Perhaps he merely intended to revel in watching her slowly go mad with need.
She hadn’t known that kisses could be so infinitely nuanced. That his mouth merely feathering across hers could light tiny bonfires across her nerve endings everywhere in her body.
And as his mouth distracted her with chaste things, his fingers were intent on overtly carnal ones. They glided slowly up her torso, and his thumbs deftly hooked the top of her bodice to drag it down far enough for him to draw his knuckles lightly, teasingly, over her bead-hard nipples. She saw the surge of triumph in his eyes before her head fell back from the onslaught of pleasure. Her breath snagged on a moan.
But he allowed her to see that he was in thrall. His expression was so fiercely, joyfully possessive in response to whatever he saw in hers that it made her knees feel boneless.
And she could feel the lust tense his every muscle; his grip tightened on her.
He kept the pace stately as a minuet. Torturously, dangerously, erotically slow. Laughter drifted in from the ballroom as he furled up her dress. Like a coconspirator, he transferred the folds of her skirt to her to hold so he could unbutton his trousers. A moment later she felt his hard cock press against her belly.
Together they evolved their kiss into something hungry and searching, a clash of teeth, a lascivious duel. She loved the rich, dark taste of him; she reveled in taking as much as he did, in knowing she was driving him mad, too. Below, in the wet heat between her legs, his fingers mimicked the skillful stroke and plunge of his tongue, rhythmically, until her hips were circling against him, until her head thrashed away from him on a surfeit of pleasure, and white heat raced over her skin.
The clack of billiards disguised her muffled cry as her release broke over her with a burst of light behind her eyes.
He guided his cock into her to the sound of billiard balls colliding.
They were locked as closely as two people could be, in this narrow space, behind a spiky plant. His hips moved in deep, languorous thrusts. He scooped his hands under her buttocks, gripping her, lifting her up so he could drive himself deeper. The wall was cold against her bare skin.
She watched a gleam of sweat gather on his brow. Their mingled breath was hot and raggedbetween them, a storm. Her hands were knotted in the waistcoat she’d just complimented. His eyes were fierce then distant, as his release came upon him.
And she knew when he was close by the shallow, swift sway of his back with his breath. She pressed his head to her shoulder with her hand. His groan vibrated against her neck.
She held him as his great body quaked.
The clack of billiards. The distant echoing laughter of a party. The shockingly close voices of partygoers. All of this was proof.
Sex in a dark alcove at a crowded affair seemed reckless, and dangerous, and absolutely avoidable for anyone, let alone a venerable, famous colonel, and now an earl. One who cared so much about his reputation, and hers.
That was how she knew.
He was not in control of this, either.
They held each other. His cheek pressed against her hair. He murmured something soft and unintelligible, and yes, if she was not mistaken, loving.
And finally she let go of him, because she feared if she didn’t do it now she never would be able to again.
Chapter Sixteen
Like so many other things in life, inhibition at The Grand Palace on the Thames seemed to have an ebb and flow.
“This might sound odd, but I’m a little wistful that the Dawsons have gotten so quiet.” Angelique said this to Lucien while she sat at her dressing table, pinning up her hair, getting ready for the day. Lucien was sitting on the bed behind her, pulling up his boots.
“Oh, yes. I, too, am wistful that they now feel constrained from making love with the noisy abandon of barnyard animals,” he said gravely.
Angelique laughed. “Lucien, don’t make me laugh when I’m trying to be profound. It’s always a little sad when we lose a bit of our innocence, don’t you think? Or maybe the word I want is ‘naivete.’ They may never make love with that kind of abandon again. And while I don’t particularly want tohearthem do it...”
“I do know what you mean. It’s that Garden-of-Eden type of innocence, as if they were the only man and woman in the world, and now they’ve been cast out for being loud. But the loss of innocence is the price of wisdom, I fear.” Lucien stoodand kissed the top of her head. “At least they were among kind people when they discovered that they’re loud.”
“We’re both profound this morning.”
“And I’ll miss you profoundly for the next few days.” Lucien and Captain Hardy were compelled to go back to the shipyard, but word had it the repairs were nearly done. “Know that I carry you with me in my heart, always.”
“Likewise, love.”
And they went down to breakfast together.
No moaning was heard in the hall.