The Other Miss Bridgerton (Rokesbys #3)(85)
“So are—”
“Shhhh.” He put a finger to her lips. “Do not contradict me. If I want to call you beautiful, I will do so without interruption.”
“But—”
“Shush.”
“I—”
His mouth found hers again, hungry and mischievous, nibbling at the edge of her lips as he murmured, “There are many ways to silence you, but none so pleasant as this.”
Poppy had only wanted to say that he was beautiful too, but as he kissed his way down to the edge of her gown, it no longer seemed so imperative. And when she felt the fabric slide ever further down her body, almost baring her breasts, she could do nothing but arch her back to ease the way.
He looked up, his eyes hot but clear. “Do you want me to stop?”
No.
“Not yet,” she whispered.
And then his lips found her, closing over the peak of her breast in a kiss more intimate than she could ever have dreamed. She gasped his name and arched off the bed, barely able to comprehend the electricity he seemed to spark within her.
He kissed and touched and stroked, and Poppy was helpless against his onslaught. He knew exactly where to kiss, exactly how to touch—firmly, gently, with his teeth. Everything he did brought pleasure—but it was an agonizing pleasure, because she needed more.
Something was building inside her.
“What are you doing to me?” she gasped.
He went still. Looked up. “Do you want me to stop?”
No .
“Not yet,” she whispered.
And then his hand moved between her legs, touching her more intimately than she had ever done so herself.
She was wet, unnaturally so—or so she thought. She nearly scooted out from under him, so embarrassed was she by the flood of moisture between her legs. But then he groaned and said, “You’re so wet for me. So ready.”
And she realized that maybe it wasn’t so unnatural. Maybe it was what her body was supposed to do.
His fingers slid inside, and she gasped again. She knew this was where he would eventually join with her, but still, it was a surprise. She felt stretched, and tickled, and it was downright bizarre that someone might be able to touch her from the inside. Bizarre, and yet still . . . right.
“Do you like that?” he whispered.
She nodded. “I think so.”
His fingers went still, but he did not pull them away. “You’re not sure?”
“It’s just very strange,” she admitted.
He rested his forehead against hers, and though she could not see his expression at such close distance, she felt him smile. “That could be interpreted in many ways,” he said.
“No, I . . . I like it. I just . . .” She could not remember the last time she’d been so inarticulate. But if she’d ever had cause, this was it. “It just feels like it is all moving forward and I don’t know where. Or how.”
He smiled again. She felt it.
“I know where,” he said.
His words seemed to reach inside her body, arousing her from the inside out.
“And I know how.” His lips found her ear. “Do you trust me?”
He should have known by now that she did, but she still was grateful that he asked. So she nodded, and then when she wasn’t sure he saw, she said, “Yes.”
He kissed her once, lightly on the mouth, and then his fingers began to move again. It was everything, and it wasn’t enough, and when she gasped, he only seemed to redouble his efforts, bringing her closer . . .
And closer . . .
“Andrew?” She sounded panicked. She hadn’t meant to sound panicked. But she didn’t know what was happening. Her body was no longer her own.
“Just let go,” he murmured.
“But—”
“Let go, Poppy.”
She did.
Something inside her clenched and then burst open, and she had no idea what had just happened to her, but she rose off the bed with enough power to lift him with her.
She could not speak.
She did not breathe.
She was suspended . . . transformed.
Then she collapsed.
She still could not speak, but at least now she was breathing. It took a moment for her eyes to focus, but when they did, she saw Andrew gazing down at her, smiling like a cat in cream.
He looked very proud of himself.
“I saw stars,” she said.
This made him chuckle.
“Actual stars. On the insides of my eyelids, but still.” She closed her eyes again. “They’re gone now.”
His chuckle grew, and he flopped down onto the bed beside her, shaking the mattress with his mirth.
Poppy lay boneless. She had no words to describe what had just happened, although if she thought about it, I saw stars came pretty close.
“Not bad for a first kiss,” Andrew said.
“Second kiss,” she murmured.
It made him laugh. She loved to make him laugh.
She turned to look at him. His beautiful chest was illuminated by the candlelight, and he was watching her with a tenderness that made her long for something more.
She wanted time.
She wanted more time right now, but mostly she wanted a guarantee of tomorrow.
She reached out to touch his shoulder, and he sucked in his breath at the contact.