One Week as Lovers (15 page)

His hands worked their way down the hooks without his permission. When the dress began to gape, Cynthia twisted and wiggled until she freed her arms from the clinging wool. Suddenly there was a whole landscape of skin before him. Her flat shoulder blades. The arch of her neck. Her shoulders curving down to bare arms. Gooseflesh dotted her skin, then spread to every exposed inch.

Lancaster worked faster. Within seconds, the dress fell to the floor in a sodden heap.

Cynthia rolled her shoulders, then twisted her one thin petticoat around to untie it. The damp petticoat was nearly transparent, and once it slipped to the floor, he saw that her chemise was damp as well.

The skin of her bottom showed pale pink past the thin white fabric. Her legs were bare beneath it. She must have left her stockings to dry by the hearth downstairs.

“Nick,” she said, turning half toward him with an exasperated eye. “The corset now?”

“Yes,” he said, “Of course.” Did she not notice the strained rasp in his voice? Apparently not, as she bounced a little on the balls of her feet and rolled her eyes.

That tiny bounce drew his attention back to her corset. Not the fashion of the thing, which was plain and clearly well-used. But the fit.

Perhaps it had been made for someone else. Or perhaps purchased years before. Regardless, it no longer fit. Her breasts spilled above the top, nearly flattened to her chest by the tight edge.

“Turn around then,” he murmured, and reached for the ties.

His fingers shook against the ivory ribbons. When he tugged one free, he thought perhaps the whole contraption would part on her next breath, but it stayed tight. He had no choice but to slide his thick fingers along her spine and work the laces loose.

A small groan vibrated from her ribs to his hand. “That feels good.”

Yes, it felt good. Her skin was hot here. He slid one slow hand up to her shoulder to hold her steady while he tugged, and then he closed his eyes and imagined holding her steady for another reason.

Eventually, the corset was loose enough, he supposed, because Cyn began to twist and wiggle, working it down over her hips. He let his hand linger on her shoulder as long as he could, then slid it down her arm, a marvel of cool silk flesh.

She shivered and stepped out of the corset. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.” His words came out a whisper.

“May I borrow a blanket?”

Cynthia shook out her dress as he opened the chest at the foot of his bed and retrieved a blanket of fine red wool. He was sorry to be done with his task, and thankful as hell that she was about to wrap herself up and leave.

He needed her so badly, and it was wrong to want her.

“Here—” he started as he turned to offer the blanket. But the sight of Cynthia stopped him cold.

The nightdress she wore to bed was sturdy and far too large to reveal even a hint of the body beneath. But her shift…her shift was a thin veil. Worn to a sheen, damp from the rain, it clung to her breasts and floated down to flirt with her hips. Her nipples were tight pink buds pressed against the sheer fabric, her breasts shockingly full and round.

Cynthia Merrithorpe was a sensual dream.

As if she realized the strength of his thoughts, Cyn crossed her arms over her chest. “Can I have it or did you decide to keep it for yourself?”

“What?” He’d give her anything she wanted.

“The blanket.”

“Of course.” Aware that he was tempting the beast inside him and no longer sane enough to care, he crossed the yard of space between them. He let the blanket fall open and settled it over her shoulders. He was too close now. Far too close.

His conscience tumbled over the edge of reason and disappeared from sight.

Lancaster cupped her jaw and looked into her happy eyes. “You are so beautiful.”

Those eyes went wide and the happiness blanked to shock. “What?”

“You’re beautiful, Cyn.” He trailed his fingers along her jaw, all the way to the tender skin just below her ear, watching the contrast of his hand against her fine texture. His body swelled to an ache. So did his heart.

She covered his hand with her own. “Nick?”

“I’m sorry,” he breathed and pressed his mouth to hers. She still smelled faintly of rain, as if she were the purest thing in the world. Another reminder that he should leave her be.

Lancaster slid his hand down her neck and lower still. Cynthia didn’t move. She didn’t even seem to breathe. But when he curved his hand under her breast, she gasped. She was a heavy weight against his palm. He dragged his thumb over her nipple, amazed at the contrast of hard against soft.

Cynthia whimpered.

“You like that?”

She nodded, eyes closed, as he pulled back to look at her.

“You’re amazing.” Greedy for more, he tugged her chemise low enough to expose her nipple. He traced the deep pink areola with his blunt fingertip and watched it tighten even further, drawing itself up.

“Nick,” she whispered.

He traced one more circle, then reached for the gathered neckline of her chemise and pulled it the rest of the way off.

Her nude body yanked his breath from his lungs in a brutal theft.

Yes, her breasts were full, and they only looked larger against the contrast of her slim waist. In perfect balance, her hips flared out, rounding down to the soft curve of her thighs.

Lancaster’s mouth watered.

As he watched, her hand moved to cover the dark hair between her legs. He followed the movement, slipping his hand over hers to press her fingers tight to her own body.

“Don’t hide,” he murmured. “You’re so beautiful.”

Her mouth opened as her breath came harder.

Lancaster tucked his thumb under her fingers and eased her hand away. The sight of her dark curls twisted his heart into a knot.

And suddenly being with Cynthia didn’t feel like a mistake at all.

The way he watched so closely filled Cynthia with the need to cover herself again. No man had ever seen her nude before. Not Richmond and not even James. She had no idea how she
should
look, so she didn’t know what Nick might see.

His fingers trailed down her hip, singing along her skin, and Nick lifted his eyes to her and smiled. Not a charming smile or a jaunty grin, but a genuine joy that reached his eyes.

