Jacquie D'Alessandro - [Regency Historical 04] (20 page)

“Huh?”

“‘Puss in Boots.’ The fairy tale. Except there isn’t a king here to offer me his robe. Only you.” He raised one dark brow. “I don’t suppose you’d care to remove your dress?”

Dear God, she’d love nothing better. Especially since it was so
hot
out here. She felt as if she were roasting from the inside out. Sanity, however, prevailed, and she lifted her chin. “Certainly not.” Egad, was that squeaky noise her voice?

“Not even in the name of good sportsmanship? It would certainly even the playing field, don’t you agree?”

“I don’t see how both of us being naked would even the playing field at all.”

“No? Well, I’d be delighted to show you.”

“I believe I’ve seen…”
Not nearly enough
. “…quite enough, thank you.”

“Perhaps you could explain what you’re doing here? You gave me your word you wouldn’t wander off alone.”

“I wasn’t alone. I was with B.C….” Her voice trailed off as she realized the dog no longer stood beside her. She glanced quickly around, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Humph
. Wretched deserter. See if he ever got another biscuit from
her
. “…who was here just a moment ago, I assure you. But in any event, I knew I wouldn’t be alone once I found you.”

A smile that could only be described as wolfish curved his lips. “So you came in search of me. I’m flattered. Had you hoped to join me for a swim?”

“Of course not. I saw you stealing off into the woods and—”

“And once again you suspected me of searching for the jewels without you?”

Another wave of heat, this one guilt-induced, crept up her neck. “Not exactly. It was more a case of wanting to prove that you
weren’t
searching without me.”

“Ah. Well, as you can see, I was not.”

“Right. You were swimming. Isn’t the water rather cold this time of year?”

“As a matter of fact, it’s very cold.”

“You like cold water?”

“Not at all.”

“Then why were you swimming?”

“Are you certain you want to know the answer?”

Good lord, she wasn’t certain of anything, least of all why she continued to stand as if nailed in place and converse with him while he was still naked. And wet. And naked.

She swallowed. “Why do you continually ask if I want to know the answers to my questions?”

“Because I suspect you may not
really
want to hear the answer. Or be prepared for it. The unvarnished truthful answer, that is. As opposed to the sugarcoated drivel your Society acquaintances would offer you.”

“I assure you, I am perfectly prepared to hear why you were swimming.”

“Very well. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. The thought of touching you, kissing you, making love to you, was driving me to distraction. I’d hoped a swim in the cold water would take the edge off my ardor. As you might have noticed, it didn’t.” He looked pointedly downward and Victoria’s gaze followed his.

Holy. Saints. Above.

“You’re blushing, Victoria.”

Her gaze jumped back up to his. “Am I? Yes, I suppose I am. I’ve, er, never seen a naked man before.”

“Yet why should that embarrass
you
? If anyone at this impromptu party felt the need to be embarrassed, surely it would be the person who was naked.”

“
Are
you embarrassed?”

“No. Embarrassed isn’t what I’m feeling. Obviously.”

Obviously
. “Well. That’s good. Because as far as I can tell, you have, um, nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Thank you. Neither do you. I told you there’s no need for you to ever be embarrassed around me, Victoria.”

Yes, he’d told her. But her embarrassment had nothing to do with his reaction and everything to do with her own. With the fact that instead of turning away, she couldn’t stop staring at him. She wanted to touch him so much she actually trembled. How would all that beautiful male skin feel beneath her hands? Her lips? She’d always considered herself a lady, but there was absolutely nothing ladylike about what she wanted to do to him. What she wanted him to do to her.

Her skin felt tight, hot, beneath her gown, which was suddenly far too restrictive, constricting her breathing until her breaths came in shallow puffs. Her nipples hardened into aching points, and the flesh between her thighs grew heavy, pulsing in tandem with her rapid heartbeat.

“Are you all right, Victoria?”

She moistened her lips. “Are you?”

“There you go, answering a question with a question again.”

“Which I normally never do. It is all your fault. You
make me—” She pressed her lips together to stem the flow of words.

