by Reid, Stacy
Somehow, she ended up draped halfway across his lap, her fingers clutched tightly in his hair, and his hands, dear Lord, his hands were sliding her dress up her thighs with shocking and exciting boldness.
He released her mouth to press kisses against her shoulder, her chin, down to the sensitive hollow of her throat. Richard shifted with her, lowering her back onto the cushions, splitting her legs open and moving between them, predatory heat glowing in his eyes. A wild, dangerous charge emanated from him, lighting every nerve in her body. She trembled with the instinct to surrender to his magnetic pull. An unfamiliar sensation fluttered low in her stomach, and a sharp tremor of uncertainty quivered through her.
His fingers trailed with alarming intent up the inside of her legs to her thighs, leaving fire in their wake. Evie was grateful for the semi darkness of the carriage, certain her entire body was blushing red. The teasing strokes of his fingers as they dragged along the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs had the sweetest pressure building between her legs.
“I ache…Richard.” Her voice was a whisper, but it elicited an answering groan from deep in his throat.
“Here?” he murmured, cupping her in a place she had never been touched.
Evie bucked and shivered at the piercing arousal that stabbed low in her stomach. “Yes,” she said on a sob.
His wicked fingers parted her and touched the intimate heart of her. She froze, panting, as unknown sensations erupted deep inside.
A ragged groan burst from him. “You’re so wet.” With a tender glide of his fingertip, he stroked over her aching folds with delicacy.
Her breathing fractured and her mind muddled. He shifted, pushing her knees up and splaying her wantonly wide. His head dipped, and she jerked in acute shock to feel the waft of his breath across her core. “Rich…Richard?” she stuttered and unsuccessfully tried to clamp her legs closed.
His powerful forearms, which held her splayed open, prevented her action. He nipped at her thigh, causing her to whimper with the edge of pleasure-pain.
“Hold still,” he commanded tenderly.
The provocative stab of his tongue against her wet sex sent shockwaves of delight through her blood. Sweet heavens. This cannot be decent. Unexpected hunger crawled over her skin with wicked heat. She moaned and twisted, suddenly hotter than she could bear. His tongue was a soothing glide over her pulsating flesh, and the onslaught of sensations was overwhelming.
Her entire body quaked. “Richard!”
His tongue licked over her, teasing her aching swollen nub. Evie almost jackknifed from the carriage seat, her breath escaping in shuddering gasps. He raked his teeth over her straining nub, then licked it hard. She whimpered and rocked against his face, lost in pleasure, straining for an elusive bliss that had her stomach twisted into an aching knot of need.
There was a lurch as the carriage rolled over a bump in the road. Richard stopped his maddening torment and sat up, tugging her dress down. Evie felt fevered, restless, and desperate for the ache to be assuaged. “Richard?” she asked, hating the tremble of uncertainty in her voice.
He shifted the blinds of the carriage, and a curse slipped from him. She sat in a daze as he thrust his head through the window and commanded the coachman to another location. He settled back, his piercing gaze studying every nuance of her face. Her gaze dipped to the front of his trousers where an impressive bulge had made itself evident.
She leaned forward and touched his thigh lightly. “Rich—”
“Do not touch me, Evie,” he all but snarled. “I cannot resist you, and so help me God, I will not take you in a damn carriage.”
She snatched her hand away as if a bee had stung her, blinking back confused tears. “I…I feel so needy, but I do not know what I need,” she confessed shakily. “I throb there.”
A harsh groan and then another curse slipped from him. “Close your eyes,” he commanded.
“Why?”
“Evie,” he growled. “Close your damn eyes.”
His profanities were shocking, the hunger in his gaze equally intimidating and thrilling. Evie was unable to comply. “Whatever you need to do…I want to watch.”
His eyes darkened dangerously, entrapping her attention and holding her still. A blush worked itself along her body when he loosened the front flap of his breeches and…a sturdy stalk sprang forth. Oh God. Heat flushed through her, but she could not look away. He was so hard and beautiful. He fished a handkerchief from his pockets, gripped that thick stalk in a tight fist, and with three strong and violently sensual strokes, his hips jerked, and a raw groan of need pulsed into the carriage.
