Moving his hands to encircle her waist, Simon slowly slid his way up Rose’s ribcage, taking the edge of her shirt with him. He continued to pepper any newly exposed skin with kisses, exalting over her smooth, flat stomach and nuzzling the shallow indention under her ribs.
Already Simon could tell Rose was again enjoying herself, for she was making the most adorable and enticing mewling noises and her hips were writhing instinctively against his abdomen. Taking a deep breath in an effort to control his own overwhelming desire, Simon lifted her shirt even farther up to reveal two of the most beautiful breasts he had ever had the privilege to see. Already rock hard, he became even more painfully so at the sight of her rosy tipped mounds and he reached for them almost reverently.
Just before he laid his hands on them, Simon glanced up to find Rose watching his movements as though mesmerized. Realizing he now had an entranced audience, Simon moved with deliberation and purpose. First he took both breasts in his hands and squeezed them gently. He was immensely gratified by Rose’s gasp of surprise and delight the moment his palms grazed her bosoms.
…
When Simon moved one hand to play with her nipple, Rose thought she had gone to heaven. The pleasure was so intense and seemed—however illogically—to center directly between her legs. Then Simon began to twirl the tip between his thumb and forefinger and Rose watched with amazement as the rosy nub tightened and hardened.
And then Simon did something completely unexpected. He leaned down slowly and flicked his tongue out to lick the hardened tip.
“Simon! You can’t—” Rose cried out in shock. But clearly he could and he further stunned her by then taking the entire nipple into his mouth and sucking and nibbling the tip lovingly.
Rose lost all power of speech with each new move Simon’s mouth made. Something inside her coiled tighter and tighter and when he lightly scraped the very tip of her nipple with his teeth, Rose bucked off the bed as something burst deep inside her.
“Oh my good—!” The rest of what she was going to say was swallowed by Simon when he quickly covered her mouth with his.
…
Simon would never have believed it possible, but Rose had found release simply from him making love to her breasts. At this rate she was going to wake the entire household before they ever got to the actual sex act.
“God, Rose. You are so damned responsive,” Simon growled, once he lifted his mouth from Rose’s. “I can’t wait to see how you react to the rest of what I have planned for you.”
Rose was lying there limp and looked extremely satisfied, but her eyes widened when he said that. “More?” she squeaked.
“Oh, yes, sweetling,” Simon replied silkily, “there is much, much more.” And Simon aimed to prove it to her.
Deciding there had been more than enough foreplay, as evidenced by her release and his extreme lack of one, Simon dispensed with the rest of his clothing and quickly removed the shirt still bunched up round Rose’s neck.
…
When he finally lay naked at her side, Rose reveled in the feeling of his skin on hers. She was also more than a little curious about the very evident proof of his arousal pressing insistently against her thigh.
Craning her neck slightly, Rose tried to catch a glimpse of Simon’s lower regions, but she was unable to see much before he captured her lips with his and began kissing her passionately. Soon, she forgot what she was even looking for as she began to feel a now familiar loss of inhibitions.
Rose could not get enough of Simon. His kisses, his touch, his unintelligible sweet nothings being whispered against her lips, eyes, ears, and everywhere else his mouth went. And his lips and hands seemed to be everywhere. Not one area of her body had gone unexplored by him.
Well, maybe one…Rose had noticed that since her earlier attack of nerves, when Simon barely brushed up against her, he had not yet ventured back to her now wet and pulsating core; and now, frankly, all apprehension regarding that region had fled and Rose thought if he didn’t touch her there soon she might scream with frustration.
As if reading her mind, Simon finally reached between her legs and nudged her thighs apart. With curious fingers, he began to explore beneath her small patch of curls and Rose nearly came apart.
“Ohhhh, Simon…” she moaned, arching up to meet his hand eagerly.
…
Simon would have chuckled at her enthusiasm, but he was so eager himself, he almost came right then and there. Positioning himself above her, he slowly pushed into her hot, moist core. It felt as if she were swallowing him whole and it took everything in him not to drive the rest of the way in and keep thrusting until they both exploded. Never before had making love with a woman felt so good, so right. But it was imperative that he did not rush this.
“Simon,” Rose said cautiously. “Are you all right?”
He looked at her with a strained and somewhat surprised expression. “Why wouldn’t I be all right, Rose?” he asked tightly, pushing forward a bit more. He could now feel the undeniable evidence of her innocence and more than anything he wanted to lessen any discomfort she may feel as much as possible, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back before burying himself completely inside her.
“You look as if you are in pain,” Rose replied anxiously. “Is there anything I can do?”
Simon rolled his eyes. Leave it to Rose to try and analyze the situation. “No, love. I will be fine in just a moment.”
Apparently Rose wasn’t willing to let it drop. “Perhaps if you just relaxed a little bit?” She reached up and began massaging his arms and shoulders.
Simon had to laugh at that. “I will not be able to relax until I am sure I will not hurt you any more than is necessary.”
“You couldn’t possibly hurt me,” Rose replied indignantly.
“Yes, Rose, I could…and I probably will. I have reached your maidenhead, and I am told that it can hurt the first time it is breached. However, it will only be this first time.”
