She breathed deep, the rise of her chest meeting with a heated murmur of approval, and nestled her head into the down pillow, yielding to sensation, a soundless, irrevocable bliss. She would savour his precious attention. She’d create dream after dream to supplicate her future.
‘This is what you want.’ He didn’t ask, but whispered in her ear, the words echoed in her soul. Then he chuckled a dark sound, arrogant and sensual, most of all.
His feasted on her breasts, his hot kiss finding one then the other, his clever tongue, a master of pleasure and sensual promise. When he drew her nipple into his mouth, she shuddered, her skin acutely sensitive while his chin abraded her ribs, the rough masculine caress an erotic contrast to the inordinate arousal streaming through her body. Still she wanted more. His teeth played too, teasing and tasting, and she wriggled with impatience, the restless force building below, between her legs where she grew wet and anxious, almost too demanding to comprehend. She opened her mouth, wanting him to know, but nothing came out, all ability lost to exquisite sensation.
He gingerly swept her night rail lower. Down over her ankles, thrust away with the bed linens, so that they alone were atop the mattress, man and woman, fantasy lovers. She peeked from below bowed lashes as he studied her body, his eyes bewitched with a wicked gleam that dared her heart to stop beating. She was completely exposed, his for the taking, and he hesitated less than a breath before he came down to taste her again.
He nuzzled a path across her abdomen, leaving a trail of hot kisses as he breathed against her skin. His tongue flicked into her navel, then beyond, to tease the most precious part of her. She whimpered a sound of mixed emotion, insecurity, challenge, and primal desire. Still he waited, she too, strung with impatience. Would he not touch her, taste her, relieve the urgent, fire-hot demand of her body? She could wait no longer.
‘Please.’
The whispered entreaty sounded raw in the room’s silence as his palms covered her inner thighs, her body revealed as he settled between her legs, the brush of his silky hair against her skin an erotic gift.
He cupped her sex, held her in his hand with matched heat, the core of her being, her pulse and soul, much the same way she held his heart.
‘You do smell like apricots everywhere.’ He laughed the low, raspy chuckle of an experienced scoundrel. ‘Fancy that.’ Trailing a feathered touch under her breast, he explored down her ribs and lower across her sex.
She had no time to process his words. His tongue dipped into her and the same simmering sparks that begged for release burst force like liquid fire through her veins, sensitivity exploding in a forceful reckoning that reached every cell of her being.
He kept her in place, firm and gentle, his velvety tongue divining every secret as he tasted and licked, while she burned beneath his erotic ministration, arching her head into the pillow, strained to withstand the glorious assault of his attention.
Just as when he’d touched her in the parlour, a deliberate, insistent yearning swirled within, magnified by each stroke of his tongue, threatening to melt her, tear her apart and destroy if she did not allow it to come. She pressed her head into the pillow, grasping hopelessly at the mattress, and shattered into a million sparks of white as brilliant and glorious as new stars in the sky.
Vague kisses teased along her inner thigh and abdomen as if she perceived every thought through a dream, only becoming aware when his weight left the mattress. He shed his clothes with haste and returned beside her, his mouth on her shoulder, his whisper in her ear. ‘You are delectable, a sweet like no other.’
Gathering her in his arms, he knew exactly what she needed, to be collected and held close after the devastating effects of her climax, but she wouldn’t stay there long. Nestled against his chest, the thrum of his heart beneath his heated skin, she marvelled at the strength and differences of his body. She hadn’t the delight of exploring his body during their precious intimacy and she wouldn’t miss the chance now.
The heat of his erection against her hip reminded while he’d offered her pleasure, he hadn’t experienced the same. She’d never touched a man before Luke, but she would not falter for lack of confidence. She angled her chin upward, pressed a kiss to his jaw and at the same time snaked her hand down to his arousal. Her fingers encircled his length, hard, hot and smooth, and he groaned, a husky reverberation beneath her ear against his chest.