The raw intimacy of what he was doing enthralled Evie’s senses, and a startling rush of need arrowed down to her aching core. Unable to help herself, she rubbed her thighs together, even squeezing them closer. She needed to be touched, held, anything to relieve the pressure stabbing her insides with cold fire.
As if he understood, Richard tucked himself back into his pants and stuffed the handkerchief into his top pocket. “Come here,” he said soothingly, drawing her onto his lap. “I had to do that…or I would have taken you.”
She dropped her forehead to his shoulder. “Tell me what to do.”
He positioned her even more securely in his lap, but very scandalously so that she straddled him, her legs bracketing each of his outer thighs. An unexpected shiver of anticipation cascaded down her spine. One of his hands snaked around, and his fingers splayed across her stomach, where he kneaded gently. The other found its way to her core where he lightly skimmed his knuckles over her desperately needy flesh. Evie gasped at the electrifying contact, desire coursing through her like molten lava at each soft but persistent stroke.
His fingers slipped over her aching nub with even more firmness, and then he pinched down. Her nub got harder, more sensitive, yet his questing fingers never stopped their slippery caresses as she trembled with powerful quakes and her breathing became fast and urgent.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “You are getting so wet, Evie, so damn wet.”
Her breath came in gasps and pants as she clutched his shoulders and dazedly deduced that it was a good thing she was wet. He sounded so pleased at the notion. She had not thought the piercing sensations could improve, but Richard moved his wicked questing fingers lower. He gently eased one of his long fingers into her aching depths, and she bit into his shoulder as the feeling became so intense it bordered on pain.
“I need more, Richard,” she said on a soft moan into the curve of his neck.
Using a finger to force her chin up, Evie met his golden gaze. The mix of tenderness and visceral lust had her throat closing. He covered her trembling lips with his and withdrew his intimate caress, returned with two fingers rimming her aching entrance, and proceeded with an even more torturously slow plunge into her. Though he seemed so careful, the pain and the sweetest pleasure mingled, driving her higher toward something wonderfully elusive. Helpless against the emotions flooding her senses, helpless to stop the undulations of her hips, she slowly rode his fingers to the fever beating in her blood. Hungry, desperate cries spilled from her, mingling with his low, gravelly murmurs of approval.
A rough kiss was pressed to her swollen lips, and his diabolical fingers stroked her deeper…harder, while his thumb slid sinuously across her aching nub. Everything inside of Evie melted as fiery heat swamped her senses with bliss so destructive her entire body shuddered as ecstasy exploded through her.
Shaking and trembling, she rested her forehead against his. It took several moments for her to regain equilibrium. “Oh, Richard…that was…I’m not sure what it was.”
He dragged his thumb across her tender lips. “I want these sweet, hot, reddened lips around my cock.”
She whimpered at the illicit images filling her mind. Surely she did not understand his meaning. Evie felt as if she stood on the precipice of change, or more like the cliff of insanity, for she wanted to bestow on him pleasure…even the lurid images he’d just provok
ed to her thoughts. She should have been appalled at her unladylike passions, but instead, a burst of exhilaration shot through her heart. It was a heady feeling, doing something she wanted, and not because of duty and expectations. “Teach me.”
“I assure you, these lessons would be of ruin and disgrace,” he groaned against her lips. “Eventually I’ll strip you bare, kiss away all your shyness, and ride you for hours…until you can only moan my name in satisfied exhaustion. I’ve not the willpower, Evie, to stop at kisses and harmless teasing.”
The silence that lingered seemed brittle. She suddenly felt ridiculously vulnerable. “Is that so bad?”
“Yes. I’d have no choice but to marry you, wouldn’t I? My blackened reputation will sully you in the eyes of the ton, and remove you from your family and friends,” he said, his voice still rough and uneven.
