“I’ll have Marie launder this and—”
“Keep it. I have others.” He should find a way to leave. She had stopped crying. She would want to be alone with her memories.
She dropped her gaze back to his shirtfront and put her hand on his chest. “I’m sorry I turned into such a watering pot. I’m sure that’s not what you were expecting.”
“Not quite.” God, he could feel each one of her fingers through the linen. They burned him, branded him…
He should leave.
“Kate, I think—” Damn, her hand was moving lower, over his belly, down to…He held his breath.
She stopped at his waist, but her other hand joined the first, the used handkerchief relegated to the floor. Both hands slid slowly up his body, her fingers tracing his muscles through the cloth.
Dear God! He was going to burst into flames, especially the most interested part of him. He moved his hips back to spare her the evidence.
“Kate.” Was that his voice, so hoarse and thick? He covered her hands with his, staying their explorations. “Kate, I’m not sure—”
“I am.” She looked up at him, her eyes still puffy from her tears. “I wish to seduce you.”
“You’re lonely.”
She hesitated as if she would say something and then changed her mind. She smiled slightly. “So I need company. Will you keep me company?” She leaned forward and kissed the cloth above his heart. “Please?”
He was going to explode. He shouldn’t do this. He should climb back out the window, but frankly, he doubted he was physically able to manage the deed at this particular moment. “Er…”
She looked up again, a slight frown between her brows, her eyes serious. “I’ll be honest, Alex. I know next to nothing about bed play. Oxbury was, well…” She shook her head, shrugged, and then smiled slightly. “But I want to learn.” She pressed closer to him. “With you.”
He tried to think, but all the blood had drained from his head to another organ which was insisting on doing his thinking for him, enthusiastically urging him to get on with it and take the girl to bed. “Kate…”
“Please?” Her small hand found the focus of his enthusiasm and gently, almost hesitantly, brushed over him.
“I’m not…” Damn, he was panting. “I’m really not, ah.” She was tracing his outline now which was growing with each gentle touch. “If you’re looking for an expert”—Oh, God. Her fingers…if they did that again…yes…with a little more pressure…a little more—no. What was he trying to say? Yes. No. He was trying to say no. Or at least maybe or wait or—what the hell—“If you’re looking for an expert, I don’t qualify.”
Blessedly, her hands moved from their current obsession. He could think again. Or maybe not. Now they were working his shirt free of his breeches and slipping underneath to touch his bare skin.
“I don’t want an expert,” she said. “I want you.”
Chapter 8
Her courage wavered. Had she been too bold? Alex seemed markedly less than enthusiastic.
Well, yes, a specific part of him was very eager, almost alarmingly eager, but the rest of him…She started to withdraw her hands from his wonderful, warm skin. She had reached the extent of her limited seduction skills.
His hands slid down to cup her bottom.
“Really, Kate? You really want me?”
She heard hope, need, and a note of pain in his voice that called to her. Perhaps he was as lonely as she was. Perhaps she could offer him something of value besides his physical release.
“Oh, yes, Alex. I’ve never wanted anything—anyone—as much as I want you.” She pushed his shirt up and kissed his hard, lightly-furred chest. Then she pressed her cheek against him and hugged him tightly. She was going to have Alex in her bed. She was finally going to be able to touch him and kiss him, and…and do the other thing with him.
She would happily skip the other thing, but that had always been Oxbury’s focus, even after it was clear she could not give him children, so Alex would probably be just as interested. It was a male thing, having to do with the male organ. She had spent many nights, especially in the early years of their marriage, lying quietly, making a list of household chores she needed to attend to in the morning while Oxbury worked over her, grunting and sweating and moaning.
No matter. It was usually over relatively quickly. And it was a small price to pay for the chance to touch Alex, to have his attention.
He started to pull up her nightgown. Oh, no. She knew where that would lead. She would be flat on her back in minutes. She was having none of it. Not now. Later, yes. After she did her own exploring.
She pushed back from his chest. “No.”
He frowned down at her. “No?”
“Not yet. I want my turn first.”
“Your…turn?” He sounded—he looked—completely confused. Well, that was all right. She didn’t know exactly what she meant, either. But she had asked him here. This was her room. She was going to take charge.
“I want to…experiment.”
“You do?” His eyes looked distinctly wary. “What exactly do you mean…experiment?”
She laughed then. What did he think she meant? She had a very limited imagination. Excitement and an odd recklessness surged through her. She might be forty years old, but she had never felt so young. “I don’t know. I’ll puzzle it out as I go along.” She grinned and spread her fingers over his chest. “You can give me suggestions—as long as you realize I may not take them.” She kissed one of his nipples and heard him inhale sharply. “I make the final decisions.”
“That is not what I am used to, you know.” Was his voice a little breathless?
“I’m sure it is not, but I think I must insist.” She traced the line from his chest to the top of his breeches and felt his belly tense. “I don’t have any experience to speak of in the arts of seduction, however, so I imagine I will need many suggestions.”
“Ah.” Yes, his voice was definitely breathless and a little strained. “I…see. Well, then, please…ah…proceed.”
