All I Ever Needed (29 page)

He kissed her throat and the underside of her jaw, and Sophie heard the small catch of a breath that she did not identify at first as her own. He came back to her mouth, and she opened it under his. His tongue swept the underside of her lip before plunging deeply. It made a pleasant rasp against her own tongue as she pressed it into play. The suck of his mouth sapped what was left of her ability to stand, or maybe it was only that he chose that moment to lift her off her feet and carry her to the bed.

Sophie was surprised when he set her on the edge and dropped to his knees in front of her. She had conceived a few notions of how things might proceed, and none of them accounted for this. She tried not to allow her uncertainty to show but knew she had not been successful when he smiled at her in that knowing manner of his.

Without looking away, Eastlyn lifted one of Sophie's feet and placed it on his thigh. He unlaced the soft slipper with an economy of motion that was most deliberate in nature. He watched her gaze fall to where his fingers worked and was satisfied when he saw the pale pink wash of color rise from her throat to her cheeks. Reaching under her nightgown, he found the top of her stocking at a point just above her knees and untied the ribbon that kept it there. He rolled it carefully all the way to her toes, letting the ribbon that he had wound between his fingers slide silkily against her skin.

Sophie was breathing less steadily by the time Eastlyn raised her other foot. Knowing what he would do did nothing to settle her tripping heartbeat. Rather, the anticipation of his searching fingertips was more than Sophie thought she should be made to bear. She almost raised her shift and told him to have done with it, yet she kept her silence because there was another part of her that could never want this thing to be hurried.

Sophie was learning something about herself that Eastlyn seemed to already know.

She glanced at him when he finished removing the second stocking. His eyes were more black than chestnut-colored now, and there was a faint flaring to his nostrils as he breathed deeply. He did not release her foot but began massaging it instead, first her instep, then the arch. The sky blue ribbons he had collected from above her knees were still wound about his fingers. The ends of them trailed along his thigh as his fingers gently kneaded the ball of her foot.

Sophie could not help herself. When Eastlyn did the same to her other foot, she leaned back on her elbows and closed her eyes. She did not even mind when she heard his low, satisfied chuckle. It surpassed reason, she thought, that she should come to care not at all that he was laughing at her.

Eastlyn released Sophie's foot. It dangled a few inches above the floor, and she made no effort to draw it up. He slipped his hands under her shift again and found the backs of her knees. He pulled her so that her bottom rested close to the edge of the mattress and the breadth of his chest and shoulders splayed her knees. He felt every part of his body respond to the musky woman's scent of her.

The indecency of her position pushed Sophie upright as little else could have done. She made an attempt to close her thighs but was blocked by Eastlyn's body and his light grip on the backs of her knees. She relaxed when he merely held her still, and she noted a measure of indecision on his taut features. He grinned at her suddenly, though it seemed as if the line of that quick smile was a trifle pained. His brows lifted a notch, and the glint in his eyes mocked himself.

His voice was softly husky. "All in good time, Sophie."

It seemed to her that she should make a reply, but the proper response eluded her. She was vaguely disappointed when his palms slid along the length of her calves and reappeared from under the hem of her shift. He shook out the ribbons from between his fingers and reached for her robe's sash. The loose knot was undone easily, and he parted the material so his hands could rest at her waist. The lawn fabric of her nightgown was no barrier at all to the heat of his palms.

"Take off your robe."

Sophie shrugged, and the silky material simply slid off her shoulders. The neckline of her gown was cut wide and low, and one of the straps dropped past the curve of her collarbone. She started to lift it, but Eastlyn shook his head and she left it there. Her hand hovered a moment, caught between the act of righting her gown and doing nothing at all. When she lowered it, she let her fingertips graze the side of his face and her thumb touch the corner of his mouth.

He turned his lips into her hand and kissed the heart of her palm. Sophie felt it as a sudden heaviness in her breasts and a flash of heat between her parted thighs. She bit her lip to quell the sound that rose in her throat.

Eastlyn let his hands fall to either side of Sophie's waist as he stood. The small lighted candle she had placed at her bedside extinguished itself, and the room had only the glow of the coals in the fireplace to save them from darkness. "Do you require help turning down the covers?" he asked.

Glad for the shadows that lingered over East's face and her own, Sophie shook her head. She eased herself up the bed until she could turn back the blankets and then slipped under them.

"Do not become too comfortable there," he said. "I sleep on that side."

She could claim no such ownership of a particular side as she had never shared her bed before. She began to move over and was stopped by his hand on her shoulder.

"Stay where you are. I am not for sleep just yet."

"Oh." Sophie watched him begin to remove his frock coat. "I thought perhaps you had changed your mind."

East paused his fingering of the brass buttons. "No," he said. "Have you?"

"No." Though she was having some regrets now about the candle being gutted.

Eastlyn did not know if he should be as relieved as he was by her answer. He was not unmindful of using her to get what he wanted, yet he could not dismiss the notion that he was being used as well. In spite of the fact that he was the one experienced here, he continued to think that Sophie had acquired the upper hand.

He removed his frock coat and loosened his stock. Aware that she had not averted her gaze, Eastlyn said, "Tell me about that other naked man."

Sophie blinked, and her eyes lifted from where they had been leveled at the waistband of his trousers back to his face. "Naked man?"

"The one you swore to me you have seen before." He pulled the tails of his shirt free, then sat on the edge of the bed and raised one leg to remove a boot. "Or was it all a lie?"

"It was no lie. His name was Timothy Darrow, and he was a groom at Tremont Park."

"He is no longer there?"

She shook her head. "He was dismissed."

"Because you saw him naked."

