Touch Me

by Jacquie D'Alessandro

  After he’d touched her.

  Genevieve closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the cool glass, recalling the unforgettable sensation of his fingertips brushing over her shoulder. So light a caress to inspire such heat within her. She should have left then. But she’d been enjoying his company and the admiration and want in his eyes. It had been so long since she’d been desired, felt desirable. It had been so long since she’d experienced the longing tug, the yearning of sensual need. So, instead of listening to her better judgment, she’d simply shifted away from his touch and stayed, basking in his attention.

  But then he’d laid his hand over hers, and she’d frozen, shocked by the unexpected touch. No one had touched her hands in a year. Fear had momentarily paralyzed her. Could he feel the swollen joints beneath her gloves? Did he know the ugliness that marred her? Would the disfigurement that had caused Richard to reject her affect him similarly? The warmth of his hand over hers penetrated the soft leather, melting her fear with a fire that seemed to engulf her, filling her with the overwhelming need to touch him in return, feel his hands on her, and hers on him. Those unwanted, dangerous needs would ultimately only lead to hurt and rejection. And she’d had enough of those to last a lifetime.

  But then why, why couldn’t she banish this man from her thoughts? Why could she not rid her mind of the unwanted fantasies he inspired? She pictured herself coming naked to his bed…of having him naked in hers. Kissing, touching, exploring—her hands were perfect as they glided over his body. She should be sleeping in her own bed right now, not pacing the floor with her skin on fire and her heart beating in rapid, hard punches against her ribs. She pressed her thighs together to relieve the insistent ache between her legs, but the friction only served to frustrate her further.

  There was only one way to relieve the tension gripping her—a soak in the hot springs. She lifted her head and glanced at the mantel clock. It was just after midnight, but that didn’t matter. She often visited the springs late at night, when the pain in her hands prevented her from sleeping. Tonight she suffered from a different sort of ache, one she hoped a good soaking would diminish.

  She kicked off her slippers, replacing them with sturdier boots, then she grabbed the small pistol she kept hidden in her wardrobe. She’d never been threatened in any way, either by a person or an animal during her nocturnal visits to the springs, but better to be careful than sorry. She hurried down the stairs and pulled her cloak from the brass rack by the door. After donning the garment and slipping the pistol in the pocket, she silently left the house. Not that silence was needed. Baxter’s quarters occupied the far corner of the cottage, and he always slept as if he’d been hit on the head with an anvil. Just as well; she knew he would strenuously object to her visiting the springs at night alone. Still, what he didn’t know, he couldn’t worry about.

  The moon provided a bright, silvery light, but she could have navigated the familiar route through the thick copses of trees without it. She breathed in the cool, crisp air and immediately felt a layer of tension slide from her shoulders. After a brisk five-minute walk, she arrived. Surrounded on three sides by an outcropping of rocks that provided privacy, the circular spring wasn’t large, no more than eight feet in diameter, the water only deep enough to reach her shoulders. A submerged natural ledge curved around a three-foot section close to the rocks, providing a perfect seat. Genevieve shed her gloves, cloak, robe and boots, leaving her clad only in a chemise. After setting her pistol within easy reach next to her bundle of clothing, she stepped down into the heated water.

  She settled herself on the stone seat and breathed out a long, satisfied aaaahhhh as the bubbling warmth surrounded her. The heat brought instant relief to her hands which she slowly flexed, and after several minutes the tightness in her limbs gave way to a delicious languor. Her eyes slid closed and she concentrated on emptying her mind of everything save the soothing sensation of the water lapping around her. Unfortunately, images of exactly what she was desperately trying to forget rose in her mind’s eye…Mr. Cooper. Joining her at the springs. His green eyes devouring her as he entered the water. His body pressed against hers, relieving all the throbbing aches he inspired.

