“Lily, I—”
“It was gentlemanly of you to offer to meet me in the hallway. Truly, it was. But entirely unnecessary. It occurs to me that I’m alone with you in your bedchamber and such an opportunity will not likely present itself again any time soon.”
“But, Lily—”
She put up a hand to stop him again. “I’m destined to live a spinsterlike existence. We cannot actually make love tonight, Devon. I’m not that brave, but I can kiss you again. Let you kiss me, and spend a night—of sorts—here in this bed.”
The lady made sense. This time, Devon didn’t stop. He wanted to make love to her, of course, and the thought of doing anything less drove him mad. But having some of Lily was better than none of her. He would not cross the line with her, even if it killed him.
He moved over to the edge of the bed where he sat, turned, and pulled her into his arms. He let his mouth capture hers. He stopped briefly to shuck his boots from his feet, then he moved back to her. Without letting his mouth leave hers, he pushed her back onto the bed, pulling her up to the pillows and lying atop her. The sweet weight of pressing against her made him groan. Her answering moan, with her fingers trailing through his hair, made him insane.
“Lily, are you sure?” he whispered.
“Just to be clear,” she said through kisses, smiling against his mouth. “We’re only kissing. You haven’t seduced me yet.”
Devon smiled. He had her now. He’d make her feel like she’d shot through the clouds.
And he knew exactly how to do it.
The room was dark save for a few candles. One twinkled atop the mantelpiece, one sat on the bedside table, and another blinked in the sitting area. There was enough light to see Lily’s beautiful countenance. He had to move slowly. He couldn’t risk scaring her away.
Devon moved behind her and deftly unfastened the row of tiny buttons at the back of her gown. He unlaced her stays quickly, never so glad he was an expert at undressing a woman.
“This is going to be fun, isn’t it, Devon?” Lily asked in a shy, but decidedly excited, voice.
She turned her head toward him.
Devon nodded. “Absolutely.”
Her dress was down to her waist in short order and her stays were wholly removed. Lily bit her lip. He’d always liked it when she did that. Endearing.
“I expected to feel embarrassed being seen half-nude by a man, but all I feel is warmth,” she whispered.
Devon blinked. What did she mean by that? She’d been married. She’d obviously seen a half-nude man before. But now was not the time for interrogation.
He quickly unwrapped his cravat with one hand, and ripped open his shirt. He pressed his chest against her breasts, making him ache. He reached down and cupped one of them and she moaned.
“God, Lily, you are beautiful.” He kissed her swollen lips again. “So perfect.” He touched his forehead to hers.
She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and kissed him with every bit of herself. “So are you,” she whispered against his mouth, fitting her breast more closely into his hand and placing her own atop his to keep his hand there. “Don’t stop,” she murmured. And then with a slight smile. “Yet.”
Devon drew a deep breath and shuddered. Lily didn’t seem frightened. Why didn’t she seem frightened? Given the probable contents of her blasted pamphlet, he expected she might be half quaking with fear when a man kissed her. Instead, she melted against him like marzipan left in the sun.
The ungodly perfection of Lily’s tight, full round breast in his hand made his cock throb. He pressed himself against her leg and bit his lip to keep from crying out. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”
He kissed her soft lips again and let his mouth trail to her earlobe. He sucked and bit. He groaned again when she squirmed and moved against him, her hand brushing the tip of his cock. More sweet ecstasy. He let his mouth trail to her neck where he suckled and nibbled. More welcome squirms.
His lips moved to the valley between her breasts. He cupped both of them in his hands and squeezed lightly. He rubbed his thumbs against her nipples and she bit her lip. One of his hands moved up to pull the pins from her hair and the tide swept over her shoulders in dark falls. She sat up slightly and shook it out. And Devon reveled in the sweet scent of it around him. His one hand continued to tease her nipple. He found the other one with his mouth and sucked.
