In Search of Scandal (London Explorers #1)

by Susanne Lord

  His gaze traveled her body. “She loves me,” he muttered.

  She frowned at his unhappy words. Really, this was becoming a little insulting. Was it such a burden to be the object of her affection?

  But he continued undressing and she could not attend to the question. Quickly, too quickly, shoes, socks, shirt, and trousers were all stripped and laid aside until he stood before her. Naked.

  She stared, unable to breathe, unable to tear her gaze from him. He had been nude before for glimpses, peeks, but now…he stood, shoulders back and chin high, as if offering himself to her.

  Her heart swelled. He would bare himself as she’d bared herself. He was never meant to be a true husband, yet how often did he oblige her? And always so adorably grave and purposeful when he did.

  Shadows painted the corded muscle of his chest, his arms and legs, the hard plane of his abdomen drawn so taut above his manhood.

  Her gaze followed the dusting of hair on his chest down the narrow trail on his abdomen and lower to nestle against his thick flesh. And something animal within her wanted to repeat that descent with her fingers, then her lips.

  One powerful thigh was smooth where his bandages must have rubbed away the coarse hairs. Mottled patches on his calves matched those around his ankles. He’d explained they were merely leech scars. Merely…but she had read scores of them had attached to his legs in Burma and rendered him weak from loss of blood.

  There was so much of his life he didn’t share. Because he didn’t share his pain.

  He was so secretive and tormented and—oh goodness—naked and coming nearer.

  She stood still, not wanting to miss a thing. The look he wore was pure Will, determined and focused. She made to step back to keep him in sight, but large hands pressed her close. Through the crisp cotton of her clothes, his skin was hot.

  He was always hot. She used to worry he was feverish, but his embrace was familiar now. So familiar and so much theirs. His heat, his strength, his scent, the placement of his hands, the stubborn swirl of hair at his neckline, the curve of his ear, his kiss. He stroked her back idly and she imagined he could only be thinking the same of her.

  She bit her lip, wanting to speak, desperate to know what exactly he had in mind, but afraid he would stop if she did.

  His eyes roamed her face and softened with amusement at her mouth. He touched her chin. “Do you want to say something?”

  Not a word, Charlotte. Don’t even breathe, don’t—“Shall I take my dress off, too?”

  The smile in his eyes was incinerated in a flare of desire. He gripped the nape of her neck and kissed her, and the instant their lips met, his hold became aggressive. A strong hand cupped her bottom, crushing her to him, and though she could feel nothing of his male parts through her skirts, her heart leapt at the suggestion.

  No, the intent.

  How wonderful he was! He was going to pleasure her like he did before, she knew it!

  Wanting to touch him all over but not knowing where to start, she hugged his waist, her hands exploring the hard swell of his backside. But that light caress was cataclysmic. He stiffened and reared back, his gaze sharp and wary.

  No…this embrace was not familiar at all.

  This was different. Everything was different, even this passion. The same yearning and desire blazed between them, but Will was controlling the intensity with a new tenderness. A new responsibility.

  Because she had confessed her love.

  With a ragged breath, he cupped her cheek. “Right,” he said huskily. “Right.” He looked deep into her eyes. “Shall we take this dress off?”

  She smiled in agreement but he didn’t back away. He leaned closer.

  “Shall we take everything off?” But his eyes asked her something quite different.

  Her smile slipped. Belatedly, she nodded, too shocked to respond with anything more.

  Oh goodness. They were going to make love. Like a real woman, a real wife.

  With shaking fingers, she reached for her collar—but her dress buttoned in the back. “Oh, drat it!”

  She blushed at her unmeasured reaction but Will simply moved behind her, the brush of his fingers on her back making it difficult to breathe.

  The buttons popped free, her dress loosened, and the flounced muslin slipped over her crinoline. Will bent to take up the dress, as reverent as the finest lady’s maid, and she watched, transfixed, as the rear view of a perfect male specimen walked her dress to her wardrobe.

