He exploded across the bed, upsetting what was left of the cheese. He was on all fours and an inch from her face. “You are!” he all but roared. He could not bear to hear her discount herself. Torturing himself, he flowed the very edges of his lips against hers. “You are,” he swore.
“What?” she whispered back. “What am I but a failure in all my hopes and schemes?”
She was herself, and that was more than enough for him. He meant to say more. He meant to convince her of her worth. But the moment they were lip to lip, his words evaporated. Whatever his noble intensions were, they disappeared beneath the heat of her breath, the caress of her lips, and the gentle stroke of her hand across his jaw.
“May I not have this one night?” she whispered. “I know what tomorrow brings for me. I know what the rest of my life will be. Will you deny me this one thing that I want? One night for the rest of my life? Especially since everyone will assume we have done it.”
Such logic when his body was on fire. Such need to please her flooded his thoughts. “You will regret this tomorrow,” he said. It was his last grasp at rationality before desire completely overran him.
“Such arrogance,” she said as her hand cupped his face. “To think that you know what I will think on the morrow.”
He pulled back enough to see the honesty in her eyes. “You have me there,” he admitted. Here and everywhere. “But I will not take your virginity. Leave me with some small measure of honor.”
She smiled, her expression softening such that he saw her strength and pain mixed with relief and joy. It was the measure of joy that convinced him. Especially as he intended to make it blossom until she felt nothing but ecstasy.
“I have seen your honor, my lord. But now, please, cast it aside.” She touched his mouth. “For tonight, at least.”
He smiled. “For you.”
Chapter Seventeen
Lilah felt hislips on hers, his body as he surrounded her, and his need in the frenzied domination of her mouth. She’d known he was holding back. She’d seen him reach for her a dozen times only to stop while his gaze roved over her body with obvious hunger. It fired her blood to see him want her. And when he finally cast aside his restraint, she waited for his frenzied possession. Shewantedhis possession.
He did not disappoint.
He held her head, he thrust inside her mouth, and while they dueled tongue to tongue, his free hand curled over her breast. His fingers shaped her flesh, rolled her nipple, and squeezed just enough to make sensation burst through her breast, straight to her womb. She gasped against his lips. Such feeling! And he used that moment of startled amazement to push her back against the mattress.
She went willingly. She did everything he wanted eagerly. When he pulled at the buttons of her gown, she helped him strip it away. She tugged at the ties of her stays, frustrated when the bindings knotted. He soothed his hands over hers and did what she could not. And then they both cast them aside. She’d long since removed her shoes, but now he stroked her stockings and rubbed his hand up the inside of her thighs as he claimed her mouth again.
Such heat she felt, such wetness as he pressed her down. Her shift still covered her. He untied her stockings but did not wrest them down. Instead he kissed her longer, deeper, while she surrendered her body to whatever he chose. And when he broke the kiss to scrape his teeth along her jaw, she arched her back and whispered, “I don’t know what to do.”
“I do,” he said as his hands rolled over her hips. He was pulling her shift over her head, his hands spanning her belly, her ribs, and up to her breasts. “Tell me if anything upsets you.” He paused, his hands large as he spanned her ribs. He looked into her eyes and spoke clearly. “Tell me if it hurts.”
“Your clothing,” she said. “It rubs me raw.”
It was a lie. His shirtsleeves were the finest linen and a sensuous caress beneath her shift. And yet it was also true because she wanted his skin against hers. She wanted him to feel as exposed as she did.
He nodded then pulled himself back. He withdrew his hands slowly, letting her feel his touch across her vulnerable belly. Her muscles rippled in reaction, sending sensation to her womb.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered.
He grinned. “I’m not.”
She watched as he removed his waistcoat and shirt. He was above her on the bed, his broad shoulders and trim waist now revealed to her. She drank in the sight and marveled at the muscles that defined his body.
“There is no fat on you,” she murmured as she stroked her hand across his torso.
“You know how abysmal our cooks have been. I have had no temptation to overeat.”
She chuckled as continued to touch him. What heaven to feel a man’s body in its prime. “It’s more than that,” she mused as she pushed up on her elbow to get closer. “Your muscles are…” Words failed her. They were big and thick, like a laborer’s, and yet more fluid as he moved.
“I did plenty of work this past year. My father was too frail and much had been neglected.”
He let her touch him, let her press kisses to his chest and roll her hands across his ribs. She touched the flat disks of his nipples and teased them with her nails. As his breath caught, she grew bolder. She kissed them next and teased them with her tongue while his hands tightened on her shoulders.
Before long, he tightened his grip and set her away from him. “My turn,” he said with a grin. Then he pulled her shift off and she sat naked before him except for her stockings. His gaze grew hot, and he looked at her with such intensity. Not moving. Not even breathing. Just staring.
“My lord?”