“Just give me a minute. That’s quite the right hook you have.” Cal blinked experimentally before deciding he wouldn’t be doing that again anytime soon. Damn, his face hurt. “I thought we were in agreement, but if you’ve changed your mind and don’t want me in your bed, I’ll respect that.”
“I want you here. But maybe don’t try to wake me up like that until I’m used to sharing a bed with you, all right?”
Cal winced. “Fair. That’s fair. I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” Even her lightest touch on his cheekbone made his breath hiss. “You should have joined me at Gentleman Jackson’s.”
She shrugged, seemingly unconcerned that her shirt hung off one shoulder, nearly putting that delicious breast on display. The sight was almost enough to distract him from the pain in his face. Almost. “Sometimes the fights are bare-chested, otherwise I’d have been right there beside you.”
Someday this would be a funny story. They’d laugh about it and joke about how he should have known better than to sneak up on a scrapper like Phee. He shot her a one-eyed leer. “You’re right. You’d cause a riot. I’m certainly enjoying the view, love.”
Not even trying to hide how he stared, Cal held out a hand toward her. Without hesitation, Phee twined her fingers with his, giving him a crooked smile.
“We both know there isn’t much to see here. Prinny has a better set of breasts than I do.”
“I beg to differ. My face aches like a son of a bitch, but I’m still hard as a pike looking at you, and you aren’t even naked. All I see are freckles I want to trace with my tongue. Nipples I need to suck until you moan—preferably without you blackening my other eye, thank you. You’re perfect.”
Phee cocked her head. “Are you trying to start something again, milord?”
Tugging her hand closer to where he sprawled, Cal grinned, ignoring the throb of his face. “Miss Hardwick, I think it’s safe to say I’ll always be starting something with you.”
“But what about your eye?” It was a half-hearted protest at best, as she left her puddle of blankets to kneel beside him. Holy hell, she wasn’t wearing anything but the shirt.
“I can see fine out of one eye. Come here and let me taste you. Please.”
She laid a gentle kiss on his aching cheek, then rested on her heels. He swept a palm from her hip, then under her shirt to cup one breast. Even though she arched into his touch, Phee shook her head.
“You’re incorrigible. That eye needs attention far more than your cock does.” With a teasing wink, she straddled his waist and ran a hand over his chest. “Let’s get you taken care of. We have all the time in the world for the rest.” Phee wiggled against the tent in his breeches, apparently just for the fun of torturing him, then crawled off the end of the bed.
Indulging in an unobstructed view of her miles of leg and flashes of a pert behind, Cal groaned. Sure, this encounter hadn’t gone the way he’d imagined. At. All. But goodness, she was all limbs. Soon enough, those legs would wrap around him, and the wait would be worth it.
* * *
Predictably, the cook fussed and made tutting noises over Cal, with enough sideways glances toward Phee that she suspected his explanation of “a friendly bout of boxing gone awry” would entertain everyone belowstairs.
She hadn’t meant to hit him. In fact, she didn’t have a memory of doing so. After thinking over little else all day, she’d deduced that after years of being on guard, her body defended first and would ask questions later. Cal had successfully joined her in her room in London, but he had done nothing other than sleep next to her. It would take time to adjust to having a man touching her.
And she wanted him to touch her.
The sun was gone by the time a knock at the door sounded. A shiver of excitement rippled under her skin, leaving a tingle in its wake and a grin on her face. Waiting had been nerve-racking. Now that he was here, trepidation vanished and anticipation filled her. She clambered out of bed and opened the door.
Cal stood, tall and handsome as ever, but for a black eye. He’d stripped to breeches, a shirt, and boots, with his hair hanging free. Holding out two towels and his banyan, he said, “Want to go on an adventure?”
Phee leaned against the doorframe. “Am I going to get naked during this adventure?”
“God, I hope so.” His lopsided grin sent butterflies loose in her belly. “Put this on. Let’s go.”
Lifting the wide collar of the robe to her nose, she breathed deep. It smelled like him and made her wonder if any part of him would taste like gingerbread.
