Seven Years to Sin(22)

“It’s my turn to perform a like service for you.”

The licentiousness of his reply made her laugh.

One dark, winged brow rose. “Do that again.”

“Not wise. It could have been painful had you not been so agile.” Thoughts of his agility had a now predictable effect.

“Not the fall,” he said wryly. “The giggle.”

Her chin lifted. “I think not. I do not giggle on command.”

Alistair’s fingers fluttered along her rib cage. Tickled, she writhed and laughed.

He quit as quickly as he’d begun. “No more of that. Any further wriggling on your part will take this farther than I intend while you’re impaired.”

She realized his erection was pressing rather insistently against her thigh. The understanding that she’d been rubbing against that part of his anatomy made the blood rush to her head, which increased her intoxication.

“We are being very naughty,” she pronounced.

“Not nearly naughty enough, but I intend to address that. Hold tight.” He pushed to his feet and crossed to the bed. Setting her down on the edge of the mattress, he urged her to lie back, then sprawled beside her with his head propped in his hand.

The change in position affected her immediately, thickening her blood and slowing her ability to reason. She felt more naked on the bed than she had while standing. Her arms crossed her breasts.

His smile was warm and very amused. He stroked a finger across the back of her forearm, sending tingles racing through her body. “Wouldn’t you rather touch me, than yourself?”

The thought was extremely tempting. “Where?”

“Anywhere you like.”

Exhaling audibly, she lifted one hand to cup his cheek. His skin was whisker-coarse due to the hour. She liked it. A sweet warmth moved through her before she realized what she was doing.

His smile faded, and he grew very tense. Alarmingly so.

She pulled away abruptly. “Clearly I do not know how to conduct an affair properly.”

After a sharply drawn breath, he pulled her hand back to where it had been. “Affairs are meant to be improper.”

“But not romantic,” she argued. “I will endeavor to touch you with only consummation in mind.”

Alistair rolled to his back and laughed. He continued to laugh until she took his former position by lying on her side. His amusement was catching; she stared down at him with a smile.

“You succeeded beautifully,” he said finally, his eyes still crinkled at the corners. “That is singularly the most unromantic utterance I have ever heard.”

Jess felt silly, but accepted for her silliness. It was lovely being encouraged to be herself.

He reached up and cupped her cheek as she’d done to him. The tenderness behind the gesture was a surprise delight.

“Do you like that?” he asked.

“It’s very sweet.”

“I thought so, too, when you did the same to me. Why don’t we agree to do whatever feels natural to each of us?”

Lowering her head, she licked her lips and moved to kiss him. She saw the understanding of what she was about move through his eyes. Once again, he grew very still. Expectant. Watchful. He gave her the lead in the approach, but when their lips connected, he took over. Snaring her nape with his hand, he adjusted the fit of her mouth, his lips opening under hers with barely tempered hunger.

Jess gasped as she fell into him, the lone support of her arm giving way. His lips were firm, but soft; his skill evident, but restrained. Where Tarley’s kisses had been reverent, Alistair’s were laced with sheer carnality. There was a wicked decadence to the way he tasted her. The approving groans, bouts of sudden fervency followed by savoring licks, and the gentle movements of his lips made her mad for a deeper connection.

Canting her head, she tried to take what she wanted. Surprisingly, he allowed her to. His touch at the back of her neck did not restrain her. It kneaded, as if he couldn’t help but touch and was restraining himself to an innocuous part of her anatomy.

As if she would or could protest a roving exploration.

She turned her head to gulp down much needed air. The tender pressure of his fingertips spread outward from that one relatively innocent place, creating the phantom feel of his fingers running down her spine and between her legs. “Alistair …”

His given name slipped from her lips with remarkable, breathless ease. He reacted to it abruptly, rolling until she was once again on her back and he loomed over her. As he took her mouth, his hand ran down the length of her torso, stroking along her waist and coming to rest at her hip. He gripped her hip bone with a clenching of his palm, nowhere near painful but more than enough to relay his fervency. That telltale grasp excited her, made her feel powerfully feminine and seductive.

Her hands lifted to his hair, pushing into the thick tresses, gripping the strands by the root and tugging—a returning message to him that she was feeling equally passionate. The slow, deep thrusts of his tongue into her mouth so perfectly mimicked what she wished would happen between them that she grew slick and hot between her legs, the sensitive flesh of her sex swelling and throbbing.

She arched upward, pressing her aching breasts into the embroidered silk of his waistcoat. His grip on her hip tightened, pinning her down.

“Easy,” he crooned, caressing her as if gentling a skittish mare. “I have you.”