his finger dipped into her, drawing forth the hot need from her body and smoothing the liquid heat over her swollen flesh. She had read about the clitoris before, in a book she had found beneath her brother’s bed almost ten years ago. It had taken her all this time to understand what it was that she had read. A tide of need rose within her as his clever fingers moved in a soft but firm rhythm, causing her body to clench around emptiness. “Evan,” she whispered.
She closed her eyes and pressed her face to his arm as her hips arched up to his touch. One finger gently thrust into the emptiness, she could feel herself clench around him, but it was almost as if her body was out of her control. It responded on instinct based in pure need. “Please,” she said as it moved in and out of her.
He answered her request by pushing in another finger, stretching her with a slightly burning pain. He rested there without moving, allowing her to become accustomed to the invasion, as the heel of his hand put firm pressure on the swollen ache of her clitoris. His mouth lazily moved downward, kissing her ear, the hollow of her throat, her breast. His tongue teased her nipple, circling it and laving it until he growled and took it into his mouth, plunging his fingers into her as he did so. She nearly came apart at the sensation that sent tunneling through her. And this time he didn’t stop. His fingers continued thrusting until the slight burn had been replaced by ripples of pleasure that begged to be fed. She moved her hips beneath his touch, searching for more, and when he shifted so that his thumb could brush over her clitoris, she exploded. Waves of ecstasy crashed over her in a seemingly endless tide until she lay limp beneath him.
She had no idea how much time had passed before she became aware of herself again. It couldn’t have been long. Her heart still pounded, and she had yet to catch her breath. He held her against his side, and somehow they had shifted so that she half lay on top of him, her leg wantonly thrown over his. She should have been concerned that her nightdress was still up around her hips, or that his hand—the same hand that had brought her pleasure—rested on her thigh. Or she might have been concerned that her breasts were still bare. None of that mattered.
He smiled at her and brushed the tip of her nose with his. “You’re beautiful when you come.”
Her cheeks flamed. “Is that what you call it?”
“Yes.” He shifted, pulling her fully on top of him, and grabbed her buttocks. She started at the intimacy, and the way his hands molded her to him, spreading her, taking control of her. It felt foreign and forbidden, but also exhilarating and visceral. Honest and primal. He bucked upward, pressing the hard ridge of his shaft against her feminine flesh.
While she had been momentarily sated, her curiosity about him was insatiable, and her body answered that need with a fresh wave of arousal. Testing her effect on him, she moved her hips, grinding herself against him. A masculine groan of desire was pulled from deep in his chest.
Surprising herself, she reached between them and laid her palm against his length. He closed his eyes, seeming to savor her touch. “What do you call this?”
One piercing blue eye opened to focus on her. “A cock,” he answered in no uncertain terms.
The word itself sounded deliciously vulgar. She might have blushed had they not already done things that were beyond blushing. She squeezed and watched the pleasant sensation wash over his face. She did it again and he gasped, “Christ, August.” His breath was heavy on her, but he didn’t pull away. As she learned the shape of him, his hips jerked, and he thrust against her hand. His lips parted and then his jaw clenched tight, his hands fisting in the folds of her nightgown as he squeezed his eyes shut and drew taut as a bowstring against her.
Finally, his hand covered hers and his voice was a harsh whisper as he said, “My God, I want all of you.” Amazingly, this man who was vastly more experienced than she gazed up at her with an expression of wonder on his face. His free hand brushed a strand of hair back from her face, and his fingertips touched her lips in awe. “We have to stop now.”
“But I don’t want to stop.” Her words surprised them both. However, she knew they were true as soon as she heard them. She didn’t want to wait to have him. She didn’t want their first time together to be in a marriage bed that had been arranged by her parents’ schemes. She wanted it to be now, after the most intimate moment of her life. She wanted it on her own terms.
“There will be time once we are married.” He sat up and swung his legs over the side so that he was seated, taking her with him to straddle his lap. His arms went around her, holding her close so that she thought he meant to pick her up and walk with her back to the table, but he simply held her. She was exhilarated to see that his fingers trembled as he cupped her cheek. “You do not have to give me your maidenhead, not until you’re ready. Our wedding night, a month later . . . a year later.”
“I want to have this night for our own. No families. No negotiations. Only us.” His expression seemed to sharpen with need as he understood she was serious. Desire and decorum seemed to be at war within him, the fighter and the gentleman. The two sides she had only begun to discover existed with him. How she hoped the fighter won out in this. To ensure that it did, she kissed him.
