The Last Gamble

by Anabelle Bryant

  The last statement brought about a change altogether, but now her ability to decipher true emotion evaporated in heat of his position, a scant inch away. His body called to hers like two forces drawn together beyond conscious thought or decisive control. Her heart pounded in demand.

  She was naïve in the ways of physical desire. Still, the infernal yearning for his arms to encircle her in strength and protection, to feel the rich timbre of his voice as he murmured her name before he crushed his mouth to hers, drummed in her veins. What a fool she was to want these things when life had already taught her dreams and wishes were children’s fancy. Yet a part of her brain, or perhaps no logic at all, persisted what harm could there be in enjoying the experience, however fleeting?

  They stared at each other with shadows and firelight dancing between them as the truth settled, perhaps both a little lost in regret. She had no way to know. Still, when the shimmer of tears threatened to blur her vision, she turned away, seeking solace elsewhere. She placed her hand on the window casement, bracing for whatever he would say next.

  ‘Dursley will not return to London tomorrow.’

  The words, spoken in a calm tone with exacting purpose, sparked a flare of suspicion. It curled through her as she considered his remark. ‘You knew.’ She sniffled, unable to contain the emotion bubbling up from a well of disappointment. She hesitated because of it. ‘You convinced me to come here anyway.’

  ‘Not at first.’ His voice came out on a rasp and she watched his reflection in the windowpane, indistinct and softened by the tears that marred her vision, though his words still cut deep. ‘I had no choice. Nate is all I have.’

  His admittance tore into her heart. Gone was the anger and bluster. It was the most honest confession she’d heard from him. He’d bared his soul. His son held his heart. How would it feel to be so cherished? Regret told her she would never know.

  In a series of decisions, she turned to face him, her voice tender. ‘I will write to Lord Tucker and explain my delay.’ A tear leaked out, a result of too much emotion, and she swiped at it with her fingertips, embarrassed and anxious for him to leave her alone. ‘I will help you recover your son.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Luke watched Georgina’s eyes fill with tears and wondered when he’d become so calculating that causing a female’s despair was acceptable behaviour. He cursed himself and reached for her, out of depth and confused by the demanding urge to keep her in his arms for ever. He’d convinced himself she was a means to an end, but was too smart to believe his own lie. She suggested he forget her once their association ended. Was she mad? Her scent haunted him when he slept, her smile burned into his brain. And her hair, he wished to kiss every strand, wrap the length around his fist and pull her to his mouth for a long, heated kiss. His cock hardened every time she settled those crystal-blue eyes on him.

  He would never forget this frustrating governess with an intolerable bun similar to ribbons of silk in every colour, sweet, soft curves that somehow quieted the disruptive emotion living in his soul. She had brought him back to life after feeling nothing but emptiness since the day Nathaniel was taken.

  This was how he thanked her. By causing tears.

  She came willingly into his embrace, the fight having left them both and, as he wrapped his arms around her slender back, he marvelled at the ideal fit of her body against his, the way she tucked her face into his chest over his heart, the perfection of their height, his chin atop her silken hair. His broken exhale disturbed the strands, his fingers too busy to pluck the pins.

  Nothing about his life had come easily. Not childhood, survival or fatherhood, at that. What did Georgina hide? What secrets haunted her soul? Something so troubling as to require a fictitious name and occupation. Had she been born into high society, she would need no excuses for whatever wrong she held herself accountable. Had she been born into high society he would never have met her or had the chance to kiss her… like he would now.

  That alone created an unexpected gift.

  ‘I shouldn’t have yelled.’ He spoke against her temple, the admission meant as an apology.

  She angled back, lifting her head from his chest, and he immediately mourned the loss of her warmth. He didn’t allow her to speak, the moment too fragile, his need too great. He wouldn’t take her mouth in the way of the fantasies he imagined at night in his bed. Instead he would atone for his behaviour with a gentle assault in hope of demonstrating how precious he considered her.