  With a groan, Genevieve spread her legs and pulled up her chemise to her waist. The bubbling water caressed her exposed, aroused sex, but it wasn’t enough to alleviate her discomfort. She skimmed one hand over her stomach, between her thighs and separated her swollen folds, while her other hand cupped her breast. With a deep sigh, she imagined it was his hands bringing her pleasure, circling, fondling, tugging, rubbing, delving. A low moan escaped her and her head fell back. She spread her legs wider and raised her hips, desperately seeking the relief that remained just out of reach. She was a single breath away from her climax when she heard a loud crashing in the underbrush, followed by a string of curses uttered in a deep, masculine voice.

  Her eyes popped open. She saw no one in the surrounding woods, but the voice was close by. Heart pounding, she reached for her pistol.

  “Bloody hell, come back here.” The man’s call broke through the trees, followed by the blur of an animal. A heartbeat later a tall figure skidded to a stop at the small clearing containing the spring. Indeed, he halted barely before he would have fallen into the water.

  “What the devil—”

  Clearly the intruder saw her pistol because his words cut off and he slowly raised his hands. Genevieve looked up to where he stood illuminated in a streak of silvery moonlight and was about to inform him that she wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him if he came any closer when recognition hit her.

  “Mr. Cooper?”

  Her relief that it wasn’t some stranger or footpad was quickly tempered by the heat that flooded her. Dear God, she’d just been fantasizing about him, thoughts that had left her teetering on the brink of orgasm. Now here he stood, looking tall and strong and masculine, slightly disheveled and far too delicious by half.

  At the sound of his name his gaze snapped up from the pistol to her face. And he blinked. “Mrs. Ralston. What are you doing here?”

  Genevieve’s brows shot upward. “I believe that’s what I should ask you, seeing as you’re trespassing on my property.”

  “And I’ll be delighted to tell you—as soon as you put down your weapon. Unless you plan to shoot me?”

  “You’re fortunate I didn’t.”

  Now his brows rose. “Do you know how to use that thing?”

  She smiled sweetly. “Perfectly. Would you care for a demonstration?”

  “Ah, no. Happy to take your word for it. Now if you wouldn’t mind…” He gave the pistol a pointed look then jerked his head toward the rim of the spring.

  “You seem a bit unsettled, Mr. Cooper.”

  “Do I? No doubt because I’m surprised. I wasn’t anticipating having a pistol pointed at me.” His gaze swept over her. “Or running across a wet, naked woman.”

  Heat that had nothing to do with the warm water rippled through Genevieve. Raising her chin she informed him, “I’m not naked.”

  “How…unfortunate.” He gave the pistol another pointed stare. “I assure you that weapon isn’t necessary.”

  She slowly set the pistol aside, fighting her reluctance to do so. Even though she didn’t believe he meant her any harm, releasing the cool metal rendered her vulnerable, especially given her lack of clothing and the fact that she was up to her shoulders in water.

  After placing the weapon next to her pile of clothing, she quickly submerged her hands and glared up at him, anger replacing her surprise. “You nearly startled me out of my skin. What are you doing here?” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you spying on me?”

  “No.” His gaze skimmed over her, lingering for several seconds on the swell of her breasts visible above the bubbling water before returning to her eyes. “Although had I known I’d make such a delightful discovery, I would have—”

  “Spied on me?” she asked in her most scathing voice.

  “Arrived here soone
r.”

  His quiet words hung in the air between them, momentarily stealing Genevieve’s ability to speak. If he’d arrived any sooner, or with any sort of stealth, he would have seen her pleasuring herself. Her nipples hardened at the thought and she scooted down a bit lower.

  “You still haven’t explained your presence, Mr. Cooper.” Botheration, instead of sounding annoyed, she sounded absolutely breathless.

  “Beauty,” he said, nodding toward the edge of the spring. Genevieve turned. His mischievous puppy stood next to her pile of clothing, tongue lolling, tail wagging. Upon hearing her name, Beauty barked twice.

  “That beast has run me all over Little Longstone,” Mr. Cooper said. “She managed to chew through her lead and led me on a merry chase that brought me here.”

  As he spoke, Beauty let out a huge yawn, circled twice, then settled herself atop Genevieve’s clothing and closed her eyes.

