From Governess to Countess (Matches Made in Scandal #1)(37)

‘Aleksei,’ she whispered, in that tone that sent his pulse rocketing. ‘Aleksei.’ He adored the way she said his name. Her hands were on his chest, flat over his nipples, making his throat constrict. He eased her gown over her shoulders. He loosened her corset enough to free her breasts, now covered only by a white chemise. He could see the dark, peaked outline of her nipples through the linen.

He untied the ribbon of her chemise. Her skin was like cream and silk, just as he had envisaged. He dipped his head, kissing the warm valley between her breasts, then licked his way around the contours before taking one dark pink nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. Allison arched her back, moaning her pleasure. He was so hard he ached. He sucked on her other nipple. Her nails dug into his back.

He wanted to take his time. He wanted to savour her. But her kisses were fervent, her hands urging him to hurry, and his own body was clamouring for fulfilment in a way that was impossible to resist. When he slid his hand beneath her gown, he forgot all about the kisses he had dreamed of bestowing over her shapely, stocking-clad legs, drawn irresistibly to the heat of her thighs, the musky, damp, feminine core of her. She was so wet, his fingers slid easily into her, the harsh, yet sensuously female cry his touch elicited making his shaft pulse in response. Their kisses were feral now, their tongues thrusting and clashing. He wanted to pleasure her, to linger over the readying of her, but she was more than ready, saying his name over and over and over, a plea he could not resist.

He would curse his lack of his usual finesse later, he knew that as he struggled to unfasten his breaches, to kick off his damned boots at the same time, but Allison didn’t want to wait, and he wasn’t sure that he could.

At last he was free. His shaft sprang to attention. He wanted her to wrap her hands around it, but he couldn’t wait for that either. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked, clinging desperately to the last vestiges of self-control.

‘You really need to ask?’ she replied, pulling him down on top of her. ‘You need not worry, if that is what concerns you, I have the skills to ensure...’

But this was too much to take for granted. It was a matter of honour with him that he always took care. A kiss, the deepest of kisses, the most sensual of kisses. His hands under her full buttocks, lifting her. Slowly, slowly, he entered her. Slowly, he told himself, but as soon as his tip nudged the slick heat of her he was lost, and as soon as he sank into her, her climax took her, strong, pulsing waves that he could not resist. She was crying out, shaking and shuddering under him, and he thrust wildly, hard, driven by a primal need he had never felt before, falling suddenly, fast, to his own completion, only just managing to spend himself safely, in a shuddering climax that felt like it would never end.

*

She was sprawled semi-naked on the bench of the Derevenko state sleigh, with the completely naked His Illustrious Highness Count of Derevenko on top of her. ‘I think we may just have committed treason,’ Allison quipped, because the situation was so unreal, she felt she had to say something.

Aleksei’s laugh seemed very slightly forced. ‘Desecration, perhaps.’ He sat up. His colour was high. His torso seemed tanned. She hadn’t expected that. His chest was smooth. She hadn’t expected that either. The ripple of his hard-packed muscles had had a very unexpected effect on her senses too. In the heat of passion, she hadn’t even been able to look at or to touch the rest of his body, and now she was too embarrassed, in the aftermath, to do anything but look the other way as he grabbed his breeches and pulled them on.

She had behaved like a wild animal. Her one lover had been accomplished and selfless, but had never kissed with the wild abandon of Aleksei’s kisses, had never lost himself totally in passion as Aleksei had. Her response tonight had been visceral, her climax sudden, violent, unstoppable.

Belatedly realising that she was still supine, Allison sat up in a tangle of skirts and petticoats. Her fingers fumbled with her various hooks and fastenings. How did there come to be so many! Her hair most likely looked like a bird’s nest.

‘I’m sorry.’

Startled, she looked up from her attempt to straighten her attire. Aleksei had pulled his shirt on. He was sitting beside her, but they were no longer touching. ‘What for?’ Allison asked, confused.

‘My lack of finesse.’

The white-blond streak in his hair was standing up like a comma. A cow’s lick, her grandmother would call it. ‘Your lack of finesse. I behaved like—like a wanton.’

‘Allison!’ He pulled her into his arms. It was so very, very good, to be able to burrow her head into his shoulder, but Aleksei gently forced her to look up, to meet his eyes. He laughed awkwardly. ‘I wanted it to be perfect but I lost control.’

I lost control. Was it wrong of her, to take delight from those words? ‘We both did.’

His eyes darkened. His smile became sinful. ‘Perfectly so.’

He kissed her, a sated, deep kiss, that gave her confidence. And to her astonishment, made her realise that she was not so sated as she had thought. ‘True perfection,’ Allison said wickedly, ‘is something which requires diligence. There is a saying—if at first you don’t succeed...’

‘Try again?’ Aleksei pulled her to her feet, pulling the back of her gown together, and managing to deal efficiently with the tiny buttons. ‘I look forward to that. But in the meantime...’

‘Is it very late?’