“Don’t worry,” he said, his breath warm against her throat.
She knew she should put a stop to this. What if someone came looking for them? It seemed, however, that she was powerless under his touch.
He reached the slit of her undergarment and she stiffened with embarrassment when his fingers found her damp curls. She buried her head against his shoulder and let out a gasp when he slid one finger inside her.
“Richard,” she said, his name a moan. He froze and she lifted her head to meet his gaze. There was a silent question in his eyes. She knew that he would stop if she asked him to, but she also knew that was the last thing she wanted. “Don’t stop.”
She dragged his head down so that she could kiss him, and this time it was his turn to groan. He started to move again, sliding a finger in and out of her while using his thumb to stroke her in a place that was almost unbearably tender. It wasn’t long before she had to tear her mouth from his. She was finding it almost impossible to drag enough air into her lungs. Afraid she was about to collapse, she grasped his shoulders, her head turned to the side, as he whispered encouragements into her ear.
“That’s it, Sophie. Let go… Come for me.”
And she did. She pressed her mouth against the fine wool of his topcoat to stifle her moans as glorious tremors racked her body.
He removed his hand and let her dress fall into place before taking her mouth again in a long, languorous kiss.
When he drew back to look down at her, his eyes were a darker, almost navy blue. They held a hint of danger and the promise of future delights.
“We should return. But, first, tell me you’ll meet me later?”
She realised then that he’d brought her more pleasure than she could have imagined possible, but that his own desire had remained unfulfilled. It was all too much and she was more than a little unsure of what she should do.
“I’m not sure,” she said when she finally spoke, choosing to be truthful.
“Sophie, you know what’s happening here, right?”
She nodded. “I need a little time to adjust to the idea that instead of becoming a wife soon, I will be…” She took a deep breath before continuing. “Well, we both know you will not be offering me marriage.”
She closed her eyes briefly as the full implications of her situation struck her. So much for her promise to Aunt Jane to behave with decorum at all times. She could tell Richard wanted to press his point, but was thankful when he refrained. Instead, he led her from the storage room in silence and they made their way back to his theatre box.
Chapter Four
Richard desperately needed a drink and some time alone. He’d planned to have dinner with his cousin and her husband after the play, but instead he made his excuses and returned home. Once there, he closeted himself in the study, where he poured himself a brandy and sank into an armchair. He tossed back the contents of the glass and stared into the fireplace.
Sophie Crandle was driving him insane. He was on edge and his very skin felt too tight. It was clear to both of them that she wanted him or she wouldn’t have allowed him the liberties he’d taken earlier that evening. Why, then, did she insist on delaying the inevitable? If she were any other woman he’d suspect her of playing games, but somehow he knew that wasn’t what Sophie was doing.
He remembered her parting comment about how he would be responsible for keeping her from an honourable marriage and felt an uncharacteristic twinge of guilt before dismissing the accusation from his mind. A marriage of convenience to his brother would have killed the delightful spark that was so much a part of Sophie. No, he refused to feel guilty.
He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, staring at the twisting, flickering flames that seemed to mirror his inner turmoil. His cock hardened as his thoughts turned to his encounter with Sophie in the storage room. Barely resisting the urge to throw his now-empty glass into the fireplace, he placed it, instead, on a side table and reached down to unbutton the fall of his breeches. He stopped, his frustration mounting, when there was a knock on his study door.
“I am sorry to interrupt, my lord,” his butler said when Richard bade him enter, “but there is a young woman here who insists on seeing you. I tried to explain—”
Richard was on his feet in a flash. “Where is she?”
If his butler was surprised, he didn’t show it. “In the drawing room, my lord.”
He told himself it couldn’t possibly be Sophie. She wouldn’t come here on her own at this late hour. Hell, given her last words to him he was beginning to think he’d never make love to her, but he couldn’t stop the anticipation that surged through his veins. Images filled his mind—Sophie laid bare beneath him as he drove into her again and again, begging him for more as he showed her all the ways he would make her his.
He was already rock hard when he entered the drawing room and found a woman in a dark cloak standing at the window. Her back was to him, but she turned at his entrance and raised her hands to draw back the hood.
“Sophie.”
With her dark hair and dark cloak, she looked even paler than usual, almost delicate, and for a moment he wondered if he was imagining her. There could only be one reason why she was there. He closed the door behind him and crossed the room to take her into his arms, but she stopped him with a hand to his chest. She licked her lips, drawing his eyes to her mouth, and he barely resisted the urge to groan.
“Before we…” She took a deep breath before continuing and, powerless to stop them, his eyes moved even lower, to the rise of her breasts hidden beneath her cloak. “I would like there to be complete honesty between us.”
She’d surprised him.
“I haven’t lied to you,” he said.
“No, you haven’t, but you haven’t been completely truthful, either. I need to know what happened to Henry. What did you do to make him leave town so quickly?”
Her question sparked his anger. He couldn’t believe she was still fixated on his brother.
“Contrary to what you wish to believe, I didn’t force Henry to leave London. He made that decision on his own.”