  “Oh, that’s rich,” Mr. Cooper said, his voice half amused, half aggravated. “I’ve trotted over half the kingdom trying to catch up with that imp, and now she decides to take a nap.” He shot the sleepy puppy an exasperated look. “Why couldn’t you have decided to do this several miles ago?”

  Genevieve pressed her lips together to suppress her amusement. “Exercise is good for both the body and the spirit, Mr. Cooper.”

  “Yes, in the morning or afternoon. Or even the early evening. At midnight, however, it is merely an aggravation.” He scowled at his pet who’d already fallen asleep, then shifted his attention back to Genevieve. “Would you like a dog?”

  She laughed at his disgruntled tone. “No, thank you. If I brought home a puppy, I’m certain Sophia would be most displeased.”

  “Would you like to trade pets?”

  “I’m almost tempted to agree just to call your bluff. You adore that puppy and you know it.”

  “Now I do. She’s an angel when she’s sleeping.”

  “What happened to the man who enjoyed a challenge?”

  “He’s right here—out of breath from all the running he’s done after that mischievous beast…and looking at you.” He moved to the edge of the spring and crouched down, resting his forearms on his knees. “And what an exquisite view it is. Now it’s your turn. What are you doing here?”

  “Surely that is obvious. I’m taking the waters.”

  “At this time of night?” He looked around. “Alone?”

  “I often take the waters at night. It helps me to sleep. And I was alone—until you and Beauty crashed into the clearing.”

  He lowered one arm and dipped his fingertips into the water. “Baxter isn’t nearby to protect you?”

  “No.”

  “As protective as he is of you, I can only assume he doesn’t know you’re here.”

  “No, he doesn’t. Not that it’s any of his concern. Or yours. I have my pistol for protection. But this isn’t London, Mr. Cooper. There aren’t footpads lurking in the shadows. Indeed, this is the first time I’ve ever encountered anyone on one of my nocturnal visits.”

  “So you do this often—come here at night?”

  She pulled her gaze away from the oddly arousing sight of his long fingers slowly circling the surface of the water and hiked up her chin another notch. “As a matter of fact I do, yes.”

  “And you came tonight because you couldn’t sleep.” His soft, husky words were a statement rather than a question.

  “Yes. That and the fact that the weather is perfect for a brisk walk and a soak.”

  “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

  Because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. Imagining you touching me. Kissing me. Making love to me. Because the desire I feel for you is so overwhelming, I can barely think properly. “No particular reason. I just have a great deal on my mind.”

  “Something we have in common. I couldn’t sleep either. That is why I thought to take Beauty for a walk—to tire us both out.”

  She arched a glance toward the sleeping dog. “It worked very well for Beauty.”

  “Yes. Not so well for me.”

  Silence swelled between them. His eyes glittered and his hand kept drawing those slow, hypnotic circles in the water. Genevieve had to fight to keep her breathing slow and steady under his unwavering regard. Her better judgment coughed to life, demanding she tell him to leave. Immediately. But she couldn’t seem to force the words from her suddenly dry throat. Indeed, all she could do was stare back at him. And wonder if he was experiencing this same stifling tension and profound attraction that was all but suffocating her.

  His gaze flicked to his circling hand. “The water feels good. Warm.”

  She nodded and forced out the only word she could manage. “Yes.”

  His gaze burned into hers. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I couldn’t sleep?”

  She had to swallow twice to locate her voice, and even then it only came out in a whisper. “Why couldn’t you sleep?”

  “Because of you.” He sat down on the ledge and yanked off one of his low boots. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He tossed the boot aside, peeled off his stocking, then applied himself to his other boot.

  She gaped at his bare foot. She opened her mouth to speak—only to discover that her jaw was hanging open. “Wh-what are you doing?”

  “Telling you why I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, all I saw was your face. Your smile. Your eyes. Do you have any idea how extraordinary your eyes are?”