He took a step toward her and her heart stuttered. “I make you what?”

Tremble. Ache. Want things I shouldn’t
. “Say things I normally wouldn’t say. Do things I normally wouldn’t do.”

“Perhaps that is good. Perhaps you’re discovering new aspects of your nature. Or freeing traits you’ve kept hidden, knowingly or unknowingly.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Any number of reasons. The constraints of Society. Because your past experiences haven’t allowed you enough freedom to
know
your true nature. Therefore you just do what’s expected of you rather than what your heart desires. Speaking your mind, acting on your impulses, they can be very liberating.”

“One can’t simply say or do whatever they want.”

“Not very often,” he agreed, “and not with all people. But sometimes…sometimes you can.” He took another step closer. “Feel free to say anything you want to me.” Another step. “Or do anything you want.”

A half-dozen things she wanted to do to him instantly crowded into her mind, firing more heat into her face. His gaze drifted over her flaming cheeks and a wicked gleam glittered in his eyes. “Any chance you’d make a similar offer to me, my lady?”

Yes, please
. “No, thank you.”

“That is…disappointing. But my offer stands.” He took three more steps forward. Now less than an arm’s length separated them. “One of the things I’ve come to admire about you is your courage. There’s nothing to be afraid of. This place is completely private. So tell me, Victoria…what do you want?”

Dear God, he made her want so many things. But really, it all came down to just one. “I want to touch you.”

The words came out in a rush. Without hesitation he plucked from her grasp the forgotten bundle of his clothes she still clutched to her chest then tossed the items aside. Before she had a chance to even draw a breath, he clasped her wrists and settled her hands in the center of his chest. “Then touch me.”

The fire burning in his eyes dissolved her thoughts. Melted her modesty. And ignited her courage. Heat seeped into her palms and her gaze dropped to her hands, pale against the golden tan of his skin. He released her wrists, lowering his hands to his sides, and she experimentally splayed her fingers. Warm. He was so warm. And firm. Smooth. Like toasted satin over iron.

She slowly dragged her palms outward, flattening the beads of water that still clung to his skin, his silky rough chest hair curling between her fingers.

“Your heart is pounding,” she whispered.
Nearly as hard and fast as mine.

“Surely that doesn’t surprise you.”

She shook her head. At least she thought she did. She meant to, but every ounce of her attention was focused on watching her hands again glide across his chest. His quickened breathing left no doubt that he liked that, encouraging her to grow bolder. Smoothing her hands upward, she followed the line of his broad shoulders, then down over his powerful arms to his elbows.

“You’re very strong,” she murmured.

He emitted a rough, humorless sound. “Normally I’d agree,” he said in a deep rasp. “Right now, however, my armor is feeling decidedly…
aahhhh
…” Her fingertips brushed over his nipples. “…dented.”

His muscles jumped beneath her gentle touch, and a wave of feminine satisfaction such as she’d never known rushed through her. Emboldened, fascinated, transfixed, she dragged her hands slowly downward, absorbing the texture of his flat, ribbed abdomen, and the shudder that ran through him. Shifting her hands outward, she skimmed down the vee of his waist, then over his hips until she couldn’t reach any lower without bending her locked knees, and rested her palms on his hair-roughened thighs. His manhood rose between them. Fascinating. Beckoning. He seemed to have stopped breathing, and she looked up.

The raw intensity in his gaze shook her. Any doubts she may have harbored that she affected him as profoundly as he did her vanished with that single look. Keeping her gaze locked on his, she brushed the back of her fingers over his arousal.

His eyes snapped closed and his nostrils flared as he pulled in a sharp breath. Again she trailed her fingers over him, stunned at how hot he felt. This time he rewarded her with a low groan. With her own breaths coming in erratic puffs through her parted lips, she looked down and watched herself caress the hard length of him, first with one hand, then with both, his groans growing more guttural with each pass of her fingers over his silky, hot flesh. His hands remained clenched in a white knuckle grip at his sides, and she could see the muscles in his legs, his arms and shoulders, his jaw and neck flexing, straining with the effort he expended to remain still. Spellbound, she wrapped her fingers around him and gently squeezed.