She wanted to protest, but the words remained trapped in her throat. Surely it couldn’t be that bad. Deep inside, she did fear her mother would never accept an alliance with a known miscreant like Richard. I have Papa’s approval. And that was what she would hold on to. Not the memory of the embarrassing insinuations she had to suffer from friends, and the avid way they tried to besmirch his character, and the rebukes from her family whenever she publicly socialized with him, even briefly. Spying his conviction that she would be ruined by association, at that moment Evie grew unbearably wary.
He skimmed his fingers over her cheek. “I know your ridiculous fancies. They will never be had with a man like me. I do not trust, nor do I love. These are things you desire from your marriage, Evie. I’ve heard enough of your girlish, foolish hopes, albeit I want that for you because I need you to be happy.” He withdrew from her fully and tugged her dress lower, shifting her so she was once again seated beside him. “No more kisses, Evie…such intimacies will only lead to a ruin of your reputation, whatever is left of my honor, and our friendship.”
He chucked her gently across her chin, and she managed to produce a small smile. She lowered her head and rested it against his shoulder as the carriage rumbled along the streets.
I do not trust, nor do I love.
It struck her then how awful it was that a man as giving and selfless as Richard should live a life where he trusted few and did not require the comfort and joy loving someone brought. She wondered if he found it lonely to be without his family and the friends he had lost. Evie couldn’t imagine an existence where her parents and her brother lived, but she was prohibited from speaking, laughing, visiting them for the Christmas feast, or other traditions which they honored.
It cheered her to envision the happiness his daughter must have brought to his heart. Evie was determined even more now to love him, though she did feel more than a twinge of apprehension at constantly tempting the ruthless sensual scoundrel who’d almost ravished her in a carriage.
But what wouldn’t she risk to have his love, to move from being his only friend to his lover, his wife, his marchioness and future duchess?
Nothing… She would up the stakes for his heart.
Chapter Seven
“The Marquess of Westfall…”
Richard ignored the undulating ripple through the crowd as his name was announced. The whispers, the stares, and the inevitable gossip had never bothered him. He had been branded a degenerate, the most dangerous of libertines. Richard’s lips twitched. The hypocrites. The darlings of society hid their dissipation behind closed doors, while they crucified others for the same debauchery they partook in. Propriety was feigned while deceit and licentiousness ran rampant. The ballroom glittered with the dashing elegance of the lords and ladies below, the beauty of the ton exciting, yet deceptive and cruel. He ignored everyone and descended the stairs of the Gladstones’ grand ballroom.
“Lord Westfall…I thought he shunned these events, why is he here?”
“Perhaps for Lady Honoria. Rumor suggests he may offer for her…”
Curious that. He had been discreet in his enquires, not wanting to create any false expectations, but the carrions had somehow unearthed his interest, and the rumormongering had started. Two of his closest friends, the Duke of Wolverton and the Earl of Blade, had already made enquires to his supposed attachment to the lady in question. While he’d not made his intentions clear, because there were days he had no damn idea what he wanted, he had some interest in Lady Honoria.
She was suitable—she understood he gave nothing but the title, and she had no stars glowing in her eyes when she spoke of marriage. She did not hunger for love and sentiments, nor was she cruel and shallow. Her father had recently inherited a struggling earldom, and she sought a wealthy connection for his sake, gracing Richard with her favor, despite his dubious acceptance by society. She stood almost on the fringe of society, only being invited to a few balls and popular events of the season. Somehow, she was delicately balanced in the middle. Perhaps she would not mind so terribly when society inevitably cut her from their coveted rank if they aligned. She’d met his daughter on two occasions and had always been pleasant and courteous, even having her to tea. The lady’s family had been polite, even if their smiles had been strained. Though Lady Honoria was pretty and agreeable, he was not enamored of her, so there was no web of lies she could entangle him with. So why in God’s name was he hesitating?