Rose appeared to think about that for a moment and then she took one more look at Simon. With her mind apparently made up, Rose closed her eyes and scrunched up her face as if bracing for the worst pain ever. “All right, I’m ready,” she announced.
Simon looked at her with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. Never before had he had such a conversation with a woman and certainly not while making love.
But still, his arms were getting tired and she felt so damned good, so Simon took a deep breath and quickly plunged the rest of the way inside. Once he was completely within her, Simon was nearly delirious with relief and pleasure. They fit together like a hand in a glove and he knew that he was completely ruined. No other woman would ever compare to the woman cradling him at this very moment.
“Oh, Simon.” Rose sighed.
Propping himself up on his elbows, Simon smiled at Rose. “Was that too terrible?” he said teasingly.
“No, it wasn’t terrible at all. Just a little pinch, really.”
“So, if I do this”—Simon moved around a little—“it doesn’t bother you?”
“No-o-o,” Rose moaned.
Even if Rose hadn’t answered him aloud, Simon would have known the answer. Between her smile and the way her hips instinctively pressed up against his, it was clear whatever pain she had experienced had already faded.
Thank the Lord. The urge to move had been driving him crazy the entire time they were whispering to each other. Leaning down to deliver a tender, loving kiss, Simon finally gave in to temptation and began to slowly move within her. When Rose mimicked his movements with her own hips, Simon groaned in ecstasy and his actions became less controlled and much more frenetic and feverish.
Seconds later Rose was flying over the edge again and if Simon hadn’t anticipated her scream of pleasure and covered her mouth with his, she surely would have awakened the entire Mayfair neighborhood with her cry.
The relentless clenching of Rose’s inner muscles was all it took to bring on Simon’s
own powerful release. He buried his face in Rose’s shoulder as he growled out his own pleasure. The orgasm was the longest and most intense he had ever experienced and he could scarcely believe it was really happening—and more importantly, that it was happening with the woman he was supposed to marry.
“God, I love our parents,” Simon said, once he regained the ability to speak.
“Pardon me?” Rose said, with more than a little astonishment.
“Oh, I will be forever grateful that our parents had the foresight to insist we marry. I must have done something really right in my life to be allowed to do this with you whenever I want. Once we, er, wed of course.” He kicked himself mentally. He was letting their obvious chemistry muddle his intentions.
Rose giggled. “So, love-making isn’t always quite this…er…” she trailed off, clearly unable to find the words to describe this momentous occasion.
“No, this was definitely much more than one would, ah, normally expect.”
“Oh…good,” Rose said, seeming quite pleased by his statement.
Who would have thought the shy, bookish, red-headed, bespectacled girl would turn out to be the amazing, brilliant, enticing woman with whom he was currently sharing a bed? If he had known, Simon would have bedded her years ago! So much for getting her out of my system.
“I am such an idiot, Rose,” Simon moaned, dropping his forehead to rest against hers.
“No you’re not,” Rose replied loyally.
“Oh, but I am. I let my own stubborn pride get in the way of seeing you for the truly incredible woman you are. Can you ever forgive me?”
Rose cocked her head as if thinking about it. “I think I can find it in my heart to do so, yes,” she said finally, her eyes shining.
Unable to wipe the grin off his face, Simon replied, “It dawns on me that it is going to be morning soon and it would probably not do for me to be found here…like this…with you.” He flashed a devilish wink.
Rose sighed. “I suppose you are correct.”
“Don’t worry, darling,” Simon assured her as he rolled reluctantly away, pulling her into his arms for one last hug. “I will see you later today. We have much to discuss. Perhaps we should just meet at tonight’s ball. I think we both need some sleep.”
…
Rose nodded morosely and wished that what they needed to discuss was more matrimonial in nature and not just about Caleb. However, beggars could not be choosers and she was happy that Simon was finally seeing the advantages of a future with her. And now it clearly sounded like he was at least planning to marry her…someday.
Simon got up and began gathering his clothes. Rose sat in bed wrapped up in a blanket and watched him get ready to depart. It was fascinating to see him unabashedly walk around her room without a stitch of clothing on. She would never look at her room the same way again. In every corner she would remember Simon in some way, shape, or delightfully naked form.
When he was dressed, Simon went to Rose and tenderly kissed her good-bye. “I will see you in a few hours at the Abingdon ball.”
“All right,” she whispered, her lips still tingling from the sweet kiss. And that was when she knew…she could love Simon Trumbull if he would just give her the chance.
Chapter Sixteen
Great minds think alike.
—The Duke of Lancaster
Simon waited for Rose anxiously in the Abingdon ballroom. The feelings Rose evoked in him the previous night scared the hell out of him. Never in his wildest dreams did he think making love to Rose would be so exciting, so exhilarating. Even now, when he knew he should stay away from her, he was wondering when he would have another chance to kiss her, to hold her, to—
Simon shook his head again. He really needed to get a hold of himself. This was Rose, for God’s sake, not some tavern wench.
But he knew that. And that was probably what scared him the most… His passions aside, Simon was feeling something else, something stronger, something that could very well be…the beginnings of affection.
