Then Came You (The Gamblers #1)(62)

Lily felt his gaze on her down-bent head, heard the deepening rasp of his breath. She wondered at the reason for his hesitation. Perhaps he might change his mind and let her go…the thought filled her with hope and an odd, sinking dread. Then he took her shoulders around and turned her to face away from him. He began to unfasten the row of tiny buttons at the back of her gown. The garment slipped precariously, held up only by the wispy sleeves that clung to her shoulders. Slowly the mass of silk and lace slid to the floor. He loosened the ribbon of her drawers and pushed them down, leaving her clad only in the flimsy protection of her white shift and embroidered stockings.

She felt his mouth on her shoulder, his breath wafting in a hot mist against her skin. Gently his arm came around her front, his hand passing over her chest. The floor seemed to shift beneath her feet. Leaning back against his solid strength, she hardly dared to breathe as his fingers curved underneath the slight weight of her breast. Lightly his thumb moved over the shift until he found her nipple, teasing it to a hard point. She couldn’t suppress a gasp, the movement lifting her further into his hand. But the elusive wisp of pleasure was doused by a wave of self-consciousness. Her br**sts were small—he must have expected more; her gowns were designed to make her look fuller. A stumbling explanation came to her lips, but before she could utter a word, his hand slipped beneath the shift to cover her na**d breast. His fingertips stroked over the smooth curve, finding the dainty crest of her nipple.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said thickly, his mouth at her ear. “Beautiful…like a perfect little doll.” Breathing deeply, he turned her to face him, his hands pushing her shift down until her br**sts burgeoned over the top. The swollen ridge of his loins prodded against her stomach and the secret place between her thighs, and she turned hot with embarrassment. But he seemed to relish the intimate pressure, giving a soft groan, his hand clenching over her bu**ocks to hold her in place. “Lily…God, Lily…” Covering her mouth with his, he reached inside with deep velvet licks. She yielded to the sleek invasion, her arms wrapping tight around his neck. Suddenly he released her with a gravelly sound. He dragged at the sleeves of his coat, trying to struggle out of it, but the garment clung to him like a second skin. Muttering a curse, he lifted his head and pulled harder at the sleeves.

To his surprise, Lily’s small hands crept to his lapels, spreading them open, pushing the coat from his shoulders. It dropped to the floor in a heap. Not meeting his eyes, she touched his silk waistcoat and began to unfasten it slowly. The garment was warm from his body. Alex stood motionless, his heart slamming in his chest as he felt the pluck of her fingers against the covered buttons. When the task was done, he shrugged out of the waistcoat and unwound his starched white cravat.

As Lily watched him undress, a vague recollection stirred, causing a chill to sweep through her. She had tried to forget the night with Giuseppe, but the memory swept over her—his swarthy olive skin covered with black hair, the greedy haste of his hands searching her body. She sat on the edge of the bed and willed herself to stop thinking, to swallow back the emotions rising high in her throat.

“Lily?” Alex tossed his shirt aside and knelt before her, settling his hands on either side of her hips.

As she stared into his intent gray eyes, the unpleasant memory vanished like smoke into air. Her vision was filled with him crouching there like an inquiring tiger, his skin and hair burnished gold. Tentatively she reached to his shoulder. Without conscious direction, her fingers moved lower, grazing the uneven border of springy, coppery hair. He was close enough that her calves were pressed into the ridged muscle of his stomach. He kept her at the edge of the bed, his fingers moving to the top of her thigh. Lily held her breath as he deftly unfastened her garter and began to roll her stocking down.

Something made him pause. His fingertip touched the tautness of her inner thigh, where years of riding astride had pared down a woman’s usual plump softness. Bashfully she tried to pull the hem of the shift down, covering herself. “No,” he muttered, brushing her hands away. His head dropped closer and closer into her lap. She tensed in astonishment as she felt his mouth against her inner thigh. The scrape of his cheek, the intimate heat of his breath, sent an electric shock through her. With a stammering denial, she tried to push his head away, but he caught her knees in his large hands and pressed them wide, holding her still.

Alex stared into the tantalizing shadow beneath the hem of the shift. He tightened his hold on her legs as she made a move to be free. His senses burned with awareness of the mysterious softness and scent before him. The protesting ripple of her voice brushed the edge of his consciousness. “Quiet,” he whispered, driven forward by a clamorous beat that resonated through him. “Quiet.”

Searching with his mouth, he pressed into the shadow, using his hands to crush back the delicate edge of her shift as it got in the way. Hotly he breathed into the thick cluster of curls, lured by a maddeningly sweet, carnal scent. He hunted for the source and found softness and a place of damp, trembling sensation. Delving slowly, he drew his tongue through the moisture, back and forth, discovering a rhythm that caused her thighs to quiver against his restraining hands.

Turning ruthless, he probed for the exquisite place where softness gathered into tension, and he opened his mouth to draw her in, pulling gently, gently, until he felt the resistance leave her legs. Her shaking fingers slid into his hair, tangling in the thick waves, pressing him closer. Moving upward, he dragged his mouth through the wet curls, and lifted his head from her body.