Lady Be Reckless (Duke's Daughters #2)(65)

Her fingers went to the ties of her corset, and she tried to undo them, but her hands were shaking.

“Here, let me,” he said, a knowing smile on his mouth.

She reached for his shirt, tugging him closer as she felt his fingers brush her upper neck, lower, and then her breast.

Oh. That felt incredible, and yet there were still layers of fabric between them. What would it be like when his bare palm was on her skin?

She swallowed against the thickness of her throat.

“Off,” she said, drawing her fingers, still holding the bunched fabric of his shirt, up.

“Likewise,” he muttered, removing her corset and putting it on top of his waistcoat.

Leaving her in her shift.

He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor, apparently not caring any longer about keeping his clothing tidy.

She licked her lips as she looked at him, his chest broad and muscled, his shoulders wide, his waist narrow.

He looked like a statue of some proud warrior, and yet he was warm, and living and breathing directly in front of her.

She placed her palm on his chest again, sighing in satisfaction as she felt his warm skin. She slid her fingers over his nipple, smiling as she heard his intake of breath. Doing it again just because it brought both of them pleasure.

He grabbed hold of her wrists and drew her arms around his body, placing her hands at the small of his back.

This brought their bodies together, but because he was so much taller than she, they were face to chest instead of chest to chest. She rose up on her tiptoes and buried her nose into his neck, placing kisses on his skin as she slid her hands up and down his back.

Suddenly she felt him hoist her up so their mouths met again, and he was kissing her savagely, ruthlessly, and she loved every moment of it. His tongue possessing her mouth, his hands wrapped around her, his body holding her close.

Lower still, a certain part of him making its presence known. Feeling that pressure created a soft ache inside, a warm, prickly feeling dancing on her skin.

And then his hand was curled around her breast, his finger finding her nipple. He ran his palm over it and she gasped as the sensation flowed through her body.

“You like that,” he murmured against her mouth. It wasn’t a question.

“Mmm,” she replied, sliding her fingers from the small of his back to rest on his hipbones.

“Are you certain about this?” he asked, pressing forward there so it was clear what he meant.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, holding her breath as she put her hand right there, right where he was so large and firm and—and large.

“God, Olivia, you’re killing me,” he said, only he didn’t sound in pain.

“Oh?” she replied, rubbing her hand over him. He groaned, and then quickly picked her up, carrying her to the pile of bags in the corner, letting her down to lie against the coarse cloth.

Standing in front of her, his mixed expression showed desire, curiosity, and concern.

Still concerned, even though she was here and was a full participant in what they were doing.

His hands were at his waistband—they stilled as he waited.

“Go ahead,” she said, sitting up to reach to the hem of her shift, starting to pull it up her legs.

“No,” he replied, a sly smiled playing on his lips, “I want to do that. Wait for me.”

He undid the placket of his trousers quickly, shucking the pants off his legs with remarkable speed, leaving him only in his smallclothes.

His male part stood proudly out from his body, seeming as though it was aimed right at her. She nearly giggled at how it looked, as though it were something he had stuck on himself at a right angle.

“Is something amusing?”

She began to shake her head no, then nodded. “It’s just so—so there,” she said, pointing to the object in question.

He grinned as his hand went there, grasping it and sliding his hand up and down, his gaze intent on her.

“Oh,” she said in a soft voice as she watched. His hand moved in a steady rhythm, his other hand sliding over his chest.

There was something so sensual about watching him, but she wanted to be the one to touch him.

“Weren’t you going to remove this?” she said as she plucked at the hem of her shift.

He immediately lowered himself beside her, his fingers on her skin, on the shift, lifting it up her body and over her head.

“I wanted to take my time doing that,” he said, his eyes traveling all over her body, “but I couldn’t wait. I’m too impatient.”

She swallowed and put her hands on his shoulders to bring his body alongside hers.

They lay facing one another, his member pressing against her belly, his gaze on her mouth.

“I want this, Edward,” she said in a soft voice as she slid her hands down his body to grip him as he had.

“Gladly,” he replied, releasing his hold of her to slide his smallclothes off so they were both naked, lying on the cloth bags in a darkened shed.

The rain had started, and there was a pleasant low hum from the drops falling on the roof.

It felt even more as though only they existed in the world. It was a precious, wonderful moment she never wanted to stop, even though she knew its end was inevitable.

But meanwhile, she could savor it. Savor him.

And this. All of this.