Gentlemen Prefer Spinsters (Spinsters Club #1)(59)

“Thought you were,” she corrected. “But perhaps I do not mind a little bit of roguish behavior.”

Shifting her shoulder slightly, her gown slipped further down one side, suspended just over her breast. Her breaths came rapidly as she moved closer to him, causing his hand to drop. He dipped a thumb underneath her gown and rubbed over her hardened nipple.

Merry sighed and closed her eyes as he caressed over her aching breast. When he made no effort to go any further, she opened her eyes to find him staring at her.

With a slight shrug of her shoulder, her gown slipped completely off her breast and his hand covered the unsteady beat of her heart through her stays. Ever so slowly, he moved to cup it through her undergarments and excitement quivered inside her. Merry lifted her chin and met his gaze.

“You need not be gentle with me.”

Harry cursed and buried his fingers in her hair, pulling her to him for a kiss. His lips skimmed across hers, nibbling and sucking as if she were some rare delicacy and her legs quivered at the intensity of it. Her nipples chafed against his waistcoat and she moaned at the exquisite sensation. He absorbed her moan, probing his tongue into her mouth and she met it with relish.

Skimming her hands down between them, she worked on the buttons of his waistcoat. He shrugged off his jacket with haste. It dropped to the floor with a thud and he drew back to allow her access to his shirt.

Carefully, she loosened each button, all the while never leaving his darkened gaze. As she leant forward, he brushed a kiss across her forehead, sweeping his thumb over her cheek. She helped him yank his shirt over his head and she smiled at the rumpled image he made with his hair in disarray. Creases appeared around his eyes but Merry could not smile.

She stared at him as he straightened, his muscular chest flexing with every breath. It seemed daunting now, and though she longed to reach out and run her fingers down that broadness, she found herself hesitating.

A glance to his face bolstered her resolve. She wanted this man. Wanted him more than she had ever wanted that house, or to finish her translation. Harry was everything she needed—her other half she supposed. Without him, she really would have buried herself away and become an ageing spinster with only books for friends. He reminded her she wanted more from life.

She wanted him.

Extending her hand out, tracing it down the ridges of his stomach, she watched his muscles contract under her touch and she could hear the harsh rasp of his breath, but he remained motionless, allowing her exploration of him. Her other hand joined in now, skimming over his collar bone until she flattened both palms over his chest.

His throat worked as she traced her finger down it before placing a kiss at the base of his neck, where his pulse flickered erratically. Bringing his hands up to clutch her head to him, he let her nuzzle into his smooth skin, inhaling the musky scent of him. He dipped his head to nip at her ear, his hot breath sending shivers coursing through her.

His fingers worked at her stays then pushed the garment, along with her dress, to the floor. He stepped back to admire, then bundled her to him. The shock of the heat of his chest against hers had her head swimming. He skewed his mouth across hers, and his fingers pressed into her back.

She whimpered at the friction and he hissed as she shifted her hips to meet his, pushing against his rigid manhood. He dragged his hands away and made quick work of the rest of his garments. Her breath caught, and she could not help stare at him. Sweet Mary, all those Greek Gods had nothing on Harry.

Tentatively, she reached out and carefully explored the length of him. She curled her hand around him. “Did I do this to you?”

“Yes.” he grated out.

Ever so slowly she released him, drawing her gaze back to his. “Touch me. Make me yours.”

“Yes,” he agreed, taking her into his arms.

She buried her face into his neck as he carried her over to the fur rug in front of the empty fireplace.

As he laid her down gently, she could not tear her gaze from his body. No wonder she had struggled so much to fight this need for him. The heady desire blurred with the warm sensation of love in her chest.

He positioned himself next to her, propping himself up on his elbow and his gaze traced her length. She tried to keep the heat from flowing into her cheeks under his study, but likely failed. No man had ever seen her like this and the desire to cover herself made her fingers twitch. But if she was going to prove she loved him, that she trusted him, she needed to bare herself to him—in so many ways.

Plucking out a few pins and spreading her hair about her, he fingered the waves as they fell over her breasts and hips. She rose to meet his touch, her lids flickering shut of their own accord, lips parted in a quiet moan. Silently, he traced his finger down her profile, pausing to dip into her mouth. Her tongue instinctively darted out to meet his fingertip and a slightly strangled sound came from him. His fingers continued down the arch of her neck before dipping between her breasts and circling around each nipple.

“Harry,” she whimpered.

He answered her with a searing kiss as he clasped his hand around her breast, his fingers scraping over her hardened nipple. Merry met his kiss eagerly but he pulled back.

Ignoring her sounds of protest, he moved back, and she soon became absorbed in the kisses that he lay upon her sheening skin. She writhed underneath him, gasping at each touch of his lips upon her flesh. Harry kissed down her collar bone, lavishing attention on her breasts before moving down, brushing over her quivering belly. His fingers finally tracked a path to the juncture of her thighs and he admired her before stroking across the sweet damp heat that awaited him.