She shifted, causing him to fill the space she’d only just abandoned with his head on her pillow. His eyes were wide open, unlike hers. He wished to watch, not dream. Emboldened by his observation and wanting to please, she slid her hand down his length, gentle at first, then with more understanding. His body flexed beneath her attention and she watched the ripple of powerful muscle and defined strength as he savoured each stroke of her palm, his erection thick and unyielding. His eyes became heavy-lidded as he succumbed to the pleasure she wrought, and so inspired by his wickedness, she brought her mouth to him, tasting the velvety tip of his erection, daring to pass her tongue over the soft, sensitive flesh.
He grunted, some word she couldn’t decipher, and his neck strained as if he could not bear her attention. More the better. Beside her his thigh muscles bunched tight under heated skin covered with dark hair, powerful and masculine beauty combined. She matched his eyes with a slight smile and lowered her lips a second time. Sharing in that power, taking control and using it to bring him the pleasure he deserved, she formed a bond, made a promise, and revelled in the joy of that freedom.
Pleasure. Indescribable, unmeasurable pleasure. Nothing compared to the hot, sweet pressure of Georgina’s lips around his cock. Her hair fell forward with each motion and the silken strands traced across his thighs in a whisper of erotic entreaty. The tips of her luscious breasts grazed his legs, taunting with the suggestion he would not withstand her sensual assault. Oh, but he would or die trying, and what a death it would be.
He lost the mental thread of reason when the wet heat of her mouth enveloped him again, sliding down inch by inch. His cock throbbed, every muscle in his body sensitized. She explored, the minx, oblivious to the havoc she wreaked on his sanity. Her slick, agile tongue slid along the ridge of his length, flicked with curious investigation around the sensitive tip, and then down again as if she worked to discover every secret of his sex. Her innocent interest proved divine torture and he was fast losing control.
When she licked the underside, he groaned. When she slowed her tongue over the crown, he pulled a sharp breath. With newfound knowledge and power, she drew on him, a tremor shooting through every pinnacle of his being. He threaded his fingers through the tangles of her hair, torn between disallowing her to continue, his body on the edge of release, and waiting, wanting one more lick, one more smooth glide of her perfect cupid’s-bow mouth, wrapped around his aching length.
He ignored the decision, lost in the sensual bliss and outrageous madness of her intimate kisses until she made the choice for him and lifted away. Her palms smoothed over his abdomen, the muscles jerked tight in reaction to her caresses as she returned to the pillows, her lips meeting his to place a murmur there.
‘You taste good too.’
He brought her mouth to his, deepening their kiss as he rolled, one swift movement that had him right where he wished to be, cradled between her hips, his cock pressed to her core. He thrust into the kiss, nipping and licking his way into her sweet mouth, hot, half-parted and anxious. He wouldn’t rush, though. There were too many wonders to explore and hours before dawn.
‘How did I get so lucky?’ He didn’t want an answer, too wary of Fate to poke a stick at serendipity. Instead, he distracted her with whispered kisses across her cheek, earlobe and down the arch of her neck. He’d never lain with an innocent. Christ, he’d never made love. Any joining he’d experienced through his years of manhood composed a casual arrangement or baseborn rutting. This night was entirely different and, while she’d prevented him from speaking the words, he knew in his soul he loved her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers laced through the hair at his nape. ‘You will always have my heart.’
The words were edged with sadness and he held his breath, but she didn’t say more.
‘I want more than your heart.’ He watched, her hair a skein of silk unravelled on the pillow.
Her husky laugh told him she’d misconstrued his words, believing he spoke of her body and the pleasure found this evening in their loveplay, and he would not pause to elaborate. He ached in painful frustration of another kind, her core slick and wet against the tip of his cock. With as much gentleness as he could manage, he angled his hips and pushed himself inside.
They gasped together, his own surprise multiplied by her tremulous reaction. She was impossibly tight and incredibly hot and, as he’d entered her sex, her muscles contracted around him, holding him inside, as right as a key in a lock. He dared not move at first, his release inevasible and the subtle quiver of her body beneath his threatened he’d spill himself.