That was when he saw her. She looked beautiful as she walked over and laid her hand warmly on his arm and Simon thought perhaps it was time to reevaluate his priorities. Never in his wildest dreams did he think he would want Rose—as a wife, as a lover, or even as a friend—but the last few weeks had proven to him that anything was possible.
Maybe it was time he opened his mind—and heart—to all the myriad possibilities—even those that may coincide with his parents’ wishes.
Oh, God…they are going to adore this, Simon thought with a strangled laugh, because now he was going to have to marry her—not want to, not need to, not even contracted to—no, he had to marry her. His very happiness depended upon it.
Simon looked up at Rose in amazement. She was looking back at him with a shy smile.
“Good evening, Rose.” Simon said.
“How are you this evening?” Rose replied.
“I am well…very well, now,” Simon replied warmly. “And you?”
Rose giggled. “I am very well…now…too.”
Simon chuckled. This was the most inane conversation he had ever had with Rose and yet he didn’t even care.
“You look lovely tonight. I must say, I particularly like your hair this way. It really is such an attractive color. So warm and vibrant. I always feel it’s a shame when you hide it away in the tight little buns.” Simon reached up to finger a silky crimson lock. Rose tilted her head to give Simon more access, and he obliged the action by pushing his hand deeper into her hair and cupping her head with his hand.
“Ah,” Rose began, clearly finding it difficult to concentrate with Simon’s hand in her hair, “I don’t believe everyone would agree with your assessment of the, um, color…”
“Those people are complete featherheads, then,” Simon whispered, before reaching up to cup Rose’s face in both hands and leaning in to drop the lightest, sweetest kiss on her lips.
Rose sighed against his mouth and when Simon lifted his head and saw a look of pure bliss and contentment on her face, more than anything Simon wanted to freeze that moment, call in a portrait artist, and have him capture that sight for all time.
When her lashes finally fluttered open, she blushed warmly. “You are probably the only one who thinks my hair color the least bit attractive. Most of the ton thinks red the most unfortunate shade. And I’m pretty sure there are very few featherheads among them.”
Simon slowly let his hands drift down through her long soft hair before lowering them even farther to hold her hands. “Most of the ton wouldn’t know true beauty if it jumped up and bit them,” he replied.
“Hmmm,” Rose teased. “Would true beauty jump up and bite someone, I wonder? Seems in direct contradiction to what one might expect from beauty.”
Simon gave Rose an arch look. “Cute.”
To which she giggled, “No, I don’t think cute would bite anyone either.”
“Oh Rose, I love you, I really do,” Simon said with a chuckle. Then he heard the faint strains of a waltz beginning to play. “Come, let us dance.”
Simon was very aware of what he had said, and while he hadn’t particularly intended to say it right there in the middle of the crowded Abingdon ballroom, he was rather relieved that it was finally out there. It felt as if he had been holding those words in forever.
However, judging from the positively staggering reaction from Rose, he thought he may need to elaborate somewhat on the unexpected sentiment and the waltz seemed the perfect opportunity to hold her throughout what he hoped would be an intimate and revealing conversation.
Honestly, he didn’t think he could tell her his innermost thoughts without touching her in some way, and the kiss he gave her in full view of the party guests was already considered scandalous enough. So, Simon waited for the dance to begin. Once he was sure everyone else on the floor was involved with their own partners, he turned his attentions full force to the woman in his arms.
Rose’s body apparently knew how to d
ance the waltz without any conscious effort on her part—which he supposed said something about the excellence of her lessons—because she clearly was not focused on the task at hand. Her eyes were cloudy and distant, her forehead was wrinkled in either thought or confusion (or more likely both), and her movement was not being executed with her usual grace.
If Simon wasn’t so concerned about the eventual outcome of their discussion, he would have found her reaction humorous. As it was, he just wanted to hear how she felt about what he said and more importantly how she felt about him.
Simon cleared his throat in an attempt to gain Rose’s attention. When she looked at him—rather absently, he noted—he said, “Allow me to apologize for saying what I did—”
Rose blanched when she heard his apology and Simon quickly realized she thought he was going to take back his words. “No, no, sweetling…I do love you. Let me say that again, so that you don’t misunderstand me…I love you, Rose Warren, more than I ever thought possible.”
Rose still looked a little off, so he explained further, “What I was trying to say was that I hadn’t intended on telling you how I felt here, in the middle of the Abingdon ballroom. That is all.”
“You l-l-love me?” she said, with the barest of sobs sounding in her voice and appearing to gather force.
Simon immediately decided revealing his feelings on the ballroom floor had been a bad idea. He never expected her to cry. He rather thought she would be happy that he loved her. Hell, he rather hoped that she loved him in return.
“Oh, Rose, please don’t cry. I didn’t think telling you how I felt would make you unhappy.”
That only made Rose cry harder and Simon could no longer continue to dance pretending there was nothing wrong. So he scooped Rose up into his arms and, amid a cacophony of gasps, he carried her off of the dance floor in the direction of the nearest exit.
Hot on his heels were Rose’s friends…all of them. And apparently one or two of his.
Romancing His English Rose (Entangled Scandalous) Page 13