A Daring Liaison(58)
She was so lost to his seduction that she forgot everything but Charles’s hand. His mouth. The pleasure was so intense that she dropped her head back to offer her throat with a deep surrendering sigh.
His breathing was coming quick and harsh. “Bloody goddamned hell,” he groaned. “Can you stand or shall I carry you out?”
Chapter Thirteen
All Charles could think of was getting Georgiana home before they lost control. He’d never been so swept up in a moment. But he would not subject her to this kind of scrutiny and gossip. This was private business.
He helped her stand and made for the door. As he draped her shawl around her shoulders, he instructed Biddle to cash in his counters and hold the money for him. His carriage was waiting only half a block away and he had Georgiana safely inside within moments of their kiss. This time his lust was not going to get the better of him.
Though she offered her lips when they were settled and the coach had pulled into traffic, he did not accept. Instead he held her hand, stroking her palm with his thumb. Rather than cooling their ardor, the drive and tension between them heightened it. Expectation quickened their breathing, heated their glances, and kept them mute. Words could only diminish what they were feeling.
Arriving at Georgiana’s doorstep, he lifted her down and shouted to Peter to go home. He would not need a driver again tonight. Sanders, like any good footman, had been waiting for his mistress’s return and opened the door before they reached it. Charles carried Georgiana up the steps and through the door, ignoring the footman’s look of astonishment and Finn’s confusion.
Clara’s wide-eyed expression quickly changed to one of concern. “Is she fallen ill, Mr. Hunter, sir?”
“No,” he growled, heading for the stairs.
He should put her down. She was capable of walking, but he did not want to release her. Something fiercely possessive had been born in him the moment she had said, Do you not remember that kiss in Lord Russell’s garden? I was so completely taken with you that I’d have allowed you any liberties you wanted. But then you cooled.
Cooled? He had cooled? Dear God, there had to be some misunderstanding. He had lived that kiss every night since in his dreams. He had looked for it in every woman he’d kissed since. He’d come to believe he’d never experience it again.
Until tonight. Until her wordless surrender had taken him so by surprise that he’d nearly disgraced them both. Even now he knew gossip would be raging about their hasty departure. He’d wanted that, to flush their quarry, but now he was ashamed that he’d allowed Georgiana to be the subject of such talk.
Love? Georgiana? Again?
Her bedroom door was open and he kicked it closed behind them. No need to lock it since no one would bother them tonight. Clara would see to it. Though the lamps were not lit, the fire had been fed and little flickers of light scattered throughout the room. He placed her on her feet and she gasped and swayed as if she hadn’t breathed since they’d left Belmonde’s.
Her shawl fell to the floor and he threw his jacket on top of it, nearly overwhelmed with his need to have her naked. Quickly.
“Charlie, I don’t...” Her voice was a whisper.
No regrets. No second thoughts. “Let tomorrow take care of itself, Georgie. I’m not dead yet.”
For a moment he was flummoxed as to how to remove her new gown, but then he ceased to care. He’d buy her a new one. He’d buy her forty—every one an exact copy, and every one to meet the same fate. She caught his urgency and let the buttons fly when she pulled his waistcoat open and pushed it off his shoulders. She reached for his cravat as he parted her gown at the V of her neckline. The fragile silk gave way like mere tissue, leaving her corset and chemise to be dealt with. This one laced at the front and he drew the strings from their hiding place between her breasts.
That merest of touches sent a deep shudder through Georgiana and he was gratified. He wanted her shivering, trembling at his touch. God knew his own nerve endings were itching relentlessly, exquisitely sensitive and driving him toward release.
Unlaced at last, the corset dropped away onto the growing pile of clothes. His cravat and shirt fared the same treatment as her gown. But he slowed a moment to watch her pull her chemise over her head, her arms high and her rose-tipped breasts gloriously bare. He gripped her around her waist and lifted her to fit his mouth first to the right and then the left, teasing the crowns into tight little beads as she tangled her fingers through his hair.