She shook her head. “Something must have happened between the two of you. I know he intended to propose to me. He told me so himself before—”
“Before I arrived and ruined both your lives?” He turned away from her, angry, frustrated and surprised at the bitterness in his tone.
“I don’t think that.”
He had to tell her everything or she would never let the matter drop. He’d told himself he wanted to spare her from feeling any embarrassment at his brother’s abandonment, but the truth was he’d been afraid she’d be hurt when she learnt the truth. He didn’t want to analyse why it would bother him so much, but he wasn’t sure he could deal with discovering that Sophie truly cared for his brother. He turned to face her again and somehow he kept his tone even.
“The only thing I can be accused of doing is providing Henry with an independent income and allowing him to make his own choice. I gave him an estate that wasn’t tied to the earldom. Once he no longer needed your fortune, he chose to go back to another woman, whom he claims to love.”
He saw her surprise before she looked away from him.
“Sophie—” he started.
She laughed then, a small, self-deprecating sound. “I feel so silly. I don’t know why I was so worried about him. I knew his primary interest in me lay with my inheritance, but it is still lowering to learn he didn’t care for me at all.”
Richard pulled her into his arms. “My brother is an idiot.”
He hated seeing her like this. More than her hurt and disappointment, however, he hated seeing the evidence of her feelings for Henry.
“Richard—”
“Henry didn’t deserve you,” he said fiercely, knowing in his heart that Sophie and his brother wouldn’t have had a happy union. She needed more than friendship, and his brother’s heart already belonged to another.
She drew back to meet his gaze. “I�
�m not upset. Quite the opposite, in fact. You can’t imagine how guilty I felt when I thought he might be a little heartbroken, because, you see, after meeting you I soon realised I was involved with the wrong brother.”
A tumult of emotions swept through him at her admission.
“It’s been killing me seeing you with him at all those events when I wanted you for myself.”
“I want that, too,” she said, her voice a soft caress.
He could no longer think beyond the fact that Sophie was in his arms, all soft and warm, smart and brave. The light lavender scent she wore seemed to envelop him, and this time he wasn’t going to let her escape. Lust threatened to overtake all reason, but somehow he kept his kiss gentle, caressing her cheeks with his thumbs as he breathed in her soft sigh of contentment. He trailed his hands down her body, enjoying the way she moved into his touch, and just like that the tenuous hold he had on his control began to slip. His head swam with an almost desperate need as he crushed her against him and took her mouth.
She clutched at his shoulders and the little sounds she made as she welcomed him, eagerly twining her sweet tongue around his, drove him mad. He was a hair’s breadth away from throwing her onto the floor and having her right then.
“Sophie,” he said, taking a deep breath to steady himself and pulling back a fraction so his lips hovered just above hers, “is this your first time?”
He knew what her answer would be, yet her small nod of affirmation caused an unexpected surge of possessiveness to sweep through him. No other man had ever touched her, or had shown her the heights of passion as he would. His cock was now so hard it was almost painful, yet he forced himself to think of her needs. It was nearly impossible, however, to see beyond the haze of passion that clouded her eyes. To think past the way her magnificent breasts felt pressed against his chest. To imagine what it would feel like to thrust into her tight, wet heat.
“We need to slow down,” he said, forcing the words out through sheer will alone.
The very last thing Sophie wanted was to slow down, and, from the feel of his manhood pressing against her lower belly and his almost pained expression, she knew he didn’t want that either. Now that she had overcome her misgivings about having a love affair with Richard, she couldn’t bear the thought of waiting another minute. Just being with him, alone in his house in the middle of the night, had her heart racing. She couldn’t help thinking about all of the delightfully wicked things they would do together.
Her breath was not quite steady when she stretched up to place her mouth on the spot where his jaw met his neck, and ran her tongue along the whisker-roughened skin. She rolled her hips and smiled with satisfaction when his breath hissed out from between clenched teeth.
Richard pushed open her cloak and brought his hands to rest against her ribcage. Against the heat of his touch, her silk gown felt impossibly thin, and when he smoothed his thumbs along the outer curve of her breasts in lazy circles her nipples tightened.
A nerve ticked along his jaw and she followed the movement with her tongue.
“I’m trying to be careful and you’re not making it easy.” The words, a rumble against her ear, sent shivers through her.
“Good,” she said, drawing back to give him a wicked smile.
With a low growl, he dropped his head and his tongue surged into her mouth to tangle with hers. His restraint was gone, and her body sang with anticipation of what was to come. He threaded his hands through her hair, scattering the pins she’d used to hold up the thick mass, and it tumbled down around her shoulders. He shifted his mouth to her neck to trail a hot path down the column of her throat and she held her breath, aching for him to bare her breasts as he had that first night.
When he straightened instead, she moaned with frustration. His gaze, hot and full of promise, captured hers.
“You’re wearing far too much.”
