by Amy Sandas
Avenell sucked in a tight breath as Lily’s words hit deep in his core. He had told her of his shameful inexperience, and she still wanted him. He tried to force the air out again in a slow exhale, but a bloom of hope expanded in his chest. It caused his breath to catch somewhere between his lungs and his throat.
Hope was a painful sensation.
“Kiss me,” she said again, imploring and commanding at once. Her gaze held his and wouldn’t let go. The power she held over him with barely even trying was frightening.
He couldn’t resist her. He didn’t want to.
In torturously slow degrees, he lowered his head toward hers. Every sense, every nerve in his body was focused on the next few moments. He knew he would want to savor the memory of this, the first time he had kissed Lily.
He pressed his lips to hers gently at first, not knowing what to expect. But even such a light touch sent a swift rush of sensation through him. It was unlike anything he had ever known. Delicate and passionate at once. The silken texture of her lips, her pliant softness, the little moan that caught in her throat.
It stunned him. Stopped his breath and jolted his heart.
Intent upon exploring this new experience, he shifted the pressure of his mouth, brushing his lips across hers before he flicked his tongue out to touch just the center of her bottom lip. Her lips parted on a sudden exhale. Her warm breath mingled with his. Something more than desire coursed through his blood.
He lifted his hands to grasp her shoulders, and with a groan, he crushed her mouth with his.
A voice in his head demanded he slow down, relish the sensations. But he was too desperate to know more. He tilted his head, craving the taste of her as though it could save his soul. He swept his tongue past her teeth, sliding into the recesses of her mouth. She tasted of innocence and shadows, and he was ravenous for her.
It shocked him—that desperate, obsessive need to consume her, to take all that she was into himself. To make what was hers, his. Her breath, her taste, her softness, and her need.
She arched her body toward him, bending her spine in a luscious curve as she returned the kiss with increasing fervor. Though she kept her arms faithfully at her sides, he swept his hands down to catch her wrists in his fingers. Even in his growing desire, he feared her touch as much as he craved it.
She accepted the restraint as he had known she would.
In fact, it seemed as though his hold on her emboldened her.
Rising to her toes, she swept her tongue over his. Her teeth scraped his lower lip. He didn’t know if it was by accident or by design, but it had an intense effect on him. She did it again. This time her teeth gently closed.
A shock of pleasure shot through him.
She released him to bathe the spot with her soft tongue.
It was teasing and torturous.
Avenell released one of her wrists to grasp her nape, intending to hold her steady as he took her mouth in a deeper kiss. But before he could, he caught sight of her face. Her chin was tipped up, her lips parted, her lashes resting on the translucent skin below her eyes. Those lashes, thick and lush, fluttered and lifted as he continued to stare at her.
So beautiful. So trusting and generous as she waited for him to show her what he wanted. He could see her desire, her yearning, and more. An impulse claimed him.
Lifting her hand, he brought it up between them. On a carefully controlled breath, he turned her palm toward him and pressed it to the center of his chest.
The familiar pain lit across his skin, but he focused on her eyes and the pink of her lips and the gentle courage that was Lily.
Then suddenly the pain dove deep, tightening his chest and fisting in his stomach.
That damnable hope again.
Twenty-two
Lily was not able to get away again until two nights later. Two nights interrupted by two long days during which she repeatedly relived their last conversation.
And the kiss.
The wondrous, enlightening kiss.
She hadn’t expected to feel so many new and delightful things when his mouth had moved over hers. Her books had never explained how intimate the act could be, but it had affected her in ways their previous interactions had not.
She knew he could bring her pleasure with his hands upon her body, but his kiss… His kiss brought forth yearnings from her very heart. It was the first time she and the earl had been on equal footing, both of them giving and taking of each other with similar greed and abandon.
He had felt it too. She knew it when he’d drawn his mouth away and she’d seen the raw ache of longing in his eyes. And when he’d brought her hand to his chest, she’d been overwhelmed with emotion. Because she understood.
He may not have been ready to accept the extent of what she wished to share with him, but he was willing to try.
It had been a beautiful moment.
But that was where it had ended.
Two more days had passed, and she was finally going to be with him again.
Surprisingly, the earl was not waiting in the carriage when she got out to the mews. The groom explained that he was already at the destination.
It was odd and unexpected, but she rode to Pendragon’s with a mix of acute anxiety and titillation building within her. Tonight, she fully expected to become the earl’s lover in its fullest definition.
The groom insisted upon escorting her to the door of the brothel, where the familiar footman then took over and accompanied her up the stairs and down the hallway. She considered saying it was unnecessary, that she knew the way well enough, but she suspected that the earl had arranged the escort. Of course, he would know that despite her familiarity with the long back hallways, she would feel some trepidation in traversing them alone, considering her first experience at the establishment.
His consideration warmed her, though she was already quite heated with anticipation of the evening ahead.
