He’d given her indescribable pleasure twice now, some kind of otherworldly miracle she hadn’t even known her body was capable of experiencing. But she wasn’t doing this solely for herself. He’d also been denied the sensual union they’d both wanted all these years.
She smiled and a surge of feminine power seized her as she leaned up on one elbow and pressed him back against the mattress. Then she slowly moved atop him, never breaking contact with his hot gaze. To her surprise, he capitulated, stretching his arms above his head, giving himself over to her completely. She kissed him deeply, enough to draw the breath from him. Then she moved down his body, the same path of delight and promise as he had hers, showering kisses on his taut abdomen until she reached the apex of his thighs. His long, hard manhood stood out from the dark hair there. She wrapped her fist around it just as she’d done at the creek.
He groaned and closed his eyes. “Erienne.”
She felt drunk with the power her touch had over him. They’d never been like this before. Naked, carefree, able to do whatever they wanted to each other, however they wanted to do it. She intended to take full advantage of this freedom.
She lowered herself until her mouth hovered over his member. Then her tongue darted out to lick the tip. His big, strong body shuddered. She smiled to herself.
She touched her tongue to the tip again, but this time, she slid her mouth over it too, sucked a little, and instantly realized she’d discovered something astonishing and perhaps primal. His body gave a wild buck and shiver, a helpless sound rumbling in his throat.
Which had to mean that he’d liked it.
“Tell me what to do to you, Collin,” she whispered fervently, letting his hot, hard flesh slip from her lips to slide along her cheek. “Tell me what you want.”
* * *
Collin flicked open his eyes and stared down at Erienne. He’d never felt such overwhelming desire. His dreams had never been this good. Erienne was in bed with him, nude and wanting him. No one would stop them. She’d asked him to show her what he wanted. That was a dream come true.
He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he merely took her hand and folded her fingers around his cock. Those cool, smooth, graceful fingers. Their touch nearly set him off like an untried lad. He swallowed and refocused, then guided her touch into a gentle slide, up and down.
Erienne caught on quickly, and soon his guiding hand fell away to clench itself into a fist at his side, his entire body poised on the edge of a climax, controlled only by his will to revel in having her and this moment.
And all the while, she watched her own ministrations in wide-eyed wonder, a smile of joy and marvel on her lips, as though finally awakened to the intimate gifts she could offer.
When his breath tore in ragged pants from his throat and his hips were pushing to meet every downward slip of her hand, he grabbed her fingers and pulled them away. But she’d already learned what he liked, and she quickly swept in to substitute her mouth, sucking him, resuming the devastating caress of a moment before with her lips, tongue, and even the slight graze of her teeth.
Collin clutched the pillow on either side of his head and bit the inside of his cheek hard, anything to keep from coming. He wanted to make love to her the right way, to feel her body quicken again, to bring her to climax again, to make her cry out his name. But he couldn’t summon the will to pull her mouth away from his aching cock.
Ah, God. Just one moment more. Just one sweet moment more. Or two.
Erienne clenched his cock in her fist and dragged her lips up and down the length, her tongue mapping the ridges and texture of him. When she took the tip into her mouth again, as deeply as she could, his hips arched off the mattress and nearly tumbled her off the bed.
“Jesus,” he groaned, and with that, he broke the spell, grasped her around the waist and drew her fully atop him, at last regaining control.
They rolled on the mattress until she was beneath him again, and he settled in the cradle between her legs.
“I want you,” he said, kissing her cheek, her ear, her neck.
“I want you too,” she breathed, tilting her head back to grant him better access to her tender skin.
Collin lifted on one knee, nudged her thighs farther apart, and positioned himself above her, his cock probing her wet heat. “Are you certain, Erienne?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “Take me.”
He closed his eyes, and without preamble slid slowly but determinedly into her wet warmth.
Halfway, he paused, reading the stutter of her exhalations against his ear, counting the wild hammer of her heartbeats against his own chest. He let his lips wander over her cheek, her mouth, her forehead.
Comforting. Waiting.
Only when her fingertips, which had been digging hard into the muscles of his back, relaxed ever so slightly, did he give a last firm thrust and sink to the hilt within her.
He lifted his head to read her features. “Did it hurt?” he asked softly.
She rolled her eyes thoughtfully, as though considering. “Just a pinch.” Then she smiled.
That humor faded into pleasure-pain when he began to move inside her. She moaned, her lashes slid closed, and soon her limbs encircled him, holding him closer as his hips levered against hers, pushing, pressing, arching against her.
It took every ounce of discipline not to come, but he was determined to know the rise and quake of her body in climax yet again. His hand slid between them and he found the flashpoint of her pleasure with a single fingertip, drawing circles, drawing her toward ecstasy, even as he balanced on the edge of his own completion.
At last—and far more quickly than he could have guessed it could happen—Erienne’s hands clenched against his shoulders and she arched beneath him. Her entire body went rigid, her ragged pants momentarily silent, and then she came in a rush, shuddered wildly, and cried his name against his ear.
Only when her limbs slackened around him did he let his body drive itself inside her as it sought by nature, pumping into her again and again, until he too, was swept into sweet oblivion.