Lily’s head fell back on the pillow and she clamped her legs together hard, moaning. He wouldn’t let his mouth leave her no matter how much she squirmed. She held his dark head to her breast, allowing him to do anything and everything he wanted with it. Was she silently begging him not to stop?
Just when he hoped she couldn’t stand any more, he moved his lips to her other breast and sucked there. He bit softly, scraping his teeth against the sensitive center. This time, her legs fell apart, and he moved to lie atop her. She welcomed him, pulling him tightly against her.
He suckled her breast and moved his hand up to her lips. She took his thumb into her mouth and sucked. Devon groaned. The weight between his legs was getting heavier and harder to control with every movement Lily made. Her gorgeous body writhing beneath him was unholy torture. When she took his thumb into her sweet, small mouth, he nearly lost control, imagining her doing the same thing but with another appendage entirely.
His kisses slackened on her breasts and he gave them each one last peck, moving back up to her mouth and kissing her fiercely. Her dark hair fell against the pillow. He ran his fingers through it. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to touch you like this, Lily.”
“Five years?” she breathed against his mouth.
“God, yes.”
“Me too.”
* * *
He kissed her again. Lily was suddenly sad, thinking their time together was coming to an end. He’d done things to her breasts she’d never imagined possible, but they could go no further.
He kissed her eyelids and her forehead, and just when she thought he was going to stop and help her get dressed, his hand moved slowly down her body, past her rib cage and stomach, coming to rest between her legs.
Her heart stopped. Time stopped. She couldn’t breathe. Never in her life had she imagined such a thing.
“Devon, I—”
“Shh,” he whispered against her lips. “I won’t hurt you, Lily. Please.”
It was the “please” that was her undoing. She’d never seen Devon Morgan so humble. He was usually so controlled, but now he was humbling himself. Asking her to let him touch her, and somehow she knew he would go no further than she allowed. And if what he’d done to her breasts was any indication, she was about to be amazed again. God only knew what that man was about to do to her. Only one thing mattered. She desperately wanted to find out.
She couldn’t make her lips form the word “yes,” so she merely nodded, then buried her face in the side of the pillow, too dazed to do anything else.
Devon shimmied her dress from her hips and it swooshed to a heap on the floor. Lily shivered at the feel of his warm hands on her overheated skin. He pulled the coverlet up over them in deference to her modesty. Lily appreciated that. No doubt she was blushing all the way down there.
When her drawers came away from her ankles, she sucked in a deep breath. Then, Devon was touching her. His fingers plied against the wet, hot skin between her legs, his fingers working a magic Lily felt certain would send her straight to hell, but at the moment she didn’t care. One finger entered her, so slowly. The sweetness of it made her cry out. And then he moved within her, slowly, carefully, making her ache and want things she didn’t even know existed. She twisted her hips beneath him. She whispered his name.
He pulled his finger away. Then he started circling her with his fingertip, in a place so sensitive, so perfect, she wanted to cry. His wet, sure finger made her hips writhe. Her hands tangled under the blanket in his dark hair. She wanted to pull him up, to kiss him, but she also didn’t want to interru
pt. Wherever this was going, it was a place she desperately wanted to be.
She put the back of one hand to her lip and bit, trying to keep from crying out. And then, time ceased to exist. Devon moved down her body. His hot, perfect mouth replaced his fingers. His tongue circled her now and his large hands held her hips, holding her up against his lips, forcing her into contact with him, giving her something she didn’t know until today that she’d always wanted … no, needed.
“Oh, God,” she sobbed against the pillow. She pulled it over her face, still twisting helplessly beneath his mouth. He licked her, in perfect laps, kissed her in deep, wet swashes, and rubbed his rough tongue on a spot that made her beg.
“Devon, please,” was all she could utter, her limp fingers squeezing the sides of the pillow with as much strength as she could muster. “Please.” And while he didn’t answer, she knew he was going to give her exactly what she was asking for.