Her body fairly hummed as she entered their rooms. Though the fire in the grate had died down to red glowing coals, the room was cozy and warm. The gaslights had been turned down as well, leaving only a handful of candles placed about the room to illuminate the space. She immediately scanned for the sight of the earl, but he was not present in the sitting room.
Pacing farther into the room, she glanced toward the shadows of the attached bedroom. Through the open doorway, she could see the earl’s dark form beside the imposing outline of the bed as he lit more candles there.
A moment later, without looking back in her direction, though she suspected he had heard her enter, he stepped away and crossed out of her limited view.
She would go to him, without a trace of doubt. She just needed a moment first to breathe. To acknowledge all she was feeling—the blooming expectation, her growing desire, and that subtle ache of deeper emotion pulsing in the center of her chest.
She welcomed it.
That quiet ache of longing felt right. It felt beautiful.
Lily removed her cloak and smoothed her hands down the front of her gown, acknowledging the flutter of excitement in her belly. Then sensing his presence, she looked up to find him standing in the doorway of the bedroom. He had already divested himself of his coat and waistcoat. His white silk shirt had been opened at the throat and glowed softly in the candlelight.
He was beautiful—so masculine and strong—in his state of half-undress. Her breath caught around a thickness in her throat. She wasn’t sure if it was her painful longing that triggered the emotion or the fact that she could so acutely sense his tension and disquiet.
The longer they stared at each other, the more breathless Lily became, until finally the earl tipped his head as he said, “I have arranged for us to dine tonight. Nothing too extravagant. Just a few delicacies I thought you might enjoy.”
Lily looked to the table set with elegant dishware and covered tr
ays. In truth, she was starving, having been far too focused on the night ahead to enjoy the supper she’d attended earlier with Angelique and her sisters.
Despite her hunger, she was not interested in food.
She glanced back to the earl and tried to smile as she replied, “I am sure it is wonderful, my lord, but at this moment, I doubt I could eat a thing.”
His jaw tightened, and as she watched, his chest rose and fell with a heavy breath before he held out his hand to her.
“Will you come with me into the bedroom?”
Lily eagerly crossed the room to him. Her gaze never left his dark visage as she placed her hand in his. His palm was warm against hers. The solid feel of his hand closing around her fingers grounded her to him as he led her deeper into the bedroom.
Rather than draw her toward the bed as she expected, he brought her forward to the center of the room. Then he stopped, releasing her hand as he turned to face her.
His intent gaze traveled slowly over her face, then down the length of her body.
She was suddenly grateful for the gown she had chosen to wear that night. Though it was not so bold a color as red or sapphire blue, Lily believed the shimmery lavender complemented her skin tone and made her hair look darker, her eyes brighter.
She could sense the earl’s rising tension even as he continued to hold himself stoic and silent. It was all there to see in the familiar lines and angles of his fiercely handsome face.
There was no way she could have missed the same intense anticipation, the uncertainty, and the longing that she felt herself. The fear and the lovely, breath-stealing desire.
Desire that felt overwhelming in the quiet, flickering darkness. Desire that burned hot despite the instinctive need to tread with caution and care. Desire that felt so right, so unbelievably perfect.
It was all there, dancing in the air between them, racing over her skin, and trickling a path of fire through her veins. She wasn’t sure she could bear much more of it.
But he did not reach for her.
A moment of panic gripped her.
Surely, she had not misunderstood his intention for tonight. Surely, they would finally make love as she had dreamed of for so long.
She noted his stiff, unyielding posture, and in a swift flash of insight, Lily knew what she needed to do.
Catching his weighted gaze, she smiled. His only response was to fist his hands at his sides.
Without a word, she took three steps back, lengthening the distance between them, urging him to trust her with her eyes and her smile and the heavy beat of her heart.
Then she slowly began to undress.
As she did so, she made note of how his intent focus followed her every movement, how his hands stretched open as a wide swath of skin was revealed. The catch in his breath when she released the jeweled garters and slowly rolled the stockings he had given her down her legs.
She came alive under his focused attention. Her nerves were alight, her belly trembled, and heat swirled everywhere.
In attempting to seduce him, she was the one being seduced. By the time she stood naked, her clothing draped alongside his coat and waistcoat on the chair, she was breathless and hungry for him.
He stared at her from the shadows, his features harsh in the muted reach of the candlelight. He swept his gaze down the length of her bared body before looking into her eyes.
“I will do what I can to ease your experience,” he said.
Lily bit her lip. His concern was for her when all she could think of was him. They would be exploring this new experience together.
Acknowledging the magic of that sent a heady wealth of emotion through her.
“Go lie on the bed, Lily.”
The commanding nature of his tone empowered her. Lily’s body warmed with anticipation, and there was no hesitation as she turned to walk naked to the bed, feeling the heat of his gaze on her backside with every step. Stretching out on top of the black bedcovering, she breathed a trembling sigh. The contrasting textures of velvet, silk, and satin against her sensitive skin gave rise to a new wealth of sensations.
