A sheet of paper fell from the desk and fluttered to the Oriental carpet. She looked up to see that Brandon had stopped studying his papers and was watching her.
Warmth rushed over her skin—a heightened awareness that she’d felt before when she’d caught him openly studying her. She felt her pulse beat in her throat and a sweeping pull in her stomach.
Her grip tightened on her brush, and her hand cramped painfully. The brush dropped to the palette with a thud.
His gaze lowered to where she clasped her hand and his brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“A cramp,” she said, opening her right hand and stretching her fingers. “Sometimes when I paint for hours, the muscles in my hand twist and tighten. It’s nothing to be concerned about. It will pass. Father used to stretch his hands and ice them after a long day.”
He pushed back his chair and approached. “Give me your hand.”
She shook her head. “It’s fine.”
“Let me try something,” he insisted.
She stiffened as he took her hand in his. The feel of his strong fingers holding her hand made her pulse skitter as he ran his thumb deliciously up and down her palm. The pressure was light at first, then firmer as he kneaded the soft flesh and relaxed the cramped muscles.
She sighed at the blissful relief. He explored the soft lines of her hand—his touch innocent and intimate at once.
“Ice would be helpful, but a massage is best to ease a spasm,” he said.
No one had ever taken such care of her. The smooth bold strokes of his thumb were a purely sensual experience. The heat of his touch sank into her skin. She longed to lean into him and rest her head on his shoulder, to absorb his strength, and have his masculine scent coil around her.
If the touch of his fingers on her palm felt so good, what would it feel like to have him massage her shoulders, her neck, or—heaven forbid—elsewhere?
The erotic image made her cheeks grow warm. She needed to reach deep and summon her resistance, to battle the drowning attraction she felt for him.
“I can feel the muscles relaxing,” he said.
“Thank you. My hand feels much better now.” She attempted to pull her hand from his, but he resisted. His fingers twined with hers and held her close.
“Amelia,” he said hoarsely.
She tingled all over as he said her name. Her gaze met his, and his eyes shone with desire and the promise of pleasure. The tight muscles in her hand had eased, only to have the muscles throughout her body taut and aching, fighting to maintain a semblance of self-control.
He wasn’t for her, couldn’t be for her. His title and situation demanded he look elsewhere.
“I know what you’re thinking. You suspect I plan to pursue Lady Minerva after her musical ensemble, but you’re mistaken. The thought of spending a lifetime shackled to her fills me with dread. I’ll find another way out of my debt. I know I can make the mill a success. And I’ll do it without any lady’s dowry,” he insisted.
Her breath caught at his admission and the firm determination in his voice. She felt a thrill of satisfaction that he didn’t want Lady Minerva. She knew it was an unwise emotion. She had no right to him, either. If the duke’s daughter didn’t appeal to him, he could easily find another heiress in London. One he was attracted to.
Myriad confused thoughts tumbled in her mind. Uncomfortable with her emotions, she turned back to the unfinished portrait to avoid his eye.
“No more work. Not tonight,” he said softly.
He studied her face unhurriedly, feature by feature. “I’ve never told anyone the extent of my burdens. Not even Huntingdon. I seem to break all the rules with you.”
She stared up at him, a little breathless. “All of them?”
“I’m about to break another one.”
“Which one?”
He pulled her into his arms and drew her body flush against his solid, muscular chest. “My vow not to seduce you.”
Chapter Fifteen
Brandon’s mouth swooped down to covers Amelia’s so hungrily, her will dissolved beneath his urgent kiss. She opened to him like a delicate flower unfurling beneath the sunlight. Her lips eagerly parted and his tongue swept inside, exploring deep. She met him equally, pressing her open mouth against his. A groan of male satisfaction tore from his throat as she leaned into his embrace and pressed closer.
Lifting his head, he traced a sensuous path down her neck to the sensitive lobe of her ear. His hot breath lingered, and she shivered in anticipation until he sucked the delicate shell into his mouth. Amelia’s breath caught at the heady sensations that coursed through her.