"No. Because he was never good with the horses. No one save him and Katie Masters ever knew I saw him stripped of his breeches."

Eastlyn was beginning to get an inkling of what had happened. His erection was pressing painfully hard against his own breeches, and yet he did not think he had ever been so diverted as he was now. He let his boot thump to the floor, which had the effect of bringing Sophie's attention back to his face. He served her an arch grin and began removing the other boot and stocking. "And who was Katie?" he asked.

"One of the scullery maids." Sophie jerked a bit as he dropped the second boot and was a shade breathless as she explained, "I spied them
flagrante delicto."

Eastlyn's chuckle resided deep in his throat and gave sound to the perfectly roguish smile that still lifted the corners of his mouth. "I see. Then you are a great deal more worldly than I had thought."

"You are having fun with me."

"Yes, I am." East leaned over her and placed his hands on either side of her shoulders. "And I intend to have a great deal more." He lowered his head and fit his mouth to hers. Her lips parted immediately, and it was as if there had been no pause between what he had done to her before and what he was doing to her now. Her arms came around his shoulders, and she bore the weight of him against her breasts. He pushed at the blankets that separated them and felt her move to accommodate the same urgency to be closer.

Sophie whimpered softly as East's lips tugged at the curve of her neck. His tongue flicked her skin. She felt his mouth on her collarbone and his teeth pulling at the edge of her shift. He caught the tip of her breast in his mouth through the fabric and sucked. Her response was immediate. She arched under him as a ribbon of heat uncurled along the length of her spine, making her breasts swell and ache and turning her insides to liquid. The dampening of her shift around her nipple, the slight abrading quality of the material, made her feel even the most delicate touch of his tongue.

When he raised his head, she shifted restlessly at the loss and was comforted to the point of madness when he applied the same singular skill to her other breast.

She was extraordinarily responsive in his arms, to his touch, and Eastlyn found a great measure of satisfaction in wresting those small cries from her throat and feeling the tension in her just beneath the surface of her skin. So pliant was she, so receptive to whatever was done to her, that he could scarce temper his own desire to feel her release.

Sophie drew a ragged breath as Eastlyn rolled away. He lay beside her with his forearm across his brow, and she noted that his own breathing was not much steadier. There was no part of her that did not ache with need. She remembered Timothy Darrow tumbling Katie Masters in the stable and how little she had thought there was to recommend that activity. Another opinion in want of revision, she decided.

"You are smiling," Eastlyn said. He was propped on one elbow now, regarding her mouth with particular interest.

"Hmm?" She glanced at him. His eyes so darkly intent on the shadowed curve of her mouth made her stomach curl deliciously. "Yes. I suppose I am." When she was wrong—as she was about Tim and Katie—she was
very
wrong. Spectacularly so.

"Take off your shift, Sophie."

That order, summarily given and brooking no argument, collapsed her smile and quickened her heartbeat. Sophie reached for the hem of her nightgown, already rucked above her knees, and pulled it up to the tops of her thighs. At that point her fingers caught the edge of the patchwork quilt, and she drew it over her as she raised her shift. She managed to lift it as high as her breasts before she felt resistance.

"You must think you are very clever."

Sophie looked down at the fistful of quilt in Eastlyn's possession. "I am." She quickly pulled the shift over her head as she scooted under the blanket. He pulled it away from her, of course, but she was already turned on her stomach and unable to entirely restrain her laughter.

"You would not be so amused," he said dryly, "if you knew what a lovely target your bottom presents."

That brought Sophie's head up and effectively silenced her. She held her breath as he lifted his hand... and brought it down with infinite gentleness on the curve of her buttocks. He caressed the taut flesh until he reached the back of her thigh and then let his fingers trail up again so they came to rest at the small of her back.

"You're trembling." East could feel the tremor just beneath her skin. He let his hand wander the length of her spine, massaging her back just below her shoulder blades.

He watched her head bow as she relaxed until it finally came to rest on the pillow again. He felt her gaze on him as his fingers slipped into her hair. She made no protest when he removed the anchoring pins, and when he actually sifted through the tumble of curls to touch her nape, she sighed.

Eastlyn sat up and removed his shirt and neckcloth, letting them fly over the edge of the bed to join Sophie's discarded shift on the floor.

"I only saw his bare arse," Sophie said as Eastlyn moved to unbutton his breeches. She offered this quickly in the manner of a confession most reluctantly given. "Timothy Darrow, I mean. It was only his arse."

"Bloody hell, Sophie. You do say the most singular things."

"Are you choking?"

East cleared his throat. "Quite possibly." He lifted a dark brow as his fingers returned to his breeches. "Unless you turn away you are going to see considerably more than my bare backside."

She sat up instead and pushed his hands out of the way. He watched her face as her fingers worked. The meager light from the fireplace could not explain the suffusion of warmth in her cheeks. He did not try to assist her until she had the drawstring of his drawers untied and her fingertips curled around the material at his waist. He rose up the few inches necessary to remove the last of his clothes. When he was done, Sophie pushed them out of the way and over the side, though her eyes never strayed from the proof of his arousal.

Eastlyn lay back and pulled Sophie with him. She fit herself neatly at his side with no urging from him, one leg raised against his thigh, an arm flung across his chest. Her lips were very near his shoulder, and he could feel her light breath on his skin. "You are very quiet of a sudden," he said.

"It's rather a lot to take in."

That gave him pause. "Is your meaning figurative or literal?"

"Both, I think."

East turned his face and found the top of her head with his lips. He laid his smile in the sweet scent of her unbound hair. "You had better kiss me, then. You will find it more easily borne that way."