Surrounded by black shadows and golden expectation, Lily felt as though she existed in a dream. Not only in the atmosphere of the room and the prospect of what was to come, but also in the intense depth of her need, and the hope that tonight he might finally join her in a mutual exploration of desire.
* * *
Avenell removed his boots and stockings, then stripped his shirt off over his head. Tossing the shirt aside, he reached for the fastening of his breeches. All the while he stared at the image of Lily lying in wait for him on the bed.
Everything about her was exquisite in a way more painful than he ever could have imagined. The silken glow of her skin, the lushness of her hips and breasts, the way her lips parted with her shallow breath. The quiet hunger in her eyes.
Still dressed in his breeches, he stalked toward the bed. She lay on her back, her body pale against the black bedcovering. She had one foot flat on the mattress with her knee slightly bent, revealing the shapely lines of her thigh and calf. Her arms rested elegantly at her sides, and the peaks of her generous breasts were puckered and waiting for attention.
His stomach clenched when she turned her head to watch his approach. Her smoky gaze held his intently, as though silently demanding something of him. Stopping at the side of the bed, he studied the stretch of her body. She so eloquently displayed both shameless sensuality and innocent anticipation. She was maiden and courtesan together. Bold and modest.
So many sumptuous curves and mysterious shadows.
Beautiful and all his.
Hot desire stabbed his chest and sent a fine jolt straight to his groin. Avenell clenched his stomach against the possessive craving that pressed inexorably outward from his center. Going too fast could lead to disaster, and this was far too important.
Holding her smoldering gaze, he trailed his fingertips up the length of her outstretched leg, teasing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh before sweeping his hand over her hip and across the creamy plane of her belly. He continued his caress higher over the shallow bumps of her ribs, easing closer to where her breath lifted and lowered her full breasts. He drew lazy swirls around her peaked nipples.
Her eyelids lowered over her eyes as she bowed her spine and shifted her legs. Her body was heaven beneath his fingers. Her reactions were honest and unadulterated.
He wanted more.
Holding his breath, he slid his palm over her navel. Then lower.
As if anticipating his touch, she gave a gentle buck of her hips. At the exact same moment, he eased his hand between her thighs, pressing his palm intimately against her core.
She stilled. Rough gasps puffed through her lips. The sound of it tightened his loins. He shifted his hand to draw the wide pad of his thumb along the seam of her folds. Moisture coated her flesh, and when he made a second pass, he deliberately added more pressure as he slid his thumb over her tightly swollen bud.
A muffled sound caught in her throat, and Avenell risked a glance at her face.
Beautiful tension rode her features. Her eyes were closed, and her lips were rolled in between her teeth.
The warmth that flooded Avenell’s system was different from the heat of desire he fought to contain. Different from the need and hunger that consumed him. Nothing at all like the fear he kept tucked deep beneath it all.
It was something altogether new.
He steadied his breath.
Withdrawing his hand from her heat, he ignored her quiet sound of protest and walked around to the foot of the bed and stripped off his breeches. He grasped her slim ankles in his hands and drew her legs apart so he could kneel on the mattress between them. The sight of her body all soft and needful on the bed sent a sharp arc of lust through him.
He knew he should take another moment
to manage the riot inside him, but he could not keep his hands off her. He smoothed his palms over the surface of her legs and noted the way she crushed the velvet coverlet in her fists. He looked up along the length of her body to her face, and his heart stuttered.
She stared back at him from beneath sultry lashes. Her lips glistened, and her tongue pressed against the edge of her teeth. She radiated passion and sexual anticipation.
“Do you trust me?”
She nodded and replied readily, “I do.”
Avenell leaned forward over her and bent down to press his open mouth over her navel. He darted his tongue into the sensitive well.
She closed her eyes with a sweep of her lashes and a tremulous sigh. A torturous, lovely sound.
Avenell sensed her touch a moment before he felt it, yet still he stiffened when her hand lifted to his shoulder. His breath burned in his lungs. He forced himself to slowly inhale and exhale as he clenched his teeth against the urge to pull away.
“Lily,” he warned softly.
Her lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes. A small sound issued from her lips, and she quickly lifted her hand away.
“I did not mean to,” she muttered weakly.
Avenell regulated his breath, forcing himself to relax before he replied, “I know.” He stared into her eyes, darkened with desire, and felt a long and languid pull in his center. It was like a gravitational attraction. Something he could not deny. “But I cannot allow it to happen again. I want nothing to interrupt us tonight. Do you understand?”
Her answer came out on a sigh. “Yes.”
“Reach your hands up over your head.”
Her expression was impossible to read, but she did as he said. Her willingness to please him triggered an ache deep inside.
He pressed another kiss to her belly just to see her eyelashes flutter. As he rose up on his hands and knees over her prone form, his body cast hers into mysterious shadow. He took a moment to smooth his hand up along her side, brushing his thumb over her pebbled nipple and eliciting a sharp gasp. Then he stretched out to reach toward the head of the bed. It took only a moment to find what he sought beneath the pillows. He looped the velvet rope loosely over her joined hands, circling it twice around her wrists.
