A Daring Liaison(40)
He smiled and she was momentarily reminded of that younger Charles. The one who had wooed her so sweetly, the one she’d given her heart to. But this was a new Charles. Experienced, determined and relentless.
He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the pins from her hair. “Like silk,” he murmured as he tangled his fingers in the curls. Bending slightly, he lifted a strand and held it to his cheek. “You are so completely beautiful that you take my breath away. What is that scent, Georgiana? It reminds me of spring.”
“L-lilacs,” she said, amazed that he would notice such a thing.
“Lilacs...” He straightened and stepped back from her bed to shrug out of his jacket. His gaze never leaving her, he removed his cravat, waistcoat, shirt, shoes, stockings and trousers in that order. She felt heat sweep up from her toes as he turned to her and undid his drawers and let them drop to the floor.
Good heavens! She’d never seen a man naked before. Mr. Huffington had worn a nightshirt and joined her beneath the blankets. Arthur had tumbled down the stairs in his nightshirt on his way to the water closet, but Gower had stayed the course—twice. With a little fumbling, he had managed to find the parts that fit together and finish the job rather quickly. The discomfort he’d caused had come and gone as quickly as he.
This, she gathered, was going to be an entirely different experience.
Charles’s physique was stirring. She noted an angry red scar high on his left shoulder and knew what had caused that damage—the shot he’d taken when standing beside Adam Booth. But then all she could see was his strongly muscled chest, narrowed waist and hips and...and that he was impossibly large below. Though she hadn’t actually seen Gower’s member, it couldn’t possibly have been this large.
He lay down beside her and she turned from her side onto her back, ready for him. She hoped that he would do some of the things he’d done to her in the coach first, though.
His hands, as deft as she’d ever known them, slipped over her form, from her shoulders to her knees. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open in a sigh, as if he were blind and learning what a woman was for the first time.
“I’ve wanted you for so long. You are everything I thought you’d be, Georgiana.”
Had he? But why had he run away after that first fierce kiss? Why had he not gone further then? She opened her mouth to ask the question, but he kissed her, blocking all thought and reason, as consuming as their first ill-fated kiss. She prayed it would not end the same way and moaned when he finally lifted from her lips. Why couldn’t that kiss go on forever?
But he turned his attention to the hollow of her throat and she could feel the heat of his breath there. The soft brush of his lips quieted her protest, alerting her that he was not done with her yet.
Her muscles relaxed and she felt as if she were melting. She was ready when he moved lower and took one firmed aureole between his lips and nibbled. An instant tingle began deep inside her. She couldn’t describe it, had never felt it before but had come close that night in the coach. She only knew something inside her was tightening, tensing for some unknown event, drawing ever closer with an indescribable compulsion. Whatever it was, she knew she wanted it, needed it. He moved his hand downward, touching her, stroking her in that most tender spot. She heard a whimper and realized that it was hers.
Charles made an answering sound, part groan, part growl. Had she done something to displease him? His knee slipped between her thighs and she raised her own knee to welcome him.
He sighed. “Everything and more...”
She twisted beneath him, reaching up to him. “Please,” she said, not knowing what she asked for, but knowing she wanted whatever came next. Yes, and trusting that Charles would know what she wanted, even if she did not. “Please.”
And for the first time, there was something familiar—the experimental push of his shaft against her softness. But with Charles, she wanted it. Welcomed it. She lifted to him in desperation.
“Ah, Georgie,” he groaned, thrusting again, harder this time.
He was thick and long and sure. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out, knowing this was what she’d been waiting for, as he entered and filled her. But he did not stop there. He drew back and thrust again and again, creating an exquisite friction that rapidly built to a new and even more compelling need. So compelling that she could not catch her breath.
She joined his rhythm until a shattering spasm overtook her. Wave upon wave of pleasure washed through her and she was dying. Dying of sheer pleasure. Charles was with her, panting and whispering her name as he thrust one last time.