She ran her tongue over her suddenly dry lips. There was one other detail she should mention. She watched her finger smooth his soft hair, drawing a little pattern on his stomach. She swallowed. This was rather hard to say. Mortifying. It shouldn’t be. He should be happy to hear it.
“Before we…s-start…ah…” She swallowed. “You should know…that is, you’ll be pleased to know…well, you may be relieved to hear you do not need to worry…what I mean to say is…” She wished she didn’t have to say it. He might guess it, of course, due to her age, but age wasn’t to blame in this case. The problem…the difficulty was…
Well, if she weren’t this way, she would never have invited him here. There were only so many risks she was willing to take.
“Kate?” The edge of his hand came under her chin. He raised her face.
She met his eyes and looked away quickly. She couldn’t be distracted by his touch. She dropped her hands and stepped back. She took a deep breath and stared at his shirt which had now fallen back down to cover his body.
“You need not worry that an unfortunate event will occur in nine months’ time.” She cleared her throat, swallowed again. Best just to blurt it out. “I’m barren.”
“God, Kate.”
Was that pity in his voice? She didn’t want pity. Not now. For once it was good she was barren. And she was far too old for children in any case.
She was going to be a seductress. She was going to play. She was not going to think about children, about a son or daughter with Alex’s eyes—
No, she was not going to think about it.
“I’ve had many years to accustom myself to the fact. And it is convenient now, wouldn’t you say?” She tried to laugh. “At my age it must be impossible to c-conceive, even if I had ever been f-fertile.”
Damn. Her voice broke.
“Kate—”
If they started discussing her failing, they would never get into her bed.
She put her fingers over Alex’s mouth. She did not want to think about children or Oxbury. She didn’t want to think at all.
“We are starting now, all right?” Please, don’t ask questions, Alex. Please just play the game.
He frowned. She was certain he was going to protest and ruin everything, but he didn’t. She felt his lips move against her fingers in a kiss. He nodded. She smiled and stepped back.
“Good. Now, take off your shirt, please.”
Alex just looked at her.
Damn. Was he going to insist on talking about children, then? She bit her lip. If he did, she would cry and the whole evening would be a disaster. She would sleep alone again. She would never know what it was like to…be with Alex. She would not get the courage to ask him again. She would—
He was reaching for the hem of his shirt. Thank God! He grasped it in both hands and quickly pulled it over his head, dropping it on the floor by his feet.
Oh. Oh, my. He took her breath away. “You’re beautiful.”
He snorted, his cheeks reddening. “I am not beautiful.”
“You are.” She’d known his stomach was flat and hard; she’d just felt it. She’d known his shoulders were broad—but they looked so much broader naked. Muscles curved in his arms—and even in his chest and stomach. He was like a statue of a Greek god, but instead of being cold, white marble, he was warm flesh. She stepped closer and put her hands on him again.
Very warm.
His arms came up to pull her close. She stiffened. Not yet. She wanted to take things slowly, savor every moment. She would not get another chance. This was only for tonight, to satisfy her curiosity. Tomorrow she would be the strait-laced Lady Oxbury again.
“No, Alex. You can only suggest.”
“What?”
“You can suggest that you put your arms around me; I’m the one who will decide if you do so.”
He looked as if he might argue.
“However, I have decided—for the moment—that this is a good suggestion, so you may keep your arms where they are.”
A corner of his mouth turned up. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She ran her hands over his chest and then followed her hands with her mouth. Her tongue.
She heard a very satisfactory gasp. Alex’s hands moved to her sides, slid up toward her breasts.
“Not yet, sir.” Though she was surprised to find her body was definitely interested in feeling Alex’s touch.
Was that a growl she heard? She laughed up at him and pushed herself free. “You may remove your breeches next, Mr. Wilton.”
He put his hands on his hips. Was he annoyed? Embarrassed? Perhaps this was not such a good game after all.
But she had to do something. She couldn’t just climb into bed, stretch herself out, and lie quietly for him to mount her as she had for Oxbury all those years. She didn’t want that. Surely there was another way.
“What about your nightgown, Kate? I suggest you remove that.”
“I will…later.” What would she do if he wouldn’t play along? Should she give up now? Apparently men were all the same. Perhaps if she were an experienced courtesan, she could seduce Alex, make him so mad with lust he would do anything she said. Not that she wanted to order him around, but—
His hands were at his fall. He was going to play along.
Her entire body flushed, she was certain of it. Heat flooded her face, her breasts, her belly, even the place between her legs that usually winced with the thought of the procreative act. She swallowed. She was even salivating in anticipation of seeing all of Alex’s body. Did he know she was so consumed with lust?
She glanced up at his face. His eyes were hot, intense, slightly hooded. A slow smile curved his lips.
He knew.
“I’m having trouble with my buttons, Kate.” His voice was huskier than normal, low and deep.
Good heavens, she was actually throbbing.
“Oh.” The word came out in a shaky breath.
“Yes. Can you help me?”
“H-help you?”
“Please?” He thrust his hips slightly toward her. There was no hiding that his male organ had swollen to a remarkable size.