  He kissed her forehead and her eyes fell closed to shut away sight and relinquish control to sensation. The action caused a wayward tear to catch in her lashes and he kissed that away too. He trailed soft, gentle touches across her cheekbones and she sighed, the blissful concession ratcheting his ardour, taunting his struggle to remain in control, but he would give her this. She deserved so much more.

  He inhaled, her scent an invigoration to his ardour, his cock hard and aching. Forcing tenderness, he touched his lips to hers, eternally sweet and incredibly arousing. He grazed her mouth with soft, fleeting brushes, stoking the moment like a fire he needed to coax to full flame. He closed his eyes and captured her lips. Aware their kiss would become an inferno, he surrendered to the heat and ran towards the flames.

  She felt it too, her hushed moan nothing more than a whimper devoured by their heat. She smoothed her hands up his chest, over his shoulders and into the lengths of his hair, where she tangled her fingers and held tight. The jerk of pain as she pulled him closer reverberated in his groin. She was a sensuous woman, a creature of intuitive emotion and sumptuous desire, even if she’d only begun to learn the natural desires of her body. He was of like kind, the unintended coincidence all the more meaningful.

  She pressed closer, her breasts buffeted to the tightened muscles of his chest, and he answered her plea by deepening their kiss, his tongue finding hers hot and ready, a lick of silken flame to incinerate the last threads of control. He meant to be gentle, coax her trust and forgiveness, but now, as she slid her satiny tongue against his, twined and parried as if she couldn’t taste enough of him, he discarded good intentions, his body strung taut.

  He gathered her in his embrace, turning to sink down into the settee, her luscious curves draped across his lap.

  She broke away and gasped as they landed, no doubt surprised by his manoeuvre and acutely aware of the hard ridge of his arousal pressed to her bottom.

  ‘I can’t stop now.’ His husky murmur barely had time to be heard before he reclaimed her mouth. Settled on the cushion, his hands were free to glide over her, seeking soft skin wherever it was exposed. She wore a fashionable green day gown. It was all he could recollect from when he’d stormed through the doorway on a rampage to discover where she’d ventured earlier. Blinded by his foolish rage, he hadn’t spared time to take her in. He already knew she was devastating to his heart. Why offer the weak organ further ammunition?

  Now, as his hands skimmed over buttons and bows, the muslin featherlight against the texture of his palms, he wished he’d taken a moment to collect another image of her before he mussed her appearance. Pushing his fingers through her hair, he released the lengths, despising how captive she kept the innumerable hues of mahogany and sable.

  He moved his hand to her hip and further to her delicious backside, trapped beneath the confines of too many layers. He stroked and caressed, erotic circles with deliberate pressure, while their mouths communicated in a passionate language all their own. He licked into her deep, his tongue plunging between her sweet lips again and again. She wriggled in response, the weight and motion a source of pleasure-pain, which began and ended in his erection. He worked to undo the buttons down her back, plucking each one open with a nimble touch honed to expert skill on keyholes and safe locks, progressing quickly without detection. A button detached and he dropped it to the carpet, another and another fell through the loops until at last the fabric parted beneath his touch. He slid his fingers inside, against soft, sensitive skin he believed
never before caressed by a man.

  The privilege made his cock throb, a sexual bounty locked away under layers of fabric, his to explore like a pirate who seeks treasure. His alone.

  He broke away, her reaction breathtaking, a beautiful goddess in rapturous torpor. Eyes still closed, she dropped her head back to expose a lovely neck, delicate collarbones, the rapid beat of her pulse drumming so hard he could see it race below her skin. He wanted to lick her there, feel her life beneath his tongue. As if she understood, her breath came in rapid exhales, and the exertion, paired with her loosened bodice, brought rise to the swell of her delicious breasts. He feasted with his eyes, mesmerized by the flesh in front of him, anxious and at the same time at odds to disrupt the moment.

  Her eyes fluttered open, a question in their depths.

  ‘Do you want this, Georgina? I can’t stop now.’ His voice was nothing more than a husky rasp.

  She released an aching sigh in lieu of comment. But no, he needed it from her lips.

  ‘Tell me this is what you want.’ He worked his hand beneath her bodice, pushed away every barrier to expose her breasts, the fabric crumpled at her waist.