But she wasn’t aware, sweet love, and she wriggled her hips, impatient and much more vixen than governess at the moment, so he set a steady rhythm and forced himself to withstand the anguish of temperance, so much so his muscles tremored and his brow perspired, though two breaths later it proved all for naught. He thrust into her with a hard, swift stroke, all power and muscle and yearning, one last time before he withdrew. Then he closed his eyes and growled his pleasure as climax rocked through him, a fierce release like he’d never known, buried in the bedsheets.
He heard her gasp or sigh, some faraway sound that found his ear before he collapsed beside her, holding fast, gathered in each other’s arms. They lay like that for several timeless moments until their breathing paired and evened, until the only existent sound was the simmer and crackle of the fire in the hearth. Still, he knew she did not sleep. He needn’t look at her to know her mind spun.
‘You shouldn’t worry.’ He lifted a wayward lock from her shoulder and rubbed the silken strands between his fingers. ‘No one will force you to marry.’
‘It’s hardly an easy task. My uncle wished to keep his money within the bloodlines. He added a clause within the will in consideration of his son’s failed engagements and his brother’s two daughters. It is specifically directed at Joy and me. Some ridiculous codicil kept by Lord Muller.’ Her voice shook with emotion now. ‘I cannot allow my family to fall into social ruin. My father has no investments to keep us afloat, no holdings to support our way of life. I cannot disappoint my parents in their later years nor leave this duty to my younger sister. I could not live with myself.’
‘Your father would sacrifice you then?’ He clenched his teeth, his temper all at once provoked.
‘Only because he has no other choice.’ She hissed the words, likely as angry at the truth of it as the predicament.
‘I disagree.’ He didn’t particularize, his mind already formulating a plan for the morrow. And he wouldn’t allow the discussion to mar whatever time they had left. By the same reason, it didn’t seem the appropriate time to declare his feelings. No matter he’d never felt as close to one person, as if he shared a heartbeat or the same breath. He loved his son immensely and, if he managed to right the wrong perpetrated on Georgina, they could all share the future of their dreams. He settled for a mutter against her skin. ‘You will always be precious to me, Georgina. Too precious to ever risk to chance.’
Chapter Twenty-Two
Luke sat behind his desk at The Underworld forcing another column of debts and credits to their sums though his mind was anywhere but invested in the ledgers. He’d walked the hell floor at least five times tonight, yet the action increased the restless energy simmering beneath his skin rather than depleting it.
His son slept soundly in the guest chambers at the Hewitt household, returned to him intact and safe. He should count himself lucky, at last able to build a better life, but all he could think about was Georgina in his arms the night before, her endless kisses and incredibly soft skin, the heat of her body and tight wet response to his attention.
Christ. Nothing ever felt so right before. Not once in his life.
Still, as valiant as she was beautiful, she believed no solution existed. Unwilling to upset her family or disappoint her father, she’d sacrifice her future happiness by marrying Lord Muller.
He threw the pen down on the desktop in disgust.
She might be at terms with that decision, but he sure as hell wasn’t.
Without a knock, the door opened to reveal Max and Cole. His partners claimed their usual spots before he could warn of his foul mood.
‘You should do something.’ Cole flipped a chip high enough to skim the ceiling of the office and caught it without a glance. ‘I’ve never seen you this way.’
‘Nor I,’ Max agreed. ‘Not even when you searched for Nate.’
‘You criticize as a twosome then?’ The surly jest came out sharper than intended.
‘Find a way.’ Cole looked towards Max and back again. ‘We always do. It’s a bastard’s right and legacy to break the rules, seek unlikely fortune, and best the best of them in the end.’
‘It’s not as simple as that,’ he grumbled, declining their friendly advice in lieu of frustration.
‘That’s irrelevant.’ Max glared in his direction. ‘Do you need either of us to detail the effort and distress we’ve experienced to obtain our brides?’
Luke slowly shook his head, aware of the torment and ultimate triumph. ‘Point made.’
‘Then get on with it.’ Cole stood and Max followed. ‘Nobody can enjoy your company when you’re at odds.’