She had never considered the issue, but in this case at least, the larger the man, the larger the…
“Do you suppose you might undo my buttons for me? I’m sure your smaller fingers are more nimble than mine, and, as you can see”—there was heat and a note of humor in his voice—“I am rather in a state.”
“Yes, I can see that.” She was the one who’d started this game. She couldn’t complain when he came up with his own ideas—she’d said he could suggest things. And the thought of undressing him, while it wouldn’t have occurred to her on her own, was enticing. “Very well, I will assist you.”
Alex inhaled as Kate stepped close to him. She smelled wonderful. The scent of lavender was there as always, but now there was the added scent of heat and need. He wanted to touch her, to kiss her, to strip off her gown and trace that sweet smell of musk and woman to its source.
Her fingers fumbled with one of his buttons, brushing over the hard, aching length of him. “Ah.” He closed his eyes briefly. Heaven—or rather, the beginnings of heaven. True paradise would happen shortly, in the bed behind him.
She looked up. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“N-no.” He could barely get the word out. Hell, he could barely think. He put his hands on her shoulders. He had to steady himself somehow or he would collapse. Thankfully, Kate did not object. She was too busy with her fingers, her wonderful, teasing fingers. Finally she got the last button free.
Ah. He fell into her warm, smooth, delicate hands. Oh, God. He had never felt anything so exquisite.
Until she began to stroke him. Light, tentative touches all along his length.
He was panting as if he had just run a race.
“Are you all right, Alex?”
“No.” Was that croaking in his voice? “Yes.”
“Am I hurting you?”
“No. God, no.”
“May I remove your breeches for you?”
“Yes.” He was about to beg her to do so—or to rip them off himself. “Please.”
Her hands slid around to push the cloth over his hips and down his legs. Her face, her mouth, was level with…dodging, in fact…
“May I make a suggestion?” God, he was still croaking like a frog—a lust-maddened frog.
She paused. “What do you suggest?”
“It would be very, very pleasant if you…kissed me, er, there.”
Kate sat back on her heels. “Kiss you?”
“Ah.” He could feel himself reddening, though how he could feel embarrassment when his emotions were consumed with lust was a bit of a conundrum. Was all of him red? He was not about to look. “Kiss. Touch me with your lips…there.” There could be little question as to where “there” was. “Your lips and perhaps your…tongue.”
“What an odd suggestion.” Kate stared at his cock—he’d swear it grew another inch, though that was clearly impossible. “And you would like that?”
“V-very much.”
“Hmm. All right.” She leaned forward, and her lips brushed over him. “Like this?”
“Yes.” He had never felt anything so wonderful—until her tongue rasped over his tip seconds later. And then her lips fastened onto him. She was a very quick learner.
He was going to pass out. At a minimum, he was going to fall down if he didn’t sit down—or better, lie down—immediately. He tugged gently on Kate’s hair.
She did not respond. Apparently the woman could be very single-minded when she wished to be. He tugged a little harder.
“Kate, sweetheart, love.” He allowed a note of desperation to creep into his voice. Hell, he was desperate.
She finally stopped her activities and looked up.
“What is it?” She grinned, the minx. “I am having a splendid time—I do not believe I care to be interrupted.”
“And I hate to have to interrupt you, my love, but I do have my physical limitations.”
“You do?” She kissed him, and he’d swear the limits of that particular organ expanded again. “Where?”
He choked back a slightly hysterical laugh. “Kate, you are bringing me to my knees—literally. I am a forty-five-year-old man—though I don’t know I would fare much better with this torture were I twenty-two again. I suggest—I very urgently suggest—that we adjourn to that lovely bed over there.”
Alex did sound desperate, and Kate found she was ready for the next step. She stood, sliding her hands up Alex’s sides. She wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. His skin was so soft, but his body was so hard. “I think that is a splendid idea.”
“I am so glad you agree.” He laid his hands on her back and murmured in her ear. “And I have another idea.”
“You do?” She wriggled against him, and smiled when she heard his sharply indrawn breath. He was very well-behaved though—too well-behaved. She’d like his hands to move. She’d especially like them to move downward, past her waist. “What is your idea?”
“I suggest you would be more comfortable without this annoying nightgown. It is far too threadbare to provide any warmth.” He brushed his lips over her earlobe. “I think you are generating plenty of heat on your own, but if you feel the least bit cold, I am more than willing to act as your blanket.”
“Hmm. You may be correct.” She tilted her head back and smiled at him. “Would you care to remove it?”
“Sweetheart, I thought you would never ask.”
Alex kissed her once, quick and hard, and then let her go. She felt bereft, but she knew it was only momentary. She watched him strip off his shoes, breeches, and stockings; then he knelt and put his hands on her ankles. She waited, but nothing happened.
“I thought you were removing my nightgown.”
“I am.” He hands moved leisurely up her ankles to her calves. “Slowly.”
“Oh.” Slowly was torture—wonderful torture. She grabbed his shoulders. His muscles flexed under her fingers. His hands moved to her knees. “Perhaps you should move more quickly.”
The Naked Baron Page 11