“This way.” He took her hand and led with confident steps through the quiet corridor, down a dark staircase, and through a door into the night.
They’d walked for several minutes through inky darkness when a subtle flash of light winked between the trees. As they stepped through the line of elms, the light flashed again as the moon overhead shone on the lake. Cal set the towels on a rock and began tugging off his boots.
“You swim, right?” he asked.
A glance over her shoulder showed the lake, placid and waiting, reflecting moonlight. “I haven’t in years.”
Her meaning didn’t take long to sink in. He slumped over. “Hell and blast, of course, you’d avoid lakes and such after what happened. I’m sorry.”
She touched his shoulder gently to stop his self-flagellation. The silvery light off the water held her attention. “Just give me a minute.”
This was the closest she’d been to any body of water besides the Thames since the accident. Since she lived in London, the river was nigh unavoidable, so she’d gotten used to it. Besides, the stench of the Thames, with its floating layer of disgusting debris from humanity, was a far cry from this serene scene. This resembled the pond in Northumberland.
The pond had been the place where her entire plan had been born. The one she’d clung to for years meant boarding a great ship and crossing an ocean, bound for a new life. She and Adam had created that plan, and it had always felt imperative to see it through for him. If she didn’t get over this aversion to water, the crossing to America or the Continent would be utter hell. But given the new relationship with Cal, would she even get that far? She might never have to face the Atlantic, and frankly, she didn’t know how to feel about that. With him sitting so close, that sea voyage seemed further away than ever. A problem for another day.
Phee cleared her throat. “I can manage a swim. If you’d wanted to row out there, it would be a different story. No small boats. Not after Adam.” Not after she’d pushed him and sent him toppling. Phee shoved the thought down. “The water looks inviting. Let’s do it.”
Cal studied her but didn’t move otherwise. “You’re sure?”
She nodded, toeing off her shoes.
“If that’s the case, then strip.” With a wink, he pulled off his shirt, letting it billow onto the ground, then stood and unbuttoned his breeches.
Not to be outdone, Phee dredged up her earlier excitement and bravado from this afternoon, when she’d thought nothing of sitting in front of him nearly undressed. That bold, confident version of herself was someone she longed to be all the time. So she let the banyan join his clothes on the ground and fingered the hem of her nightshirt as she stared at him.
Lordy, his kind of beauty shouldn’t be available to mere mortals. Yet he stood, immobile, looking at her too. Really looking. Not glancing over to give his usual flippant comment, then going about his merry way. No, Cal’s gaze was nothing short of hot. Hungry enough to light an answering fire within her.
Phee quirked a smile. The lake water would probably sizzle when it hit their skin from the heat of his expression alone. “No one’s ever looked at me like you are right now.”
“Then they’ve never really seen you. If you’re more comfortable with the shirt, then leave it on. Once it gets wet, it will be sheer anyway,” he teased, holding out a hand.
Phee inched the hem higher on her legs, enjoying how his gaze focused on each new inch of skin. There was nowhere she�
��d rather be, and no one else she’d choose to share this night with. It might take time to get comfortable being naked with him, but even as Cal stood before her so confidently, he didn’t push beyond what she wanted to give. With a deep breath, she drew the shirt over her head and let it fall to the ground.
* * *
Cool water lapped at his ankles, the silty bottom squishing beneath his toes as he led her into the lake. Every time he came home to Lakeview, he swam. It had become his private ritual over the years, and bringing Phee along tonight felt right. They stopped when the water reached her breasts, and the rhythmic waves against her body entranced him. He wanted to kiss right there, where the water made her skin wet and shiny like a pearl.
“Did you swim here as a boy?” she asked, distracting him from the sight she made.
“No.” He shook his head. “I won Lakeview in a game of cards during my misspent youth. Maybe that’s why it’s my favorite property. Father has never visited, and Mother was already dead.”
“So it’s unentailed and entirely yours. From everything you’ve said about your childhood, I can see why you wouldn’t want those memories here.”