  He faced her, his head tilted to consider her in her underthings, and she was reminded to apply herself to the task at hand. Popping the button at her waist, the wire cage dropped to the floor in a chiming rattle. The sound stirred a smile from him and she was flooded with her aching love—overwhelming and hopeless as it was.

  She loved him so. He was her most intimate friend and he was offering himself as a husband, a true husband.

  The only one she would ever have.

  She reached behind her to loosen her corset laces and his eyes followed the progress.

  Enjoying his attention, she squeezed her breasts together and unhooked the front, flaunting her bosom—which she suspected he was partial to. He staggered a step closer, a sharp, interested light in his eye.

  Her shamelessness rewarded, she reached under her chemise to loosen the ribbons of her drawers and they slipped to the rug. He wet his lips, his lids sank, and his penis, standing rigid from his body, did the oddest thing.

  It twitched.

  Fascinated, she slowed her undressing. The thick length of him bobbed and swayed when she stepped from her slippers and removed her stockings, leaving her in only her chemise. What would his male parts do when she was naked?

  Without a moment’s hesitation, without nervousness or shame, she drew the undergarment over her head. Her gaze was aimed at his male parts before the chemise drifted to the floor, but when she would have her curiosity assuaged, she could no longer see. Will’s powerful body was before her and she was caught fast against him.

  “Will!” His hands were rough and he was never rough. How thrilling! She was being handled.

  “Have mercy, Charlotte.”

  Hard arms squeezed her too tight and his breath steamed her hair as if he were scenting her. It was animal, excited, and she could not escape.

  Or very likely she could not—she had no inclination to try.

  He dipped his head to whisper, “I’ve never seen anything like you, never anyone as beautiful as you.”

  And as she gloried in his wonderful words and he lowered his head to kiss her, his erection jerked between them.

  He grimaced and she could laugh again. Which she did, but only briefly—and really only a snicker as Will was sensitive. She buried her face against his neck and held tight, but her shoulders shook with suppressed giggles.

  He sighed and patted her back until her mirth subsided to a titter or two. “A nervous, less experienced man might find your amusement off-putting, you know.”

  “But not you.”

  His gaze drifted over her face fondly. “No, not me,” he murmured.

  He bent as if to kiss her, but instead lifted her off her feet and set her on the bed. She slid over and waited to see what he might do next. But patience was never one of her virtues. “What do I do? Should I do something?”

  He climbed in next to her. “Do you want to lie down?”

  She dropped to her back, sliding down the bed to better align their bodies, and reached to pull him atop her. Well, invite him atop her. She couldn’t pull Will anywhere. “Now what?”

  “Well.” A smile tugged at his lips, but he settled his weight carefully on her so they were eye to eye. Such a change from the days when he barely met her gaze. “I’d like to kiss you a bit.”

  She nodded, unable to think of one normal thing to say when he gathered her close and brushed kisses down her throat. The open lips and flicker of tongue marked her, then left her tingling with heat from his slow, passing breath. Strong hands lifted
her hips and he rocked gently against her sensitive folds to stoke her desire, coaxing a slick moisture from her.

  A sigh of pure contentment floated from her throat. Of course he knew what she liked. The pace and pressure matched the last time he had pleasured her. But she would not think of that night or how badly it had ended. At this moment, she felt cherished and loved. The latter was illusion, but she could pretend. She had three weeks of practice already.

  She circled her arms around his neck and savored his strong body, the rough thighs slid between her legs, the muscled hips dipped and rolled, retreated and surged, his hair flowed fluid and silky through her fingers.

  “Ah…so sweet…Charlotte…” His low whispers fell like waves crashing the shore of her body, submerging her. There was no air to breathe. Broad shoulders rose and filled her vision and blocked the light. The salt scent of their skin swirled in the space between their bodies. His hard body was so strong, his weight drove her into the mattress, and she wanted to keep sinking under him.