Laughing green eyes filled with mischief and aroused awareness swam into his vision… Ruin me. He’d almost robbed Evie’s virtue in a damn carriage. The very memory of their encounter had a groan whispering from his lips. She had been like a burning flame within his arms. He’d never known such sweet torture as her kisses, her sighs, the tart but sweet taste of her on his tongue. Three days later he could still taste the heady scent of her passion, hear her pleasure-filled cries as she rode his fingers with such innate carnality. No one had ever responded to him as Evie had done, and Devil take it, no other woman had ever ensnared his senses the way she had.
What have I allowed to overcome me?
For years, he had lain awake at nights wanting her but never allowing himself to cross the line of no return in the light of day. His heart and his logical mind warned him in equal measure that of all the women in society, Evie was the only one capable of destroying his heart more thoroughly than Aurelia.
Ruthlessly pushing all thoughts of Evie from his mind, he scanned the crowd, seeking his prey in the crush. Tonight, heralded as the ball of the season, only those of influence and power were invited from the ton, and Countess Gladstone preened to have her ballroom crushed to the point of discomfort. At least every other public room was overflowing with guests.
Richard understood tonight for what it was. After all, he could spy every single eligible bachelor present, including the peacock Viscount Ponsby. He’d only attended the crush of the season for two reasons. To ensure that Evie was well, from a safe distance, and to see that Lord Ponsby did not get within an inch of her.
Richard had used his influence and connections, probing deep into the man’s finances and state of affairs, where all had revealed to be well. He had no gambling habits or drinking, nor did the young viscount keep a mistress. Curious at how pearly clean the man was, Richard had extended his arms to the seedy underworld of London and discovered the viscount’s vice—young boys. The man frequented a brothel in the seedier district of Old Nichol and confined himself to pubescent boys. He was not marrying Evie, even if he came with one hundred thousand pounds a year. His depravity was not marring her, and if her parents thought to bend her to their will, Richard would remove the viscount from the equation. He was rather comfortable with the idea of society finding Ponsby’s body floating along the Thames with the rest of the city’s refuse and rubbish.
A murmur traveled through the crush before an expectant hush fell over the throng. He glanced up, and it was as if a fist rammed itself beneath his rib cage and lodged itself there. Evie.
She is loveliness itself.
She was utterly beautiful and effortlessly commanded every gentleman’s gaze. A dark yellow
gown hugged her frame, its neckline far too low and provocative. Her golden hair was caught up in a cascade of curls, baring her elegant neck for display. Damn her. She was so sensually formed his teeth ached. Would there ever be a time he looked at her without needing to touch?
“Do you by chance require assistance in removing your jaw from the floor?” a darkly amused voice queried.
Richard’s good friend, Edmond, the Duke of Wolverton, strolled into view.
“I have it on good authority Lady Evelyn will soon be removed from the marriage mart. It is easy to see the reason. Ravishing, isn’t she?” Edmond murmured.
Unfathomable eyes assessed Richard’s every expression, and he wanted to slam his fist into his friend’s coolly mocking face. Wolverton had always been interfering, pushing Richard to do more than just lust after Evie.
“She told me of her impending marriage,” he said flatly. Despite the fact that she wanted another, she had almost given herself to him. It warmed his heart to know she desired him as he lusted after her, but it also lit a dark fury inside him that she could love another and respond to his touch with such delectable sensuality. Denial burned in his gut like hot coals. Somehow, he had been hoping Evie would be different than the ladies of polite society who only held fickleness and inconstancy in their hearts.
“Did she now? Curious indeed.”
Richard snagged a glass of champagne from a passing footman, at a loss as to how he had managed to maneuver through the throng. While he did not fancy the bubbly drink, he needed something to occupy his hand so he did not grasp Wolverton by the throat when his taunting began.
“We are friends. It is natural for Evie to confide in me, there is nothing else to it.” And the fact that she needed lessons in seduction. He fervently prayed she did not think to lure another gentleman to provide those lessons, for Richard would call out the cad and put a bullet through his heart.