He gripped handfuls of her nightdress and wrapper and broke the kiss only long enough to pull them both off over her head in one fell swoop. Then he wrapped his arms around her and held her flush against him as he devoured her mouth. So this is how it felt to be naked in his arms. Where he was hard, she was soft, and where he was lightly furred, she was smooth. She moved, testing and liking the way the hair on his chest scraped against her nipples.
He grinned against her lips and plucked a nipple with his thumb and forefinger. Pleasure throbbed from her nipple to her core. “You like being touched. How fortunate, because I like touching you.”
Releasing her nipple, his hand molded itself to her as it moved down to dip between her spread thighs an
d find her wet. She bucked against his hand as he grazed her still-swollen flesh. He played with her until she was writhing and aching for him to fill her again. Only when she reached desperately for the fastenings of his trousers did he release her to help.
His cock sprang free, rising up toward his navel as he shifted upward to push the trousers down. He froze as soon as she touched him. She hadn’t known what to expect, but it hadn’t been this impossible length of male that felt hot and smooth as silk against her palm. It did not give as she stroked it, holding itself strong and proud.
“August,” he whispered in near pain, but he allowed her to finish exploring.
Her thumb traced over the opening at the end, spreading the tiny bit of pearly liquid she found there. He groaned and grabbed her hips, pulling her up. She clutched his shoulders and rose onto her knees to aid him as he shifted, notching the tip of him against her. She shivered in anticipation.
“Ready?”
“Yes.” It was hardly more than a breath. She was more than ready; her entire body trembled with need and longing.
Finally, he let her slide down his length, raising his hips in gentle pumps to ease the way. The pleasure was indescribable. Her entire awareness centered on that point of contact. The ache in her had grown so inconsolable that this was the only way to quench it. Yet, as he filled her, he stretched her with a burning pain, and when her body seemed capable of accepting no more, he pushed upward, filling her the last bit until they were joined completely.
She didn’t cry out, but instead pressed her face into his neck, letting his scent surround her. His hands moved in slow strokes up and down the length of her back, the touches gradually becoming more sensual until he was kneading her buttocks and lifting her gently and rocking into her. The pain slowly melted into pleasure, ebbing through her in waves that had her moving with him. Her fingers tightened in his hair, and her gaze met his. She had never felt so connected to another person. It far transcended their physical joining.
His name tumbled from her lips as his movements became more structured and controlled. A hand guided her hip, as the other slipped between them, finding her aching flesh and stroking her with each thrust, caressing her from both sides. It wasn’t long before the pleasure in her belly was tightening like a spring, coiling and twisting until it had no choice but to explode within her. He gripped her hips with both hands and held her firm against him as he thrust up inside her in several short thrusts before he found his own release.
As they both came back to themselves, he held her curled against his chest, his lips brushing soft kisses along her brow. “Are you hurt?” he finally asked.
“Only a little sore,” she whispered, smiling up at him.
He kissed her softly and with much less urgency than before. This new aftermath felt strange and wonderful all at the same time. Her limbs were heavy, and her body was sated, but she didn’t want to leave him, even though a new awareness of her nakedness was slowly settling over her. When she shifted, he slid out from under her and adjusted his trousers. The heat of embarrassment swept over her face as she noticed a smudge of pink on the pale skin of his belly. There was probably a reason this was done for the first time in a proper bed.
An arm crossed over her chest as she realized how reckless this had been. The door was closed but not locked. Anyone could have seen them had they come to check why light was shining from beneath the door at this hour.
“Shh . . .” His voice was a strong murmur as he knelt before her on the floor.
She barely had time to register his intent before he pressed a wad of white cloth—his shirt!—against the tenderness between her legs, wiping her clean.
“Do you regret it?” His gaze was soft and comforting.
“No,” she answered honestly, unable to stop smiling. “Only surprised. I swear I never intended that to happen tonight.”
Leaning forward, he kissed her and then sat back on his heels to clean the evidence of her virginity from his skin. She gasped aloud when he finished and leaned forward, placing a kiss on her inner thigh. “Neither did I, but I am glad it did.”
Grabbing his face, a face that was quickly becoming beloved to her, she brought him up for a kiss, probably their thousandth of the night. And they would have so many more in their future. A rare feeling of hopeful contentment settled over her. She still had mixed emotions about marrying at this point in her life, but she could finally answer Violet’s question with confidence. Yes, she would choose Evan over all other men.