She grasped his shoulders, his muscles hard slabs beneath his shirt. Succumbing to an overwhelming impulse to touch him elsewhere, her fingers grazed over the tightly coiled power in his arms. Her roaming hands moved to his chest, and she reveled in the strength and warmth of his flesh and the pounding of his heart through the linen fabric. A sense of urgency pierced her haze of desire. She turned her mouth to his, desperately seeking his kiss. She heard rapid breathing and was surprised to realize it was her own. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she sank her fingers into his hair.
He groaned. His mouth possessed her deeply, and he pulled her close. Her heart fluttered wildly and pumped blood fiercely through her veins. She arched toward him, wanting to feel more of his heat and strength. She was vaguely aware of his hands caressing their way up her back and his nimble fingers working the hooks of her gown. The top hook came undone. Any thought of protest melted beneath the onslaught of his passionate kisses. Another two hooks followed. The satin bodice gaped, and her breasts swelled above her chemise.
He lifted his head to gaze at his handiwork. One finger traced the edge of her chemise and followed the tiny row of embroidered rosebuds on the edge. Her nipples tightened into hard peaks beneath the fine muslin.
He paused, his eyes seeking hers, and she inhaled at the raw desire written there. “Your breasts are beautiful. Full, soft, and pale in the moonlight. I’ve dreamed of them. Of touching them. Tasting them.”
His dark head lowered, and he pressed hot kisses to her left breast, then to the other. Deep spirals of pleasure made her gasp, and his fingers continued to work at her gown. More hooks followed and with a tug, the top half of her gown slid across her shoulders and down her arms to her waist. Her breathing became labored in her laced corset.
He cupped her breasts and pressed them together through the fabric of her chemise. She whimpered at the stroke of his thumbs across her sensitive nipples. Then he lowered his head an inch farther to lick and suck the tip of her breast in his hot mouth. Molten fire ran from the tip of her captured breast and plunged downward into her belly. The pleasure moved even lower to a pulsing need between her legs, and her knees weakened.
“Look at yourself. Do you see how beautiful you are?” he rasped.
Unable to resist, she glanced down. Her hardened nipples were visible through the wet chemise—molded to the fine muslin like second skin. The image should be shocking. Instead it heightened her arousal to a fevered pitch.
He made quick work of the rest of the fastenings, and her gown slid down to pool at her feet. He untied the corset laces and it soon followed. She stepped out of the mound of clothing and turned to face him dressed only in her shift, stockings, and garters.
He gazed at her with fierce hunger, then recaptured her mouth for a searing kiss. She was aware of his pulsing hardness against her stomach, and she wanted to see him, to touch him the way he’d explored her. She reached down and cupped him, then traced his length with her fingers.
Sweet Lord.
She never imaged he could grow so large. She felt the pulsing heat through the fall of his trousers. Her grasp instinctively tightened.
He jerked and ground his pelvis into her palm. She experienced a thrill of female satisfaction that she could affect him this way. Her fingers stroked, up and down, and he closed his eyes and groaned low in his throat. She watched in fascina
tion and wondered what it would feel like to have him inside her, filling her. She knew what transpired between a man and a woman, but she hadn’t wanted it, hadn’t craved it until now. She lowered her lids and memorized the feel of his shape and size.
He placed his hand over hers, arresting her movements, and his hot breath brushed her temple. “Stop. It’s too easy for me…to lose control with you,” he groaned, his jaw clenched tight.
She didn’t want to stop. She longed to see and feel him without the barrier of clothing.
He cupped her face in his hands. “I thought kisses would be enough. But the feel of you…the taste. It’s intoxicating.”
She felt the throb of her pulse in her throat. “I don’t want to stop,” she whispered.
“Christ. Huntingdon would kill me,” he muttered.