His licks became more insistent, perfectly timed, torturous, and Lily squirmed, hitching her breath as she climbed a precipice of feelings she’d never dreamt possible. It was a journey to the top of a place she never wanted to leave. And when Devon paired his insistent tongue with his finger sliding into her one more time, she reached the pinnacle, crying out against the pillow. She uttered his name on a sob that lingered, while the tentacles of pleasure wrapped around her insides and brought her floating down on a cloud of sharp breaths from heaven.
She lay there for several seconds, enjoying the aftermath, the sharp little pings that zipped through her body, causing her to shudder. Her arms wrapped around Devon’s shoulders. He’d pulled himself away from her, but remained hugging her hips, allowing her to enjoy the final moments of her climax. No words were spoken. None were necessary.
Finally, he pulled himself up and Lily gave him a smile.
“I don’t know what to say to you,” she whispered.
“Did I frighten you?”
She smiled. “No, no. There was absolutely nothing frightening about that.”
But it was a lie.
Whatever had just happened, she was not going to be the same. And that thought scared her more than she could say. But that’s not what Devon had meant, and there was still the one secret of her wedding night she would never tell him.
They lay in each other’s arms a while longer until Devon told her he’d fetch her a cup of water. She didn’t need water. He was leaving to give her privacy to get dressed. Lily appreciated that. She leaned back into the pillows and smiled and sighed. Good heavens. The man was perfect in all things involving seduction.
* * *
Devon let the door to his bedchamber close behind him and only then did he release his pent-up breath. Good God, what had just happened? He’d pleasured Lily, he knew, but he’d nearly made a mess of himself too, and that hadn’t happened since he was a lad.
God, he’d wanted her. And he could have had her. He knew it. Just a few whispered words and assurances. She would have been his for the taking. Nothing he’d done in his life had been more difficult than to stop.
But he couldn’t do it. Just couldn’t.
She didn’t know about the bet at the club. He couldn’t make love to her without telling her about that blasted bet. It would be unfair.
Lily didn’t know about a lot of things, actually. Like Justin.
Devon’s first duty was to Justin. And while Devon had felt some spark of a dormant emotion while he’d been touching Lily, he needed a woman who loved him and trusted him, who would help him raise his son. Lily was squared off against him as his opponent now. And of course there was the little matter of what had happened between them five years ago. How could he forget? No, Devon had no right to feel anything for Lily. Anything at all.
What exactly did he feel, anyway? He’d had his chance to shame her. She’d been willing and pliant in his arms. He could easily have left her unfulfilled. Sent her away wanting more. She’d be out of his life for good if he’d done that. So why hadn’t he?
Damn it. He couldn’t answer that question.
Instead of summoning a servant, Devon made his way to the kitchens to fetch the glass of water. He wanted to give her enough time to get dressed. He wanted to give himself enough time to think.
When he finally returned, she was standing next to the bed, looking heartbreakingly beautiful. She’d put her hair back up, but it had a sort of tousled quality that made him hard all over again. She’d replaced her clothing, but she stood with her gown hanging open in the back, waiting for him to help her with her stays and all of the buttons. She motioned behind her and he quickly crossed the thick carpet. He handed her the water. She sipped it hesitantly, while Devon laced her up and buttoned the gown. He breathed in her smell too, and closed his eyes, thankful she couldn’t see his reaction.
Devon waited until he’d finished with her buttons before he spoke. He bowed his head behind her. She had to know about the bet and she would hear it from him. “Lily, there’s something I must tell you.”
Lily sucked in her breath. She turned quickly and put her fingertip to his lips. “No, no more. It doesn’t matter. Please just take me home.”
He opened his mouth to try again, but the look in her eyes stopped him. It looked like … pain.
Damn it.
Instead, he nodded.
* * *
Devon accompanied her home. They rode together in silence while Lily traced raindrops on the coach’s windowpane. She closed her eyes, imagining that if she hadn’t stopped him, Devon would have said everything she’d ever wanted to hear. Instead, she was sure he would say something painful. Too painful. Something about five years ago and the reasons why he’d never come back for her. What did any of it matter anymore?