“Me too.”
“Come.” He rose and offered her his hand. Pulling her to stand, he helped her dress, kissing her breasts before he buttoned her nightdress over them. As she shrugged into her wrapper, he put on his coat and retrieved his shirt and waistcoat. Wrapping an arm around her, he said, “I will escort you to your room.”
“What if someone sees?” she asked, mildly alarmed. She’d had visions of them both skulking out of the library at different times to avoid suspicion should anyone be about.
“Let them. We will be married as soon as it can be arranged.”
She laughed but quickly covered her mouth to stifle the sound. “We cannot announce what we’ve done to the entire house.”
“Then you should take care to be quiet,” he teased.
He would be her husband. They would make love as often as they wanted. It seemed unbelievable, but genuine happiness filled her at the thought. Amid giggles because he persisted in trying to get them caught, they made their way to her bedroom. Thankfully, the halls were dark and there was no one about. It made for a longer trip because he kept stopping to kiss her.
At her bedroom door, she pulled him full against her with their final kiss and spread her palms against his bare chest, reluctant to give him up touching him.
“I wish I could have you again,” he whispered. “But you need time to heal, and we will not have long to wait.”
She nodded. “I know. I simply feel . . .” How did she explain the sudden dread that had developed when her bedroom had come into sight? What if things between them went back to how they had been? What if this side of him was only a mirage?
Holding her close, he kissed her forehead and then gently touched her chin, urging her to look up at him. “I do want us to have a marriage built on respect and affection. We will have many more nights like this.”
“You are leaving tomorrow?” she asked.
He nodded. “I have to. A business matter has come up, and it cannot wait.”
“Business? More fighting?” She thought of the horrible man with the spikes on the soles of his shoes.
“There will be another fight next week. Wilkes owes me that much after the stunt he pulled. But I have to leave tomorrow because my solicitor has long suspected that our previous solicitor absconded with funds. He’s been found, and there appears to be new information.” He gently touched her lips before she could speak and grinned. “Do not get too excited. I am certain whatever he took has long been spent, nor would it be enough to cover my debts.”
She smiled at him. “I’m sure you’re right. Please be careful with Wilkes. He’s a dangerous and likely desperate man.”
He kissed her once more. “I will. I promise you, this will be the last fight for money, and then there will only be us to consider.”
He was right. They would be married soon. She would be a wife. They would be happy. Her dread was only leftover misgivings and anxiety about leaving her old life behind.
Chapter 20
Life is a flower for which love is the honey.
Victor Hugo
Evan should have spent the morning focusing on how he was going to persuade Mercer from calling the loan on Sterling House. Wilkes’s payment had not satisfied the man’s greed and ruthless glee at having a Sterling under his thumb. In fact, it had seemed to have the opposite effect, rather like a starving wolf scenting bloo
d. Not only had he not extended the grace period, but he had demanded the rest payable immediately. Clark’s telegram the day before had all but expressed his personal despair at the situation, which had required Evan to book a seat on the noon train back to London in order to appear before the creditors personally. It had also hinted at new information in the disappearance of the solicitor, but Evan was not inclined to put much hope in that. His thoughts should have been absorbed with the upcoming confrontation.
But he was not. August absorbed his thoughts.
He might also have been irate about his brief meeting with Crenshaw after dinner last night. The man had taken particular glee in writing out a letter that Evan had been forced to confess was necessary. The letter was now held securely in the inside pocket of Evan’s chesterfield. It stated in no uncertain terms that Evan was to be married to the man’s daughter in the very near future, date to be determined. The very idea that Evan, a duke of the realm, needed someone, especially an American, to vouch for him was galling. Or it would have been under normal circumstances.
But there was August. The fact that she was there waiting for him at the end of this string of indignities was enough. The events of the previous night still seemed otherworldly. Had Evan not gone to sleep with the smell of her on his fingers, and the memory of how exquisitely her body had joined to his, he might have thought it a hallucination. He had woken up aching for her all over again. Unfortunately, he had yet to see her, because the morning had been spent packing and arranging papers and contracts with the estate manager.
Dropping the last of the contracts into his traveling case so that he could review them on the train, he snapped the leather case closed. At that exact moment, the study door swung open and August stood framed in the doorway. Her cheeks were lightly flushed, and there was a softness about her features, a sort of wonder in her eyes, that he knew must have been mirrored in his own. He drifted around his desk and toward her with the irresistible pull of iron to lodestone.
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