They lay like the dead for a long minute, each struggling to regain breath, each loath to draw apart, though perspiration made their skin slick and sticky, and Collin’s arm had gone numb beneath Erienne’s back.
At last she shifted a little beneath him, and he slipped to the side and instantly regained their embrace, wrapped his arms around her, and rested his head in the fragrant crook of her neck. A huge, exhausted sigh escaped both of them simultaneously, one of satiation, a release of years of wanting and tension and grief and confusion. It was all behind them now. He never wanted to let her go again.
He would tell her in the morning.
Chapter Seventeen
One single, piercing band of sunlight streamed through the window, hitting Collin in the eye and waking him. He stretched and yawned, and then ... Damn. He was still in Erienne’s bed, and it was morning. He would have to leave immediately and be careful about it. He quickly rolled over to reach for her … and found the space beside him empty and cold.
He pushed himself up and frowned. Where was she? Had she gone to be with the children? It wasn’t that late, was it? He scrubbed a hand over his face, squinting to see the clock on the mantelpiece. It was barely after six. Surely she wasn’t with the children at this hour. Besides, if she’d gone to be with them, why hadn’t she wakened him and asked him to leave?
A piece of paper on the nightstand caught his eye. It was folded. Edging himself up against the headboard, he grabbed the paper and scanned it. A smaller bit of paper floated out to land on the coverlet. He ignored it for the moment.
C,
I had to go. I cannot allow your lovely sister-in-law to do more for me than she already has. I never should have come here in the first place. Last night was beautiful, and I’ll cherish it forever. I hope you will too.
E
He cursed under his breath. Damn. Damn. Damn. She’d gone. But why? He’d thought she wanted
him. He’d thought she’d changed her mind.
He picked up the tiny piece of paper on the coverlet. Let me go.
Bloody hell. He clenched his jaw. Apparently, he’d thought wrong.
* * *
One hour later, Collin was cleaned, dressed, and sitting in the breakfast room with Derek. Of course, he couldn’t let on that he knew Erienne was gone, but it was all he could think about. He hadn’t said more than two words to his brother since they’d begun their meal.
Why had she left? He’d assumed she wanted more than just a night with him. How could he have been so wrong? He was a bloody spy, for Christ’s sake. Trained to pick up on the tiniest fluctuations in people’s voice and mannerisms, their slightest hesitations, their smallest clues. How the hell had he completely misread the situation with Erienne?
But damn it. He already knew. He’d always misread Erienne because the depth of his feelings for her clouded his judgment.
Lucy came bustling into the room. “Miss Stone is gone.” Her voice held a mixture of anger, frustration, and a hint of accusation.
“What?” Derek frowned.
Lucy crossed her arms over her chest. “Erienne left a note under my bedchamber door saying she never should have accepted this position, and that she was awfully sorry but she was heading back to London. Apparently, one of the groomsmen took her to the coaching station early this morning.”
Lucy and Derek both looked at Collin, who continued to shove the eggs around his plate in silence.
“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about why she left, would you, Collin?” Lucy finally asked, her hands on her hips.
“Should I?” he drawled, making eye contact with his sister-in-law.
“I’d be surprised if you didn’t,” she replied, arching a brow.
Collin clenched his jaw and tossed down his fork. “Perhaps Erienne was right. Perhaps she never should have accepted this position in the first place.” He knew his words sounded cruel and callous, but at the moment he didn’t care. He was bloody furious with Erienne for leaving without telling him she intended to go. He’d at least spoken to her in person when he’d given her up all those years ago. They weren’t children any longer. This was serious.
“What did you say to upset her?” Lucy demanded.
“Why do you assume she left because of me?” Collin snapped.
“Enough.” Derek’s voice shot through the room like a crack of thunder. “I think we all can agree this situation was fraught from the start. I’m sorry if any of us caused Miss Stone pain.”
“Too late for that,” Lucy mumbled.
Collin narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She tossed a hand in the air, a gesture of utter impatience. “Erienne is gone, Collin. Aren’t you going to do something about it?”
“Would you like me to review the letters from the other governess applicants?” Collin countered.
Lucy turned on her heel and stalked from the room. “Men!” she called as she went. “You can all be so exasperatingly obtuse!”
Chapter Eighteen
Erienne glanced around the sad little flat that a perfectly pleasant woman named Mrs. Cartwright had just finished showing her. The tour hadn’t taken long—the flat consisted of only one room. It contained a bed with a lumpy-looking mattress and two doubtfully clean pillows. Two rickety chairs and a small, equally rickety table. A tiny kitchen with a stove that looked questionable at best, and a ramshackle wardrobe pushed against the far wall that sat askew, one of its wooden legs missing.
The space was all Erienne could afford with her savings from her position with the Hilltops. She’d sent the rest of her money home for Peter, and she hadn’t stayed with Derek and Lucy long enough to collect wages. After leaving them so suddenly, she didn’t deserve either their money or their reference.
Erienne glanced around the room again. It was a far cry from her gorgeous suite at Huntingdon, and it smelled like a mixture of dust and mold. Tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she blinked them away. “I’ll take it,” she informed Mrs. Cartwright. The woman smiled and nodded.