Cal glanced toward the trees and the house well beyond them. “This place doesn’t have those ghosts. It’s peaceful.” He gestured toward an inlet partially hidden behind a willow at the water’s edge. “Want to swim? I’ll race you.”
The strokes came as second nature, and soon he whipped through the water with ease, Phee keeping pace beside him. Putting on a burst of speed, she shot forward, showing that same competitive spirit she brought to their fencing matches.
Soon she pulled ahead. An arm’s length. A torso ahead now. She was quick, cutting through the water with those long limbs.
The edge of the lake drew closer with each breath, each stroke. Out of the corner of his eye, the willow tree appeared, trailing its branches over the water. He reached out a hand and caught her calf and yanked.
Phee surfaced, sputtering and swearing. “Damned dirty cheat!”
His laugh echoed off the lake until her hands slapped his chest, then rested against him. “Cheat? Never. We’re behind the willow. You won.”
Wicking water drops from her eyes, Phee looked back. The line of her neck enchanted him as thoroughly as the feel of her waist under his hand. Wet, naked skin pressed against him, and he didn’t care one whit who’d won the race.
“You admit defeat?”
“I do. You swim like a fish.” He panted, slightly out of breath. A pleasant burning in his lungs let him know the exercise had been welcome. Like a congratulatory handshake to his muscles for a job well done.
“Are you actually a selkie?” He skimmed his fingers along her spine. The soft lake bottom touched his feet as she bobbed off to find her footing, taking her heat with her. A protest died on his tongue when she backed toward shore, baring more of her body as she moved. With every step, the water level slid lower along her skin.
The tops of her breasts shone wet under the moon. Then nipples. Then her ribs. Then an adorable dip of a belly button. She stared at him, then at his waist, and raised a brow in challenge. The minx knew exactly what she did to him. Cal watched her with a predatory focus as goose bumps raised along her skin.
“Don’t selkies lure men to their deaths?”
He grinned, and she responded by flashing her own white teeth in the moonlight. “That might be a siren you’re thinking of. Either way, the thought applies. Wet and naked is an excellent look for you, Miss Hardwick.”
Phee flicked drops of water from her eyes. Short curls stuck up from her head like twisted hedgehog quills, and he wanted to sink his fingers into them while he devoured every inch of her.
“Either you’re deluded, or you’re trying to seduce me.” She threw a flirtatious look over her shoulder as she inched closer to shore. The waves lapped under the curve of her bottom now. With deliberate casualness, she stretched her arms overhead, and he couldn’t wait anymore.
Water splashed around his legs as he joined her in the shallows. When the heat of her finally pressed against his front, a sigh escaped them both, and she pulled his lips to her neck.
They were of one mind then, because his entire focus had narrowed to tasting her, burying himself in her until neither remembered how it felt to exist alone.
Her small breasts made him ache. They fit perfectly in his palms as he tugged her nipples between his fingers. She was warm against his lips. The fresh bite of lake water and the earthy tang of sandalwood teased his nose. “I’m a bit obsessed with your nipples.”
“They’re nipples. Literally every person on the planet has a pair.”
“Yes, but yours are perfect.” He rolled the tips between his fingers as if to punctuate the statement, and her breath shuddered. “They’re darker, like your lips. Incredibly responsive.” With only a fingertip, he traced a circle around each areola, and the skin puckered even more. “And when they’re tight like this, they look like they’re begging for attention. Begging for my hands. For my mouth.” Grazing the slope of her shoulder with his lips, he slid one hand along the front of her belly toward the nest of russet curls.
Water licked along her slit in a wet little flick against his finger when he found her clitoris. She quivered, pressing tighter against the hardness of him. A low, rumbling moan worked up his throat when she pushed against his fingers, showing him with her hips exactly where she wanted his touch. Good. The best lovemaking required both people to give and take. He wanted her to show him what she needed.
