Three Nights with a Scoundrel (Stud Club #3)(60)

Clearly, the only way to make sure this new, audacious version of Lily arrived home safe was to take her there himself. So regardless of who might be following him—following them—Julian barked the address at the driver and climbed into the cab.

The cab’s interior was dark and cold as a tomb. He’d barely settled himself on the seat when Lily landed in his lap. The coach lurched into motion, throwing them together. He reflexively grabbed her bared arms to steady her. His fingers slid over skin dotted with gooseflesh. It was cold, and she’d left her wrap behind. He slid his palms up and down her arms, trying to warm her. He needed to warm her, and desperately. Because now that he’d noted the little bumps on her arms, he could not help but notice the twin darts of her hardened ni**les pressing against his chest. As the carriage rumbled over the cobbled streets, too many enticing parts of her jounced and rubbed against frantic parts of him.

“Julian,” she said huskily, “you were right the other morning. You know me so well. I’m not made for illicit affaires, all that sneaking around to avoid discovery.” In the dark, her hands crept up his shoulders, then his face. Her fingers teased through his hair. “Why should we hide at all? Let all London see us together. I don’t care what anyone says or thinks. I love you, and I want the world to know.”

He wanted to weep. For joy, for frustration. She was so brave, his beautiful Lily, and the situation was so damned unfair. It wasn’t her fault that she made these heartrending declarations at a moment when their lives were probably in danger and he couldn’t possibly reciprocate. That fault was his, for choosing to live the way he had and making the decisions he’d made. He didn’t deserve her, didn’t deserve her love. He most certainly didn’t merit these warm brushes of her lips against his skin. But damned if he could bring himself to stop them.

“We’re in love, Julian. Isn’t it wonderful?”

“No,” he murmured as she kissed him again. “It’s not wonderful. It’s a disaster.”

Her lips grazed his jaw, then his throat. “I can feel you speaking, and I know you’re probably making some valiant protest. But you know I can’t hear those words. Your body is making an altogether different argument, and I’m listening to it.” Her fingers crept inside his waistcoat, splaying over the thin lawn of his shirt. “Take your heart, for example.”

Yes, take it. Take it and keep it, always.

“It’s pounding so fiercely. Just battering my hand. What a wonder it is. I worry that your ribs may not contain all that vigor and emotion. And your breath …” She raised her fingers to his mouth, tracing his lips with a slow, gentle touch. He fought the urge to nip at her fingers, suck their silk-gloved tips into his mouth. “Your breath is coming so fast.” She put a hand to his voice box. “Was that a groan?”

Of course it was. She was driving him fair insane with desire. His erection swelled against her thigh.

“And your hands …” She slid one hand down his arm, until her gloved fingers covered his bare ones where they clutched the edge of the seat. “They’re trembling, just a little bit. Because you’re just a little bit frightened. It’s all right, Julian. I’m scared, too. I’m not fond of the dark. I hate not being able to hear or see. But I know I’m safe with you.”

“No, you aren’t, Lily. You’re not safe with me, not tonight. Even now, there could be someone following—”

Insensible to his objection, she spoke over him. “And I’m beginning to appreciate, in the absence of sight, a heightened sense of touch is exquisite compensation. I want to touch you everywhere.”

She smoothed her hands over his shoulders and chest, exploring every ridge and plane, skimming down to the rippled surface of his tensed abdomen.

Lower, his basest instincts urged her. Lower. Put your hands on me there.

She did him one better. Taking leverage from the seat back, she repositioned herself so that she straddled his lap. As she nestled snug against his groin, her breath tickled his ear. “I should have cornered you in a darkened space years ago. I know you want me, Julian. Your body’s telling me so, in no uncertain terms.”

She didn’t know. She couldn’t possibly know how long and how fiercely he’d wanted her. How crudely, and in how many strange contortions of limbs. To demonstrate, he slid both hands to her hips and rocked her pelvis against his, stroking delicious friction over his rampant arousal. She gasped. He moaned, desperate for more. More pleasure from her body, more sweet promises from her lips. More Lily.

She caught his hand and brought it to her breast, now popped free of her corset entirely, positioning his thumb directly over the puckered knot of her nipple. Her tone was coy, seductive. “What does my body tell you, I wonder?”

Her breast molded to the shape of his hand. The soft globe warmed in his palm. Still, her nipple protruded against his thumb, tangible proof of her arousal.

“It tells me I’m lost,” he muttered, lowering his head to her breast. “It tells me I’m weak and shameless and completely, utterly damned.”

His mouth closed around her nipple, and the darkness exploded with stars. Lily’s mouth fell open in shock and delight. He kneaded the soft weight of her breast with his fingers, pulling the peak deeper into his mouth. She curled one hand into his hair, holding him to her as he licked and loved the sensitive tip.