  But in the midst of all the feeling, even shuddering with pleasure and nearly blind with ecstasy, her thoughts floated to the surface. He was seducing her, enticing her, preparing her body to mate with his.

  Yet this was Will…her friend…

  And this felt so much like love…

  She didn’t want to think, to wonder, but she couldn’t stop. And she didn’t seem alone in her confusion.

  “You love me?” Will slowed the pace of his hips.

  “I do, I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  He kissed her, but when he raised his head, his eyes were clouded with some new worry and he stopped moving altogether. “This may hurt you. I don’t know how, I’ve never—I mean, not with a…and it’s been six years—”

  She pulled his head down and kissed him to silence. Will had not been distracted by the intimacy of their lovemaking; he was distracted by the burden of her virginity. She wanted to either giggle or groan at the reemergence of the man’s excessive caution, but she was a little afraid. Lucy had told her there was pain. And Will was large.

  Or at least he said he was.

  She giggled and he raised his head, his expression half fear, half hope. “Which male part is amusing you now?”

  “The same one.”

  “Right, of course it is,” he mumbled.

  “You told me you were larger than most, remember?”

  Will flushed, his eyes shy.

  “You realize I have no way of knowing if you were boasting?”

  He grinned but the amusement was faint in his eyes. She kissed him, trying to bring his attention back to ravishing her, but his mouth gentled and his weight was lifting off her.

  She placed his hand on her breast—he seemed to like them well enough—and instantly he cupped her but still he hesitated. He wouldn’t stop, would he? His erection still teased her and her blood simmered beneath her skin. Something had to happen soon. Honestly, how difficult could this be?

  With a welcoming tilt of her hips, she took his heated flesh in hand and angled the tip approximately where she thought it belonged and eased down.

  “Careful…Charlotte,” he said through clenched teeth, but he didn’t pull from her hold, even when she tried again.

  “Oh no.” She swept his tense face. “Will? How large are you?”

  He winced and grumbled something that sounded like, “Let me, love.”

  Fingers brushed between her legs and she felt him again—but lower, the new pressure surprising and not at all pleasant. He was too broad to breach her. “Oh. That’s”—awful—“odd.”

  His eyes swung to hers. “Odd? How odd?”

  “This doesn’t feel odd to you?”

  The shake of his head was quick and jerky. “No, sweetheart.” He collapsed onto his elbows, his cheeks damp with sweat. Could this slow exploration be difficult for him, too?

  He kissed her with bruising force before he seemed to master himself. “Will you let me in a little deeper, sweetheart? Can we see how odd that feels?”

  He waited, his powerful body poised above hers. She was glad she couldn’t see how he was meant to join with her, her imagination was alarming enough. She inhaled deep and nodded.

  His answering smile was tight, his eyes dismayed and yet hungry. She gasped when he pressed, so he massaged her where they joined. The steady, circling pressure diverted the pain, but despite his efforts, a small, choked sound escaped her throat and Will stilled.

  “Sorry,” he whispered, his voice ragged with regret.

  “No. This is fine.” She smiled through gritted teeth. “This is quite…ah…goodness…momentous, really. A woman’s rite of passage.”

  He didn’t look at all convinced. “That’s right, sweetheart.” He tucked against her neck, so she clenched her eyes and braced.

  “This reminds me,” he said. “Did I ever show you my yak-bone pipe?”

  Her grip eased on his biceps. “Your what?”

  “My opium pipe from China? Made from yak bone?”

  “I—? No, you’ve not shown me that.”

  He pushed up to look at her, his stiff penis propped rudely against her. “I thought I had.”

  “But you don’t smoke.”

  “No, I don’t smoke.” He began small, soothing circles where she ached, his eyes holding hers. “Are you sure? It’s about twelve inches? Bone? A little silver and turquoise?”

  “I’m—oh, that’s nice—I’m sure you didn’t. What made you think of it?”

  “It’s carved with scenes of men and women.” His lips caught her earlobe and tickled, his caressing fingers still drawing the heated moisture from the junction of her legs. “Erotic scenes.”