  ‘Yes.’ She brought her head up, looked him in the eye and whispered against his lips. ‘Yes, please.’

  He kissed her, a fierce, open-mouthed exchange that lingered and probed before he drew back, his body yearning for release, his blood electric, every point of his being sensitized and at the same time avaricious.

  Her breasts waited, delicate creamy skin to the tender peaks, pink-brown, as sweet as the apricots she favoured. He captured her breasts in his palms, thumbed the tips, fondled and pinched, and she twisted atop his lap, scoring herself into his soul, searing his memory. He leaned in to trail kisses along her shoulder and lower, her fragrance a beguiling spell. He wanted more of her, all of her, not on his lap, but in his bed. To have her stripped bare beneath him, riding him astride or bent over the footboard. He needed her all ways and the multiple images bombarded him with a force he’d never known.

  ‘I can give you so much pleasure.’ He nuzzled her neck and kissed a path downward. ‘Let me do that for you.’ His murmur faded as he set his mouth to her breast. He wanted to taste her everywhere. Need fired in his blood, but something else existed, something stronger, more demanding, a torturous sweet longing that defied explanation.

  He stroked his tongue and circled her nipple, pebble-hard as she arched against his mouth. His prim, proper governess was composed of sensuality and passion. Sweet Christ, she was gorgeous, all luscious curves and luminous heat. An incomparable beauty. Every time she twisted on his lap, he fought temptation, his hard arousal pressed tight to her backside. He wanted to gather her skirts, find her sex and drive into her heat.

  But he couldn’t. Not now. He knew better. Even a bastard like he knew better.

  And somehow knowing that made him want it all the more.

  Her hair had fallen over her shoulder, silk flames of golden brown, and he pushed it away, his hand cupping her shoulder where he nipped and kissed. She was completely dishevelled and a creature to behold. Still, he knew his limits.

  Every one of them.

  Except this once…

  This once he could have what he wanted. Not what life gave him or employment demanded. Not the responsibility he’d accepted because he felt the need to do what was right. No. What he wanted. What he desired and craved and truly wanted.

  Just this once.

  He collected her skirts with his free hand and raised the fabric until her stockings were bared, a naughty vixen governess atop his lap. She didn’t stop him when he traced the bit of lace at the edge with his fingertip. She quivered when he pressed his palm to her hip. And she all but leapt off his lap when he inched her thighs apart and spread wide the slit in her pantalets to exposed her sex, sable soft and slick from desire. With a throaty moan, she buried her face against his neck, the heat of her kisses evidence she’d surrendered to sensation, enchanted as he.

  Georgina lost control long before Luke unbuttoned her gown, lowered her bodice or parted her pantalets. How easy it was to relinquish control, discard worry and ignore the heartache that lived inside her with every breath whenever she entered his embrace. Just this once, before she confronted the new day or returned to Coventry, she would feel instead of think, possess something for herself instead of others.

  She should be ashamed, half-dressed in the house of a married couple who’d cordially welcomed her as a favour to a friend, but she experienced only pleasure.

  Inordinate pleasure.

  Luke evoked a passion she hadn’t known existed and never wanted to stop. Everything else fell away; their surroundings and circumstance, promises made or consequences dared. They were man and woman, alone on the edge of an intimacy she would treasure always.

  She didn’t possess experience of which he was likely accustomed and did not worry the point. If pleasure was the goal, she would feel and offer, give and take, until nothing else mattered. Breathing in his scent, citrus and male, she kissed his neck, darted her tongue out for a taste of his skin, the rush of cool air on her thighs as titillating as the anticipation of his touch. She closed her eyes tighter, knowing the stroke of his fingertip across her core would rattle her composure, the deep yearning of her heart collected with the pulsing need of fulfillment. How could something so excruciating feel so utterly incredible? She didn’t care as long as she could experience the sensation again.

  He pressed his palm against her inner thigh, widening her seat on his lap and, with the action, ramped expectancy. Why wouldn’t he touch her? Stroke her and alleviate the desperate longing. She wriggled, urging him on with her body, her brain able to produce one raspy syllable only.