Huntingdon? He was worried about her brother-in-law? Amelia could hardly think through the haze of passion. The ache between her thighs was begging for a release that she instinctively knew only he could give her. She was wildly curious and wanted to remove his shirt, to run her hands up and down his powerful arms and chest, to memorize him by sight and touch so she could capture his naked glory on paper in the privacy of her own chamber.
“You have to go before I lose all control and ravage you on my desk.”
Her breath caught at the darkness in his voice and the image his erotic words evoked. Could a man and woman make love on a desk?
The thought should have frightened her. Instead the scandalous image aroused her.
Marriage to Brandon might be impossible, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t experience him. She knew with certainty that she would compare any man in her future with Brandon and they would fall short. Days remained of the house party. Did she want to waste their remaining time together or seize the moment?
Taking a deep breath, she looked into his eyes. “What if I told you I want this? I want to be with you. Here. Tonight.”
“No. You don’t know what you’re saying.” His voice was gruff.
“I do.”
“I can give you pleasure. Delicious pleasure without risk. Do you trust me?” he asked hoarsely.
Her heart beat wildly. Desire caressed every inch of her skin and left her body crying out for his touch. She did trust him. He’d opened up to her tonight, and she saw through the surface to the real man. He was no longer just a handsome earl, but an honorable man who felt great responsibility for all those who depended on him.
“Yes,” she said. “I trust you.”
Satisfaction glinted in his green gaze. One hand gripped her buttocks, lifting her to the tips of her toes and pressing her flush against him. She felt his hardness against her stomach, shocking and arousing at once. He took two steps to his desk and she felt his every move pressed against him. Liquid warmth heated her thighs and settled deep between her legs. All the while he kissed her leisurely. With an outstretched hand, he cleared the surface of the desk, a stack of paper falling to the carpet with a thud. He placed her bottom on the desk, nudging her legs apart with his thigh and stepping between her skirts.
Lifting the hem of her chemise, he trailed his fingers up her silk stocking and halted at the lace of her garter. Her muscles tightened in anticipation as his hand skimmed the back of her knee and moved up her thigh. She squirmed as his fingers brushed the tight curls between her legs.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” he murmured against her throat.
A quiver of anticipation surged through her veins. Every nerve ending was focused on the tip of his finger as he gently circled her woman’s flesh. He knew just where to apply pressure, just how long to pause, before rubbing against the aching sensitive spot between her legs. Then he began to pump in and out of her body at a delicious leisurely pace until she was gasping and arching in need to meet his skillful fingers.
“Just one taste,” he murmured against her lips.
She puzzled at his meaning until he dropped to his knees and his head lowered between her legs. She stiffened as she felt his hot breath at her moist center. Clutching his hair in confusion, she gasped. “Brandon?”
He began to kiss her. Firm hands clutched her thighs, his fingers opening her legs to his lips and tongue. She was shocked. But when his tongue sought the sensitive bud at the apex of her sex, her inhibitions melted away in a haze of pleasure so intense it stole her breath. It was erotic, lustful…sinful. He worked his magic until her head fell back, her eyelids closed, and her lips parted as her body exploded into a shuddering bliss.
She opened her eyes to find him watching her with a mix of male satisfaction and a hunger so fierce it made her entire body tense.
“I’ve never seen any woman as beautiful in passion.”
What she’d experienced was cataclysmic. She didn’t want to think of any other woman sharing that with him.
She looked at him through heavily lidded eyes. He was fully clothed and she was spread across his desk with her chemise bunched to her waist and wearing only her silk stockings. She raised herself up on elbows, and her gaze roved his body to rest on the prominent bulge in his trousers.
“What about your needs?” she whispered.
“Tonight isn’t about me. I’ve already been greedy.”
She frowned up at him. He was thinking of his promise to keep her virtue intact. He was being honorable. But it had already gone too far. She’d been exposed to him, not only every inch of her body, but deeper in her soul. He’d awakened her, and she’d never be the same again. He was not only a man she was wildly attracted to but a man she admired and who tugged at her heart.