Georgina arrived in Coventry as scheduled, unprepared for the intense wave of ambivalence which flooded her as soon as she unlocked the door to her cottage. She’d already retrieved Biscuit, who looked pounds heavier due to the butcher’s indulgence. After filling a bowl with water to set near the pug in the kitchen, she settled near the front window as she’d done all those weeks ago before her life became a storm of emotion and her heart broke in two.
Her parents weren’t pleased with her plans and had implored she have a maid accompany her on the trip, but the very notion of extended carriage travel filled with a servant’s vociferous chatter caused Georgina to insist otherwise. Besides, Dina, her lady’s maid, was as talkative as an anxious magpie and the last thing Georgina needed was to be peppered with questions she could not or did not wish to answer.
Nevertheless, her father and mother had posed a strong argument and voiced a plethora of mishaps from a broken wheel axle to a rogue highwayman who would set upon the conveyance to rob Georgina’s virginity. She stifled an unrepentant smile at that suggestion.
She’d given her innocence freely to Luke and the experience sang within her still, glorious and cherished.
Surely she could manage. She’d survived without danger all those weeks ago when she’d fled to Coventry, rented a cottage and secured employment. Undoubtedly, she could manage now. Her parents could not argue the point. She’d won her independence. In this decision, at least.
Now she tried with relentless determination to discover a way out of the predicament. Her uncle’s decision to tie the family’s financial security into a marriage agreement for Lord Muller was dictatorial and unfair, and while she understood the desire to keep the Harwood title solvent, the edict brought anguish to all those involved, excepting Lord Muller, she supposed.
She summoned the remembrance of her favourite distraction, when Luke had climbed into her rooms and then into her bed. Even now it seemed a dream, some romantic story she created to help herself cope with the unfailing problems which suffocated and surrounded her. She’d almost confessed her love for him, but in the end kept the words quiet.
In the light of a new day, she wasn’t entirely sure why she hadn’t spoken them. It didn’t matter that they couldn’t be together. He should know her feelings. Perhaps she’d been unwilling to disrupt their intimacy with the declaration. It would surely h
ave begun a sincere conversation.
Wandering into the kitchen, she checked the cabinets for something to eat, hungry after the long ride in the hired coach. All the secrecy necessary to cloak her passage had proved redundant and infuriating. Vivienne and Max, Cole and Gemma, their lives seemed simpler at little sacrifice. What good was a title if an irate relative could use it to coerce and threaten at will?
A dull ache bloomed in her chest and she placed a fist over her heart as if it would forcefully evict her melancholy. She missed Luke. Two nights ago, when he’d shared her bed, smile wide, dimple complete, she’d lost the last stronghold on emotion. Over the time they’d spent together, through his actions, words and kisses, he’d captured every piece. How would she bear Lord Muller’s touch when she knew irrevocable passion in Luke’s embrace?
What a foolish woman she’d proved to run from an unavoidable fate. Cowardice taunted, she could continue to flee the circumstances and forsake London, her family and everything she knew. No doubt Joy, with her carefree outlook on life, would deal better with Lord Muller anyway.
But even as the idea materialized, she knew it inconceivable. Somehow the alternative caused despicable feelings of shame and disappointment she could stomach no better than the thought of Muller’s mouth on her own.
Biscuit’s yelp forced her attention and she got to her feet. Thankful for the diversion, she sunk to the floorboards and cuddled her now chubby pug atop her lap. Tomorrow she would visit Lord Tucker and explain the reason for her resignation, but for now she wouldn’t consider her life beyond.
Luke manipulated the metal pick inside the lock and waited for the inevitable click. Lord Muller was a haughty puff-gut who didn’t deserve the benevolent good fortune which befell him in the form of a will clause and codicil. He certainly didn’t deserve Georgina.
The lovely lady remained unaware of Luke’s plan, no matter the problem seemed easily solved as soon as he’d decided to resolve the impertinent issue preventing him from slipping a ring on her finger. He’d take the risk and gamble Georgina’s reaction because the thought of doing just that, proposing and planning a life filled with Nate’s daytime antics and Georgina’s nighttime kisses, caused his heart to pound with intense pleasure.
The Last Gamble Page 22