“God, Phee, I’ve missed you.” The confession tore from him, welling from deep inside, where he hadn’t intended to let her go. But she’d burrowed in nonetheless, and now he didn’t want her to leave. He explored her puffy, slick folds, then slid a finger into her. She whimpered and he groaned at the tight heat.
There were few things he could offer that he hadn’t already shared with someone else. Except tonight. He could give her this, now, and know it would be theirs alone. “How do you feel about sex outdoors?”
She tilted her head as if thinking it over, though he suspected it was to give him better access to nibble and suck along her shoulder. Every time he did, more goose bumps rippled over her skin and he smiled. Damn, her body responded so beautifully. Inside her hot quim, he hooked his finger, pressing against the spongy area he knew would feel good. Her knees buckled, but he caught her against him.
“I can see the appeal. It’s quiet.” She panted between the words, then let loose a breathy moan when he added another finger to her tight passage. “Secluded. No servants about.”
“I’ve never made love outdoors. I want to give you as many of my firsts as I can.” Her hips moved in time with his fingers.
The other hand plucked her nipple, then he brushed his palm over the tender flesh, tracing his fingers over the taut skin of the prettiest breast he’d ever seen. She shivered, then groaned his name like a prayer.
Phee reached between their bodies and wrapped her fingers around him. “Now. Please, Cal. I need you.”
“Thank God.” He turned her around and cupped her bottom when she hopped and brought her legs around his waist. The hard line of his erection met the warm slit of her body, and he nearly spent right then. If he had to recite limericks or the lineage he’d been forced to memorize from Debrett’s Peerage, he would—anything to make sure this wouldn’t be over before it had truly begun.
Phee clung to him, pressing their slick chests together while her tongue battled his, gasping as if coming up for air after holding her breath underwater. With a roll of her hips, she settled her heated center over his cock.
The first Earl of Carlyle, Henry Battenmore, gifted the title by Queen Elizabeth on August 25, 1598…
Water splashed in cool droplets against his legs as he got them the rest of the way to shore with more speed than grace. When he laid her on the bank, Cal took a second to take in the picture she made. Long limbs, creamy skin, and that thatch of curls where she’d soaked the top of
his dick a moment before.
“You’re sure?” he had to ask, even as he prayed she wouldn’t say no.
A disbelieving laugh shook her chest. “Calvin, get inside me.” A frown cut her laughter short. “Unless you aren’t sure. If you’re having second thoughts—”
His mouth stopped the flow of words and doubt, and he let his body answer her question. Reaching down to guide himself into her inch by amazing inch, Cal held her gaze, held his breath, and tried to hold time still even as his body shook.
Bloody hell, he was having sex with Phee. God, she felt good. Slick and tight and right.
Resting on his elbows, he tried to hold his weight off her slender frame, but Phee was having none of it. She sank her hands into his hair and pulled him down for a kiss, then wrapped her legs around him and squeezed until he was fully inside her.
With every stroke, she welcomed him with another flood of silky wet heat, and Cal’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head. Skin on skin, moans, and breathy words of encouragement echoed off the lake. Her name became a chant on his lips as they stared into each other’s eyes. She tugged his head down until their foreheads touched.
“Good?” she murmured.
“Better than good.” Understatement of the century, but all he could manage when his bollocks were this tight. Pressing against her nub, he rocked deep until her breathing stopped altogether for several beats. There. That was what she needed to topple over the edge before him, because damn, he couldn’t wait much longer.
Her hands didn’t rest, clutching the muscles of his arse with every thrust, then along his spine until they anchored again in his hair.
When she broke, she arched, squeezing his cock until he saw stars and claiming him as thoroughly as he claimed her.
“I’m too close,” he managed, slipping from her body at the last minute. He trembled, then groaned when she stroked him once, twice, before he spilled on the grass.
“So that’s what all the fuss is about. Sex, I mean.” Warm breath fanned over his ear. He chuckled against her shoulder, then kissed it, too exhausted for more than that. She turned and he caught her smile—wide and happy and satisfied. “I’m glad it was you.”
West End Earl Page 17