“Victoria…” Her name ended on a low moan. She squeezed him again, then brushed the pad of her thumb over the velvety engorged head.

“Done.” The word was a tortured groan that sounded wrenched from his throat. He grasped her wrists and pulled her hands from him. “Damn it,
done
. Can’t take any more.”

Before she could so much as draw a breath, he yanked her against him and crushed his mouth to hers. But no breath would have been deep enough, no preparation thorough enough, for the onslaught of this kiss. Where during their picnic he’d barely touched her, now he seemed to touch her everywhere, head to toe, his arms clasping her to him so tightly she could feel his heat, his strength, through her clothing all the way down to her feet. He kissed her as if he wanted to devour her, and she clung to his shoulders, ready, willing, desperate to be devoured, reveling in every nuance of his tongue exploring her mouth with such fevered, passionate perfection.

With a moan of pure pleasure, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on. He kissed her again and again, drugging meldings of lips, breath, and tongues, reducing her to a tiny boat adrift in a fierce storm, desperately trying to stay afloat in the sea of sensation drowning her.

Utterly lost, she strained closer to him, plunging her fingers through his still damp hair, pressing her aching breasts against his chest, overheated, burning. Wanting. Needing.

She squirmed against him and he changed tempo, gentling their wild, frantic exchange to a slow, deep, languid seduction that pulled her deeper into the vortex of dizzying need. His hands roamed freely down her back, up her sides, then between them to caress her breasts. She arched into his palms, a silent plea he instantly answered. One warm hand slipped into her bodice, his fingers, his magical fingers, stroking one aching nipple, then the other, shooting fire straight to her womb.

Abandoning her lips, he kissed his way down her neck, then also deserted her bodice, skimming his hands down her back. Cool air touched her overheated limbs and she realized he’d lifted her skirt, the material bunched around her waist. With nothing but her linen drawers now between them, he insinuated one knee between hers and she willingly spread her legs wider, seeking to press her aching feminine flesh against him. Cupping her buttocks, the heat of his palms branding her through the thin material, he urged her higher, tighter against him, guiding her hips in slow circles against his hard thigh.

Victoria’s head fell back and a long moan of pure pleasure vibrated in her throat. She was vaguely aware of him kissing her neck, of her hands gripping his bare shoulders, but all her focus narrowed to the throbbing flesh between her legs. To the incredible sensations jolting through her with each circle of her hips from his guiding hands. He increased the pace, and her breath became ragged, choppy, her hips undulating, pressing harder against him, more desperate, seeking relief, moving closer to the precipice of something…something…

And then it was as if she soared over the edge and dove into a whirlpool of sensation. Pleasure spasmed through her, dragging a surprised cry from her lips that melted into a low growling sound as the tremors tapered off, then subsided. Weak with a delightful, boneless languor, she leaned forward, grateful for the support of his strong arms around her. Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead in the curve where his neck and shoulder met and drew a deep breath. Her head filled with the scent of his skin—a warm, delicious, heady scent she couldn’t describe other than to know that it intoxicated her. And that she would never forget it.

When her breathing evened and she felt able to move, she lifted her head. And stared into his serious gold-flecked hazel eyes. Dear God, the way he’d made her feel…she’d read about a woman’s pleasure in the
Ladies’ Guide
, but the description in no way did justice to what she’d just experienced. And he’d given her that pleasure without even intimately touching her. What on earth would it be like if he had? How much more incredible could it be?

She felt a pressing need to say something, to acknowledge what had just happened to her, but for the life of her, she couldn’t think of any words befitting the occasion. No doubt in a week or two she’d think of something brilliant, but right now all she could find to say was, “Nathan.”

His expression softened and the ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Victoria.” He gently tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Are you all right?”

She briefly closed her eyes and released a long, feminine sigh. “I’m…marvelous. Except for my knees. I seem to have misplaced them.”

His grin flashed, then he brushed the pad of his thumb over her lips. “I didn’t hurt you?”