by Anne Barton
So he slid his hands beneath her bottom and guided her closer, letting her feel his arousal and the perfect fit of their bodies.
With a soft moan, she rubbed against his cock.
All the passion they’d been denying suddenly burst free, their self-control shattering like a dam that had been patched one too many times. She speared her fingers through his damp hair and thrust her tongue between his teeth. He slipped a hand inside her chemise, caressed her breast, and continued to rock against her, driving them both into a breathless, dizzy, desperate frenzy.
Being with her felt so right. Holding her tightly, he walked to the shore and gently lowered her to the quilt. Her chemise was plastered to her legs and torso, and the slight summer breeze made her shiver. Before he could suggest removing the soaked garment, she did it, pulling it over her head in one smooth motion. She tossed it onto the discard pile and leaned back on her elbows with a knowing, wicked smile.
Dear God, he was in trouble.
And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
He didn’t take his eyes off her as he fumbled with the front of his trousers. Her damp hair dark against her shoulder, the flush on her cheeks, the perfect globes of her breasts, and her long, smooth legs made his heart beat out of control. If he lived to be ninety, he’d forever remember the way she looked at him, full of anticipation, trust, and love.
At last he shed his trousers and lay next to her on the quilt. Skin to skin, they explored each other, reveling in each small sigh and moan. She sat astride him and traced the contours of his chest, pausing to lick his nipples like a cat lapping up milk. When she began to trail kisses down his abdomen, he stopped her and rolled her onto her back.
“My turn.” He touched between her legs and parted her slick folds with his fingers, watching her intently to see what pleased her. When she closed her eyes and arched her back, he lowered his head and tasted her, teasing her with his tongue until she came apart and cried out in ecstasy.
While they each caught their breath, they lay side by side on the shore. Just beyond their feet, the water trickled past, lapping softly at the rocks. The sun winked overhead, warming their bodies. It should have been a relaxing, tranquil scene, but James was so aroused that nature’s beauty was quite wasted on him.
“It feels so wicked and wanton to be lying naked out of doors,” Olivia said. “I confess I like it.” She leaned over him and plundered his mouth, letting her bare breasts brush against his chest. As she hungrily kissed him, she reached down and stroked his cock, moaning softly into his mouth as though touching him pleased her as much as it did him.
Which he very much doubted. There was nothing tentative or shy about the way she touched him. Or about the way she did anything.
Olivia had always been the kind of woman who knew what she wanted, and James was very, very lucky that for some unknown reason, she wanted him.
The problem was that if she continued kissing and touching him with such delightful abandon, their lovemaking would be over before it had begun in earnest.
So, he took both of her wrists and with one hand pinned them on the ground above her head. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing evenly for five seconds, hoping to regain some semblance of control.
When he opened his eyes, Olivia shot him a wicked smile. “I haven’t hurt you, have I?”
“No, beautiful. You’ve enchanted me.”
“Well, that was shockingly easy.”
“I mean it, Olivia.”
“I know. I feel the same way. I want to be with you. Right now.”
James’s blood thrummed in his veins and his pulse pounded in his ears. He positioned himself between her legs and kissed the sweet column of her neck as he slowly eased himself into her. She inhaled deeply as her body stretched to accommodate him.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped, hating the thought of hurting her.
“Don’t be.” She cradled his face in her hands. “This is what I’ve wanted, what I’ve dreamed of for so long.”
He didn’t check the raw, powerful, hot desire he felt. Olivia wouldn’t let him, anyway. Seductive, sensual, and sweet—she was his.
He rocked against her, slowly at first, letting her get used to him. But when she thrust her hips and wrapped her legs around him, he let instinct take over. He pumped harder, losing himself in her tight heat, in the sweet smell of her neck, and in the salty taste of her skin.
God, she felt good.
He wished he could have made the moment last all day. Hell, he would have been happy if he’d managed to last more than a few minutes. But he couldn’t. He came fast and hard, saying her name over and over.
She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his shoulder as he caught his breath. In all his life, he’d never been so content. So happy. Though he would have liked to remain just so all day, he realized it might not be the most comfortable position for Olivia. And he could already feel the sun burning his ass.
So he carefully withdrew and propped himself on an elbow beside her.
She looked gorgeous. Her hair was a mass of damp, wild curls and her lips were swollen from their kisses. But there, on her cheek, was the unmistakable, shiny track of a freshly shed tear.
Alarm shot through him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing—that is, I don’t know. I was just overcome by all sorts of feelings.” She swiped at the tear, and James instinctively reached for his handkerchief before recalling that he was, in fact, naked.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“What are you apologizing for?” He got the impression that he’d somehow made things worse.
“For upsetting you. Here, let me get something to cover you.” The quilt wasn’t large enough to wrap around her, so he picked up her dress from the heap of clothes and draped it over her.
Sniffling, she sat up and clutched the gown to her breasts. “Thank you.”
And then, because she was squinting from the sun’s glare, he retrieved her parasol, opened it, and held it out to her.
She looked up at him, blinked, then burst into laughter.