  “Like scrimshaw?”

  “Is that what they call it?” At her quick nod, he continued. “One carving’s a woman with three men and she’s—right, that’s why I didn’t show you.”

  “Three?” Dimly, she felt another stretching push.

  “Mm-hm.”

  “But how—”

  A burning pinch distracted her and then Will released a massive sigh, his powerful body relaxing on top of her. “There, love, there,” he grunted, dropping a kiss on her nose. “Your rite of passage.”

  “My…?” She reassessed their positions, feeling him deep inside her—“Oh.”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart.” But then he grinned and there was something distinctly wolflike about it.

  She smiled back—but through clenched teeth because the man was enormous and lodged inside her and this still hurt. Was this normal? Was there more pain to come? What was he feeling? There was much to ask, starting with, “Do you really have that pipe?”

  “Hmm?” The sound was low and guttered, rumbling against her neck as he nuzzled her.

  But Will held still. And she held still and slowly, slowly, he transformed and heated and filled her with the most extraordinary sensation. This completion was her husband, and he was joined with her as intimately as anyone could be.

  Her vision blurred with tears and she hugged him as tight as she could. His taut stomach flexed against her, her heartbeat quickened, and pleasure spiked through her body.

  “I love you,” she whispered, helplessly, hopelessly, because he would not say it back.

  She closed her eyes and his kiss brushed her cheek. She blinked her eyes dry and smiled at him. “What do we do now?”

  His eyes smiled. “Wait a moment. Maybe we’ll think of something.”

  He eased from her, her flesh clinging, and slid back in. This time, even seated fully as he was, the pain was fading…had faded. “Oh,” she whispered. “That’s nice.”

  He growled in agreement, his lids sinking, and did it again. And again. “All right?” The words were hoarse, delivered in a gasp of air.

  “Yes.” With every stroke, that lovely tension coiled, tighter and tighter, in the small of her back, between her thighs, suffusing her until she was sure he felt it too. “Oh, yes.”

  “Thank God,” he groaned.

&nb
sp; He stroked in her, rhythmic and shallow, bearing the weight of his body on his arms. But she wanted him hard and heavy and deep. She strained her hips high to meet his. “Please…more. Faster.”

  His jaw tensed. Locks of hair tumbled over his forehead. Powerful shoulders rolled over her, rising and falling, and all the while, his eyes locked on her and wouldn’t let go. “I…Charlotte, I…”

  But whatever he was going to say was lost. He plunged deeper but with control. Massive fists seized the pillow on either side of her head. His panting breath, the grunts like pain, washed the room with erotic sound. He slumped over her, and a hand trembling with restraint covered her breast and kneaded, surprising a cry of pleasure from her lips. At the sound, his mouth captured the other nipple and laved and suckled, greedy and possessing, demanding another moan from her lips.

  Her dream man becoming her lover…no wonder she never imagined it, it was unimaginable.

  He grunted her name again and again, the sounds barely human, so unlike his careful, controlled words. “I want—Charlotte…can’t…slow.”

  He pushed up onto his arms and there was no air to breathe. Not against the relentless pace of his pistoning hips. The rhythm, the long, driving, deliberate thrusts, demanded her pleasure climb higher and higher to some blissful height until there was nowhere to go except to leap.

  With a hoarse cry and a sinuous flex of his back, he held himself inside her. The deep thrust shattered her, shocked her into flight, and she was weightless and falling.

  Awareness returned in a rush. Will’s weight dropped on her and he held her hips immobile and plunged, over and over. His muscles quivered violently, restraining the power of his body even now. Hard grunts crowded the few words he delivered in her ear. “Ah…my God…Charlotte…so good…”

  She understood. Oh goodness, she understood! She hugged him tight, too dazzled, too moved to do anything else, until he arched atop her, his body seizing to stillness, then collapsed on top of her.

  Astonishing…it was astonishing. An adventure all her own. He was an explorer. Driving her to the end of the world and delivering her a new one.