  ‘Please.’

  She was exposed to him, as vulnerable as possible, waiting near unbearable.

  He chuckled, deep and throaty, fantastically wicked, as he angled his shoulders back to force her to lift her head. ‘Look at me.’

  He still hadn’t touched her and the agony of anticipation for that initial shock throbbed in every point of her body. Her nipples ached, tender and abraded from his mouth. Her pulse sped in race with her heart, and down below, where all emotion materialized, she pulsed and throbbed with want.

  ‘Look at me.’

  She acquiesced and matched his silver gaze, realizing it was the only way she’d ever get what she needed.

  ‘Is this what you desire?’ He feathered the lightest touch across her core, though his question demanded an answer. She shuddered and he smiled, a broad grin complete with devastating dimple. ‘Like this?’ He stroked her again and her legs trembled.

  ‘Please, Luke.’ She didn’t know how else to ask him. He was the only one able to quell her unrelenting desire and he chose torment instead.

  ‘You’re so pretty here, Georgina.’ He pressed a finger between her folds and his caress caused her muscles to quiver and tense. ‘How do you taste?’

  She inhaled a sharp breath at what he suggested and closed her eyes against the immediate image, erotic and forbidden, his dark head between her legs, his tongue on her sex.

  ‘Sweet? Tart? As delicious as your skin smells when I kiss you?’ He slid his finger across her flesh and she shivered, burying her head in his neck once again. ‘Don’t hide from your passion. You’re a beautiful, sensual woman, so wet and ready for my attention.’

  He worked his thumb against her folds and the caress robbed her breath each time he stroked the sensitive peak hidden within. There was something forbidden about the hot press of his finger and the hard, cool slide of his thumb ring against her skin. A shiver of erotic pleasure worked through her and she moaned, biting his neck, licking and sucking, before biting her lip, unsure how much torturous sensation she could bear, yet unwilling to stop. She rocked her hips on his lap and he rubbed deeper, the press of his arousal against her bottom inciting the realization he was as vulnerable as she.

  She held the power to bring him the same paralysing
pleasure. She tried to grasp the thought and hold on to it, prepared to return the delicious gratification he offered when he slid a finger inside her and her mind blanked. The shocking intrusion brought such intense climax, everything went white. All thought dissolved into feeling. She gripped his shoulders, her fingernails biting into his shirt as she embraced the immense pleasure, never wanting the moment to end.

  She stayed against him for several minutes. Bliss hummed inside her body like a swarm of new butterflies, beautiful and rare. She never imagined such sensation existed. Still, the press of his arousal remained tight against her bottom and brought with it the conclusion he suffered without relief. She shifted delicately from his lap to the settee and righted her bodice as best she was able. When he made to assist, she swatted away his hands and stilled him by stroking her palm across the front of his trousers. He groaned. His erection leapt beneath her touch, hard and insistent. She caught his expression, a mixture of surprise and smoldering interest.

  He didn’t say a word and fell back against the cushions, his legs widened to offer her better access, and all the while he watched, his eyes fixed below where she explored.

  Did it feel good? She possessed little finesse, her curiosity on par with a need to bring him release, and though she wondered, she couldn’t ask, the governess soliciting the student for instruction too ironic. He did not complain, his lids lowered in sultry intensity. Her body still tingled from his masterful attention, most especially at her core, and she wanted to give him the same wondrous completion. A strange, bracing silence took hold.

  Dropping his head back, he shifted his hips the slightest, the heat of his cock against her palm thrilling and powerful. She stopped, less than an instant, and moved her fingers to the buttons of his falls. She trembled as she loosened each one, knowing what lay beneath. Anxious and at the same time terrified. She’d never seen a man unclothed though she was not ignorant to the physical differences. But this man, Luke, set her heart into a scattered rhythm whenever he glanced at her. Her thoughts scattered in a million directions, logic surrendering to some kind of need she didn’t know lay in her heart. To touch him so intimately and know his body… she swallowed past her immediate panic.