Marriage was out of the question. Of course, Colton would be a perfect person to marry, if he had a shilling to his name, if she could trust him, if she had an intention of ever marrying again. But he did not. And she could not and did not. He was a gambler, as his father had been. And it made her heart ache to know it. He’d told her once, years ago when they were courting, he would never be a gambler like his father. And yet, Devon was exactly that. Obviously the years they’d been apart had changed him irrevocably, completely. It made her sad and made her want to scream too.
Yes, Devon Morgan was completely inappropriate for a score of reasons.
But why, oh why, did her traitorous heart have to want him so?
CHAPTER 16
Medford’s town house was perfectly decorated. Candles glistened in the chandeliers, the refreshment tables overflowed with decanters of wine and bowls of punch. Young ladies and their chaperones mingled against one wall, the pastel colors of their ball gowns heralding their debuts.
And Annie was there among them, finally experiencing her long-awaited come-out.
Her dark hair was pulled up in a bun atop her head. Stray curls fell softly at her cheeks. Her best white dress, the one that Lily had painstakingly sewn for her, accentuated her trim figure. Annie looked stunning and Lily was proud. Exceedingly so.
Annie twirled around, an enormous smile gracing her beautiful face.
There was nothing this moment could use, if not their mother. Oh, Lily had little use for their father. The man had always been domineering. Money and spirits were the only things important to him. He’d demanded Lily marry the Earl of Merrill, and like a good daughter, she had. But their mother had always been kind and happy with the girls, understanding. Their mother may have been ruled by her husband’s whims and devastated by his constant gambling, but she loved her daughters. And when their father was taken from them four years ago after a particularly long, harsh winter when he’d come down with a nasty cough, it had been sad, but even more distressing was their mother’s coming down with lung fever within days of their father’s passing and being gone only weeks later herself.
Lily sighed. If she’d learned one thing in her twenty-two years, it was that life just refused to be fair. And so be it. She would always rely upo
n herself and never count on fate to be kind to her.
She glanced over at a beaming Annie.
Annie. So innocent, so hopeful.
Yes, Annie might not know what sort of trouble she could encounter at a debut ball, but at least she could have this one night of magical fantasy.
Lily’s own debut had been that way too, and she wished that for her little sister. Five years ago, Lily had stood on the sidelines of the Wilmingtons’ ball and waited for her own debut, the butterflies in her stomach taking flight. It had been like a dream, that night, and she would never forget it. Like a heroine in a romantic novel, the first man she’d laid eyes on had been the hero of her story.
Devon Morgan.
Young, dashing, and oh, so handsome, he’d come out of nowhere and claimed her hand for the first dance. Initially, she’d been convinced her friends had put him up to it, for certainly such a charming bachelor would not be interested in her. And he was the only son of a marquis, no less. He’d twirled her in his arms as if he’d invented the steps and Lily had been hesitant to pinch herself, frightened she would awake from a too perfect dream.
But that had been five years ago.
Things were very different now. She hadn’t allowed herself to dwell too long on what had happened between them at Devon’s town house last night. It had been a pleasant interlude, to be sure, but their involvement with each other must end there. Surely, Devon realized it too. Surely, he’d give up his intention to seduce her and just quietly go about his business of finding a new fiancée. There were plenty of other rich young ladies to marry. Surely, he could find one who wasn’t scared off by the pamphlet. The man was a marquis, for heaven’s sake.
“There’s Mr. Eggleston,” Annie squealed into Lily’s ear, shaking her from her thoughts. “Doesn’t he look positively dashing?”
Annie’s best friend, Frances, was there beside her, wearing a pastel pink ball gown and dutifully squealing with glee also over the thought of Eggleston asking Annie to dance. “No doubt you two will be engaged by month’s end,” Frances said, her blond curls bobbing against her temples.
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