“What?” he asked, glancing from side to side.
“It’s very kind of you”—she hiccupped midlaugh—“but it’s just that I’ve never”—snort—
“Never what?”
She wiped the tears from her eyes. “Seen a naked man hold a lace-edged parasol.”
“Right. Here you go.” He handed her the parasol, thinking it was fortunate that he wasn’t insecure about his body—and how he adored the sound of her laughter.
He grabbed his trousers and wrung them out over the river before putting the clammy, stiff things back on. It was time for Olivia and him to have a serious conversation about their future—a feat that would probably best be accomplished while he wore at least some clothes.
They’d made love, and that changed everything. There could be a babe. And if there was, he shouldn’t be in Egypt when the child was born. Like ancient ruins in a sandstorm, his life’s dream was crumbling.
“Would you like a drink?”
“Maybe in a bit.” She tilted her head. “I realize that I’m the one who’s a watering pot, but it seems like you have something on your mind.”
“I would like to talk. You see, I’ve made a decision about the expedition.”
“Oh?”
“I’m not going.”
Her brows knitted. “Of course you are.”
Why would she contradict him? “No, I’m not. I’m staying here in England, with you.”
“That’s ridiculous, James. This expedition is your dream. You’d be a fool to give up the chance to go.”
He agreed with her on some level. How he wished he didn’t have to choose. “You deserve a husband who’ll stay by your side.”
“Well, naturally, you’d feel obliged to tell me that after we… after we did what we did. You’re being a gentleman.”
“No, damn it. I’m not.”
“You must admit that your timing is suspec
t.”
“Why does the timing matter? I’ve realized my place is with you.”
“Was that before or after I’d removed my gown?”
“After, I think.”
She nodded emphatically as if to say, That’s what I thought.
Olivia inhaled deeply. I’ve realized my place is with you. It wasn’t quite a declaration of love, but it was close. These were the words she’d longed to hear, and yet the timing was all wrong. She’d loved him for ten long, exasperating years. He could have chosen any time during that decade to return her affections. Year seven would have been perfectly acceptable. Or year nine. But it was only after they’d been caught in bed together, forced into an engagement, and made love to each other that his feelings had caught up with hers.
Now, when she’d realized that she didn’t want to be the reason he stayed.
James’s sense of honor was making him do this. If he knew how much she’d miss him or how worried she’d be for his safety, he’d give up his spot on the expedition. He’d stoically set aside his own ambitions and remain at her side—for her sake. He’d say that he didn’t care about the expedition, that she had saved him from two years of bad food and primitive living conditions.
So, if she truly wanted him to go to Egypt, she had to convince him that she was indifferent, when she was anything but.
She focused on the task at hand and tried not to look directly at James’s bare chest, because that had the same effect on her decision-making abilities as gulping down three glasses of wine. She also endeavored to ignore the fact that she was naked. The way James’s sultry gaze roved over her arms and legs suggested that he was having difficulty ignoring her lack of clothing as well. She felt a flush creep up her neck. As he stroked the back of her hand, her whole arm tingled.
“I thought this was what you wanted.”
She shrugged. “I think I’ve grown up in the last couple of weeks. I’ve learned that I can’t tie up all my hopes and dreams in one person. I need to rely on myself and be comfortable in my own skin.”
A small, wicked smile lit his face. “I love the way you look in your own skin.”
Heavens. Was he listening to her at all?
“I won’t pretend I don’t care for you,” she said, “because I do. I just think that, given the way we became engaged, it might actually be a good thing for us to spend some time apart. You could go on your expedition and explore to your heart’s content. I could spend some time with my family and get to know yours. We’ll both have time to adjust to the idea of being married. After all, we’ll be spending the rest of our lives together.”
“You need time to adjust?”
“Naturally. I’ve never had a husband before.”
“I’ve never had a wife before either. But I think we’ll be good together.”
A lump the size of one of James’s blasted stones settled in her throat, and her eyes began to burn. This is the time to be strong, Olivia. Strong and convincing. She pulled her hand away. “I would have never guessed you were so sentimental, James. You know, one of the things I’ve always admired about you is your analytical, logical nature.”
“I thought it infuriated you.”
“Perhaps it frustrated me, occasionally, but I respect the way you make decisions so thoughtfully, without giving in to emotions or impulse.”
“But you’re one of the most impulsive people I know.”
“Precisely! That’s why I require a husband who is steady, one who stays the course.”
“What are you trying to say, Olivia?”
“That you’ve been planning this trip to Egypt for months—nay, years—and you shouldn’t let an impromptu wedding affect those plans. Go on your expedition. Explore like you’ve always wanted.”
He stared at her as though he couldn’t believe his ears. “There could be a babe.”
Dear Lord, she’d forgotten about that. She did some quick calculations. “I don’t think so.” She kept her voice light. “But I’ll know for certain within the week.”
“I see.” He raked his fingers through his hair and clasped his hands behind his neck. Olivia had to look away because the sight of his flexed arms was making her light-headed. “If you were with child,” he said, “I’d never leave you.”