She’d forgotten that she still wore her cloak. She took a step back, raised her hands—which were shaking slightly—to untie the ribbons at the top, and let the cloak fall to the floor, discarded along with the last of her inhibitions. She moved back into his arms, anxious for him to continue. He kissed her with unexpected tenderness as he made quick work of undoing the row of buttons at the back of her dress. The heat of his hands on her newly exposed flesh felt deliciously sinful.
When he’d undone the last button, he lifted his head to look down at her. He eased the dress from her shoulders and she lowered her arms so it, too, would fall to the floor. His fingers flexed against her upper arms as he stared down at her. She should have felt embarrassed, standing in his drawing room in only her stays and chemise as his hungry eyes roamed over her, but desire made shyness impossible. He released her with a jerky movement and quickly removed the rest of her clothing. Only when she stood before him completely nude while he remained fully clothed did she feel the first stirrings of embarrassment.
She fought the urge to cover herself, but she couldn’t stop the blush that crept over her skin.
“You are so beautiful,” he said roughly, before pulling her against him.
The feel of his clothed body pressing into her naked one excited her, and moisture began to pool between her legs. The jut of his erection digging into her belly, and the sensation of her breasts sliding along the cool silk of his waistcoat overwhelmed her senses. Needing to feel him, she loosened his cravat and pulled it free. She undid the buttons of his waistcoat before sliding it, along with his coat, from his shoulders with a firm push.
Impatient, Richard drew his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor to join the rest of their clothing. She wanted to examine him the way he had her, but he pulled her towards him again. She made a small sound in the back of her throat at the contact. The feel of his hard chest against her soft breasts, the heat of his skin threatening to set hers afire, was like nothing she could ever have imagined.
His body was so different from hers and she couldn’t stop touching him. She ran her hands across his broad back and up the muscles of his strong arms. When he lowered his head and rubbed his cheek against one breast she clutched his shoulders and whimpered with need. Richard didn’t disappoint her. He ran his tongue over the already pebbled nipple and blew on it softly, before drawing it into his mouth and suckling hard. A jolt of sensation went through her and almost took her breath away. He cupped her neglected breast, pinching her nipple with one hand while he traced a path down her body with his other hand. She gasped when he parted the curls between her thighs and began to stroke her there. Her whole being ached with the need to reach the fulfilment he had introduced her to earlier that evening. Desperate to touch him in turn, she released his shoulders and swept her hands down his hard chest and abdomen and lower. She pressed a hand against his shaft, half amazed at her own bravado, and explored the hardness trapped under his breeches with gentle fingers. He stilled for a moment, then sucked in a harsh breath and rocked into her caress. A thrill of feminine power surged through her.
She moved to slide her hand into his breeches, wanting to give him the same pleasure he was showing her, but his hand clamped around her wrist, keeping it against his abdomen. Their eyes met and held for a long moment before he started guiding her backwards. When her legs hit the edge of the settee she lowered herself onto it. She panted, her excitement building, as she waited for the feel of his hard body coming down over hers. Instead, he knelt on the floor, facing her.
“I’ve wanted to taste you since that first time we met,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire as he drew his warm hands along the inside of her thighs, gently coaxing them apart. She shivered as he stared down at her.
His words confused her. She expected him to touch her there again, between her legs, where she most wanted his clever fingers. When he lowered his head, instead, and pressed his mouth high on the inside of her thigh, her mind momentarily blanked in shock. She allowed him to nudge her limbs wider and closed her eyes against the tumult of sensation pouring through her as his mouth
moved higher. Wanton desire curled tightly within her lower belly when he raised her legs to drape them over his shoulders. He trailed a hot, wet path to her slit and the sensation of his warm breath teasing her already sensitive skin was almost more than she could bear. She gasped, her body jerking when she felt the first sweep of his hot tongue.
She opened her eyes and looked down at him—her blood raced at the sight of his head between her thighs. Her heart turned over even as her desire increased. He swept his tongue along her folds before moving his mouth to tease the sensitive nub where all her need seemed to centre. She collapsed back against the cushions when he thrust first one, then two long fingers into her wet sheath, moving them in and out in time with the strokes of his agile tongue. It was too much. The burning image of his tousled head planted firmly between her thighs, the heavy scent of her own arousal and his talented, persistent mouth sent her plummeting over the edge. Her thighs tightened around his head as waves of unbearable pleasure exploded through her tense body. Her back arched uncontrollably as she cried out with raw, uninhibited joy. He didn’t stop, but continued the slow, maddening movement of his fingers and mouth until she was wrung out, dazed and covered in a fine sheen of sweat. She closed her eyes again, her body limp, as she struggled to catch her breath.
She didn’t protest when he raised her legs onto the settee and turned her until she was lying down. Only then did he move to join her, his body hovering just over hers.
“Touch me, Sophie.”
She could see the strain of holding back in the tight lines of his face. His blue eyes had darkened and a flush touched the edge of his cheekbones. She didn’t think it possible, not after the earth-shattering orgasm she had just experienced, but her desire started to stir again. He was so dear to her and she could no longer imagine what life would be like without him. She would do anything for him. The thought should have frightened her, but it didn’t.
Dear Stranger Page 4