  “No—”

  “They’re the most gorgeous shade of blue I’ve ever seen. Like a cloudless sky on a summer day. And those gold flecks in them…stunning. And so expressive.” He tossed aside the second boot and stocking. “But they’re not always. Sometimes they’re frustratingly difficult to read—”

  “No, I meant what are you doing with your boots.”

  “Oh. I’m removing them.”

  “Yes, I see that. But why?”

  “They’re old favorites and I’d prefer not to ruin them.” He rose and shrugged his jacket from his shoulders. Then began untying his cravat.

  “Now what are you doing?”

  “Removing my cravat.”

  “Again, I must ask why.”

  “Because I cannot remove my shirt without doing so. You did say the water felt nice.”

  “It does, but…”

  Her words died when he pulled his shirt from his snug breeches and yanked the garment over his head.

  Oh, my. Simon Cooper might not like to exercise at midnight, but his body gave testament to the fact that he partook of physical activities at other times. Her stupefied gaze traveled over his broad chest, thick and well-defined with muscle and covered with a shading of crisp ebony hair that tapered into a thin ribbon and bisected his ridged abdomen, a fascinating trail that her avid gaze followed until it was obscured by the waistband of his breeches. The impressive bulge pressing against the front of the snug black material gave proof that she wasn’t alone in her desires.

  Before she could pull a breath into her stalled lungs, he moved to the edge of the spring.

  “Wh-what are you doing now?”

  He slipped into the water. “I’m joining you.”

  9

  HIS WORDS sucked the oxygen from Genevieve’s lungs. She stared transfixed as Mr. Cooper, with his gaze steady on hers and bubbles foaming around his ribcage, slowly swished his arms through the water. The play of muscles in his powerful shoulders flexed with the movement, lulling her into a trance, rendering her incapable of doing anything save stare. Surely she should say something, demand he stop, but the only words rushing into her throat were Oh, my, you are magnificent. Indeed, she had to press her lips together to prevent herself from saying them out loud.

  “You’re right,” he said, his husky voice rippling a heated tremor through her. “It does feel good.”

  Oh. Dear. God. She pressed her spine against the rock ledge to hold herself upright lest she slither beneath the surface of the water from a combination of surprise, apprehension and de
sire so strong it threatened to choke her. She yanked herself from the stupor into which she’d fallen and lifted to chin. “That was merely a statement of fact, Mr. Cooper. Not an invitation.”

  “Wasn’t it?” He moved slowly toward her and she shrank farther into the shadows. “I think it was. Because there’s something between us. Something I’ve felt since the first moment I saw you. A desire so strong I can barely think properly.”

  His words, which so precisely mirrored her own thoughts just moments ago, halted her breath. All she could think was, Thank God, it’s not just me.

  He stopped directly in front of her, then braced his hands on the stone ledge on either side of her, caging her in. Mere inches separated their bodies, a distance that simultaneously felt far too close and not nearly close enough. Genevieve sent up a silent prayer of thanks for the darkness and shadows. Although she tried to arrange her features into a cool mask, she doubted her ability to fully hide her desire for him.

  “Can you look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel it, too?” His gaze searched hers. Looking into his compelling eyes she felt as if she were falling into an abyss.

  Dear God, how could she deny it? She hadn’t felt need this profound since…she couldn’t recall. Had she ever? Heaven help her, she didn’t know. Yet to admit it would set her on a course she wasn’t prepared to take.

  Or was she? It was dark…dark enough to hide her hands, and the water would do the same. He wouldn’t be able to see them, wouldn’t know…and therefore wouldn’t have any reason to reject her.

  Did she dare?

  Before she could decide, he leaned forward until his lips hovered a mere hairbreadth above hers. His scent surrounded her, a delicious combination of soap, warm skin and a hint of sandalwood.

  “Do you feel it?” he whispered. The words resembled a growl and blew warmth across her lips. “Bloody hell, say something. Tell me it’s not just me who feels this.”

  A shudder of raw, naked wanting wracked her, shaking her with its intensity, and all the reasons she should push him away faded into oblivion. “It’s not just you,” she whispered back.