Sweet. Except she supposed that implied the opposite: that if she wasn’t pregnant, he would leave. “All I’m suggesting is that while we may not have had a choice in getting engaged, we do when it comes to the rest of our lives.”
“You are correct. It is up to us.” His green eyes simmered as he pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “I know what I’d like to do right this minute.”
She swallowed. He might not love her with the same ferocity that she loved him, but there was no denying the heat between them. The hungry, yet surprisingly tender, look on his face melted her like so much chocolate. “What might that be?”
Slowly, he peeled her dress away from her body. As his gaze roved over her, he drew in a breath. “I confess I want to do all sorts of wicked things with you. But first, I thought you might like another dip in the river to cool off, followed by lunch. What do you say?”
His smile made her whole body thrum, and when his eyes strayed to her breasts and lower, she felt like a ripe peach that he was about to pluck from a tree. “That sounds… heavenly.”
He scooped her up easily and carried her back into the river, where the water tickled first her toes, and then her bottom, and then her breasts. She straddled him and traced the line of his jaw, reveling in the rough feel of his stubble beneath her fingertip. He kissed her sweetly and ran his big hands over her back as the cool, gentle current soothed the slight soreness between her legs. An insistent pulsing began there, and she pulled him closer, clawing at his back and tugging on his hair.
“Jesus, Olivia.” He bent his head, drew her nipple into his mouth, and suckled her till she was writhing from the sheer pleasure of it. And when he slipped his hand between them and touched her, she was lost.
“I want you,” she breathed. “Please.” She rubbed herself against him, pleased to find him aroused, for in spite of her bravado, she really had very little idea of how these things worked. She did know, however, that his trousers presented an impediment and set about rectifying that small matter. She tugged on the front of them until something gave, and James laughed into her mouth—a sound so delicious she wanted to eat him up.
“I think you just fed one of my buttons to the fishes.”
“Shhh. I don’t want to think about the fishes right now. Just help me.”
His eyelids were heavy and his smile knee-melting as he obliged her, unbuttoning the placket at the front of his trousers until she could finally hold his shaft, smooth and oh so rigid against his belly.
“Can we do it like this?”
He muttered something that might have been a curse, a prayer of thanks, or both. “We can. Are you sure you’re ready, so soon after we…?”
Dear God, she was ready. She may not be able to tell him that she still loved him desperately or that she hated the thought of spending the first two years of her marriage without him beside her. But she could love him with her body. She could create a memory that they’d both tuck away and save for the nights when a thousand miles separated them. “I’m ready.”
His hand on her hip, he guided her lower, until he was poised to enter her. “We’ll take it slowly this time.”
She may have pouted in response, because he chuckled and said, “Trust me.”
She should have known she could trust him.
He filled her, then let her take the lead, setting the pace and rhythm. The sun shone on their heads and the water kissed their skin as she moved on top of him, pushing up, then taking him deeper, over and over until her legs were locked around him and she was whimpering for the same kind of release she’d had before.
“Easy, love.” Squeezing her bottom in both hands, he thrust fast and hard, increasing the friction between them until the sweet pulsing
was shooting through her limbs and thundering in her ears. Being with James was nothing like she’d imagined. Because never in her life could she have imagined something so raw and powerful and wonderful. She arched her back and cried out as she surrendered to the rush that overcame her, pleasure pounding through her bones before slowly fading into something quiet and healing.
His handsome face creased with concentration, James touched his forehead to hers. Breathlessly, he said, “Hold on.”
Olivia rallied what little strength she had left, and when he began to move inside her again, he met her thrust for thrust. She drew his lower lip into her mouth and raked her fingers over his chest and down his abdomen. He gasped, and every muscle in his body tensed as he called out her name—and came inside her, again.
Chapter Twenty-Two
An hour later, James and Olivia dozed, stark naked, beneath the shade of a large oak. He had moved the blanket there, wrung out their clothes, and left them in the sun to dry. They’d sipped wine from tin cups and devoured the bread and cheese they’d brought, along with a couple of juicy apples.
Sated and full, they’d lain on their backs and stared at the green canopy above them. James laced his fingers through hers, kissed the back of her hand, and pressed it to his chest, then drifted off to sleep.
Olivia must have done the same.
When she awoke, he was dressed and packing his tools in his bag. Her hair was matted to the side of her face and she feared she’d drooled a little on the quilt. Suddenly self-conscious, she sat up and drew her knees to her chest.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he said, without the slightest hint of irony. How she loved him for that.
“It’s the afternoon. And I’m sure I look like a hoyden.”
“An adorable hoyden.” He picked up her chemise, snapped it in the air to rid it of grass and pollen, and tossed it to her.
She quickly slid it over her head, sighing as the sun-soaked linen warmed her skin. While James retrieved the rest of her clothes, she raked her fingers through her tangled curls. It would be a miracle if she could coax them into any semblance of a respectable knot, but it was difficult to care. Especially when the afternoon had been so lovely and so… enlightening.