“I know there’s more between a man and a woman. I want to experience everything,” she said.
His expression was fierce. “You’re innocent. You deserve a wedding ring and a soft bed. I won’t take that from you or your future husband.”
“Marriage never concerned me. I’m an artist. We’re known to be impulsive. And I refuse to live a life without color. I want to experience you.”
…
Amelia reached for the fall of Brandon’s trousers, and he was helpless to stop her. His body tightened in anticipation as she undid the closures and her fingers slipped inside to slide along his engorged cock. Lust ripped through him with the force of a shot.
Sweet Jesus. His hips jerked, and he clenched his teeth. Her tentative exploration would drive him wild.
“You’re so much bigger than I’d imagined.”
“It’s because of you,” he ground out.
“Tell me what to do.”
Reaching down he showed her how to hold him. When her fingers brushed the tip of his engorged head, he swelled even further. She was a fast learner and her fingers gripped him tight and her hand pumped up and down. He was burning with desire, his chest heaving and straining. The sight of her small fist wrapped around his swollen cock threatened to push him over the edge.
“Stop. I can’t take much more.” His body craved release and possession. A dangerous combination. He wanted to take her. To thrust deep and possess her.
She looked into his eyes. “I want this.” Reaching up she lifted her chemise over her head and let it fall to the floor. He stared at her as she sat on his desk without a stitch of clothing except for her stockings and garters. The pins in her hair had loosened and long auburn hair cascaded across her shoulders and trailed down her pale breasts. It was the most erotic image he’d ever seen.
Savage hunger rose and flared in him. Only a thread of control kept him in check. She was innocent, a virgin.
“Are you sure, Amelia? There’s no going back,” he said.
Clear blue eyes met his, and she smiled seductively. “Yes.”
Good God, she was made for love. She tugged his shirt from the waistband of his trousers, and he helped her lift it over his head. Her palms ran across his shoulders, then her fingers trailed the line of hair down his chest and dipped beneath his waistband.
Her gaze met his. “Take off your clothes.”
He was happy to o
blige her. He kicked off his boots and slid out of his trousers and stood naked before her. “Last chance.” His voice was hoarse.
She gave him a knowing smile, then reached for him. It was all the encouragement he needed. He stepped between her legs and spread her thighs, pulling her close and pressing his hardness against her heat. She was wet and his muscles tightened to keep his control. He needed this to be good for her.
“This position will allow you to pull back if there’s pain.”
He slid the tip of his engorged cock inside her, and grit his teeth at the slick heat of her body. From this angle they could both watch as he entered her body. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulder. He eased in another inch. She looked at him with big blue eyes full of trust. His chest tightened with emotion as his body craved complete possession. He entered her slowly until he felt a barrier.
“I’m sorry,” he moaned against her throat a moment before he thrust deep and embedded himself to the hilt. She cried out.
He stilled. “Are you all right?”
She managed a weak nod.
She was so incredibly tight and wet. He’d never felt anything so good. “I have to move, love.” He began to move, thrusting in and out. He reached between their bodies and found the sensitive bud between the crest of her sex. She arched her hips, seeking more. Intense pleasure built at the base of his spine. He tried to hold off, tried to make it last, but the need was consuming. He plunged deep, and a moan of ecstasy slipped through her lips as she threw her head back and reached her climax. With a hoarse groan he pulled free from her body, and his hot seed spurt across her soft belly.
He stood panting above her, gasping for breath. Never in his life had he experienced such intense sexual satisfaction.
She slowly opened her eyes, stared into his soul, and smiled.
He felt it again—an uncomfortable tug in the center of his chest. He kissed her, long and deep. Helping her rise, he fetched a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and cleaned from her the evidence of their lovemaking.
She turned to look at the mantle clock. “I must return to my chamber.”
Real Earls Break the Rules (Infamous Somertons) Page 12