Erienne handed the older woman the money for one week’s rent, and Mrs. Cartwright handed her the key to her dubious new home.
“I’ll just ask the coachman ta bring up yer trunk then,” the woman said as she headed for the door.
All Erienne could do was nod. “Thank you,” she finally managed.
The door closed behind Mrs. Cartwright, and Erienne wrapped her arms over her middle. She’d felt empty and awful the entire ride back to London, and she wasn’t feeling any better now that she’d secured lodging for the night.
She would miss little Lady Mary and cute little Ralph. Hopefully Anna wasn’t too put out by her leaving so suddenly, or for that matter, Lucy. Lucy had been so kind to her. The duchess fancied herself a matchmaker. She’d done her best to bring Erienne and Collin back together—but sometimes things were better left in the past. It was a difficult lesson, one that Erienne was just beginning to learn.
Leaving had been the right thing to do. At least she’d decided that much on her long, bumpy ride back from the countryside. She was certain she’d made the correct choice. So why did she feel so ... sad? She’d had to leave. Because she knew, without a doubt, that Collin would let her go again. Just as he had the first time, without any attempt to stop her, and ultimately that was why they shouldn’t be together. True love didn’t let go. And Collin had let go. Twice now, by her count.
His work had been more important to him than she was the first time. Perhaps his pride was what would keep him away this time, but it didn’t matter the reason. Whatever his excuse, the result was the same. Collin didn’t love her enough to fight for her, and he never had. It was sad and unfortunate, but it was true.
She hadn’t left to test him. Never that. She’d left because she knew in her bones that she never should have accepted the position as governess in Lucy and Derek’s house in the first place. She’d known it was wrong and she’d taken it regardless, out of greed for the wages she’d been promised, but even more, hoping to catch a glimpse of Collin or at least hear some news.
Now she’d done far more than that.
She’d left for another reason as well. She never in a thousand years wanted Collin to think she’d spent the night with him because she expected more from him than that. There was no better way to make it clear. She hadn’t been attempting to force an offer from him or to appeal to his sense of guilt or duty. She wanted him as a woman wants a man, and she’d been telling the truth when she wrote him the good-bye letter telling him she’d never forget last night. She would cherish the memory forever. It was all she’d have of him for the rest of her life.
Now she needed to get about the business of once again forgetting the past and moving on with the future, her maxim. Even if it would be twice as difficult this time around.
First things first. Once she was settled here, she’d pay a visit to Mrs. Griggs and attempt to explain the situation in person. Perhaps if Erienne was convincing, her employer might take pity on her for leaving Huntingdon and send her for an interview at another house.
She would get through this minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day, but no matter what, she wouldn’t think of Collin Hunt. She would not.
And she refused to have any regrets.
Chapter Nineteen
Darkness had fallen when a knock on the door to her flat startled Erienne. She’d started off trying to unpack her trunk, but instead she’d been staring blindly into the rickety wardrobe, lost in thought. She shook herself, made her way over to the door, and called, “Who is it?”
London could be a dangerous place for a lone female, and although she was a confirmed spinster and traveled without a maid, she wasn’t about to open the door to just anyone, especially at night.
“It’s Lucy Hunt. May I come in?”
Erienne let out a startled gasp and then immediately clapped her hands over her mouth, praying the duch
ess hadn’t heard the noise.
Drat. She hated to allow a woman as grand as the Duchess of Claringdon to see the pathetic flat she’d taken. Of course, if Lucy had made it this far into the building, no doubt she already had a good guess as to how wretched the interior would be.
Erienne immediately unlocked the door and swung it open.
There stood the duchess, in her fine kid boots and traveling coat, wearing an expression that could only be described as both guilty and regretful. “May I come in?” she asked softly.
“Of course.”
Erienne moved aside and Lucy stepped past her into the space. She didn’t betray her thoughts as to the look of the place, but Erienne’s cheeks heated with shame nonetheless. “Your grace—”
“Now, none of that,” the duchess replied. “I asked you to call me Lucy, and I expect you always to call me Lucy.”
“Very well. Lucy.” Erienne motioned to the small table and chairs, the only place to sit. Without hesitation, Lucy strolled over and took a seat as though they were visiting in the finest salon. The duchess beckoned to Erienne to take the seat beside her.
Erienne did so while making a helpless gesture. “I’d offer to take your coat and hat and provide tea, but—”
“No need. I don’t intend to stay long.”
Erienne took a deep breath. “I’m sorry you felt you had to come all the way from the country to find me. I left a note.”
“I read it,” Lucy replied. “I tracked you down by asking the coachman at the posting house where you’d gone.”
Erienne nodded. “I’m sorry, Lucy. Truly I am. I just couldn’t—”
“Dear, it is I who owes you an apology. As my husband likes to point out, at times I can be a bit … overzealous in my quest to ensure true love has its chance.” She leaned forward to capture Erienne’s gaze. “I fear, in this case, I failed you.”
Mr. Hunt, I Presume: A Playful Brides Story Page 9