Sweetness swelled into her blood. This was what she wanted. Peace with him, even if it was momentary.

He’d called her beautiful, so maybe she was. Still, her skin was tingling from the intensity of the exposure, so she finally gave up and pulled him along toward the bed.

She yanked back the covers and slipped beneath them. “Now you,” she said once she was covered.

Still smiling, he shook his head in question. “Now me?”

“Your clothing.” She pulled the sheet up past her chin to hide her blush. “Take it off.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, laughing.

“Very.” She liked the way he looked naked. Despite the scars that made her think of things she didn’t wish to, his body was fascinating.

Nick’s smile faded, and he unknotted his dressing robe and let it part. He still wore his breeches beneath, which was a bit of a disappointment. But when he dropped the robe, she took her time looking over his shoulders and wide chest. She wanted to touch him the way he’d touched her, but that would mean emerging from the shield of the bedcovers. She was cozy there and enjoying the show.

He didn’t look away as he reached for the buttons of his breeches, didn’t seem to hesitate at all. He very calmly unfastened each button and then slipped off his breeches and drawers in one motion.

When he stood straight again, Cynthia shrieked. Just a little.

“What is it?” Nick glanced back toward the door as if someone else had surprised her.

“You were smaller,” she whispered in horror.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing.”

Nick frowned. “What’s wrong, Cyn?”

“Nothing.” There was nothing to be done now. She’d just have to smile and nod and bear it. And she wasn’t a virgin anymore. It shouldn’t be too bad, really. She’d just assumed it would be
easier
with him. “Everything’s fine.”

“Can I come in then?”

She lifted the covers slowly enough that he could change his mind if he chose to.

She didn’t understand. He hadn’t seemed particularly soft that first night she’d seen him in the nude, but there must be degrees of…
measurement
to the thing.

“As many naked men as you’ve seen in your life, I didn’t expect you’d be shocked,” he muttered as he slipped in beside her. He slid across the sheets and pressed against Cynthia.

“Ah,” he murmured, but she was too stunned to even breathe. The whole hot length of his body was pressed into her, burning her, as if in the space of one second she’d become part of him. His hand settled on her belly, fingers spread wide.

“Oh, my.”

“You’re so soft,” he breathed, his lips brushing against her cheek.

Hands still clutching the sheet to her chest, Cynthia turned and kissed him. She felt his fingers press tighter to her belly and then gave herself up to the kiss. She drank him in, consumed him, as his hand began a slow journey.

He cupped one breast, then the other, curved his fingers around her ribs, and dipped his thumb into her navel. He
explored
her, as if he’d wondered about her body. As if he’d anticipated these first few touches.

Because they were still kissing, a moment passed before she realized his hand had left her. Nick freed his arm from the covers and took hold of one of her fists. When he eased her hands down, the blanket slid down too.

Her breasts were exposed, and then her belly.

He lay his arm across her, trapping her tight against him. Her hands bunched the sheet against her pelvis.

“Look at you, Cyn,” he breathed just before he lowered his head and closed his lips over her nipple.

His mouth drew at her, even as his tongue rubbed circles, urging startling feelings from deep in her belly. Then his lips parted and it was just his tongue, tracing her nipple, teasing her into a tiny whimper.

He teased like that for long minutes, alternating between light touches and heavy demands, until Cynthia had given up whimpering and was moaning with need.

She’d never felt anything like this before. So needful and hungry. She no longer cared about her worries or his sadness. Her body had taken her over and it would have what it wanted.

Cynthia let go of her death grip on the sheet and pulled her arm free of his hold. She curled her fingers around his upper arm, amazed at the strength in his solid muscles. He was so
male,
looming over her, and yet she felt safe and treasured.

His arm flexed, pushing at her hand. These workings of his body were a new discovery for her senses.

Nick lifted his head and looked at her with heavy-lidded eyes.

She dragged her grip higher, up to his shoulder, then down to marvel at the hair that covered his chest. His eyes followed her, then slowly rose to meet her gaze. The wide pupils looked impossibly black, as if they opened to a well of dark water.

His heart rose to a thunder beneath her palm. And though the hair on his chest was crisp and light and nothing like fur, she couldn’t help but think of a panicked animal.

Not understanding what could be wrong, she waited for some reaction, but Nick said nothing. Drawing a soft circle against his skin, she asked, “Does that feel good?”

He closed his eyes, cutting off the strange fear that had crept into her. “Yes,” he whispered, just before he drew back.

He turned her then, lifting her shoulder so that she faced away from him. A moment of lonely confusion left her cold, but his body made for an excellent distraction from ugly thoughts. He pressed into her back, matching himself to the hollows and curves of her body.

There was no avoiding the largeness of him in this position. His hard length branded her buttocks, a startling heat even against the rest of his warm skin.

But she couldn’t think of that, because Nick wrapped his arms around her and pressed his mouth to her neck. “Are you sure, Cyn?” The words trailed down her shoulder.

“Yes,” she answered immediately, even if it wasn’t quite the truth. This was Nick, and she wanted all of him she could have. She needed to gather him up into her soul and force these memories to stay forever.

“Yes,” she said louder as his hand slid to her sex and stroked there. Whatever this was to Nick, for Cynthia it was a
home,
more real than any she’d had before. This would carry her along the road that lay ahead of her. Through a new life in a strange place among people who did not know her. This memory of Nick would be her home there, whatever else happened.

Pulling her more firmly against him, Nick sucked gently at her neck. His fingers slipped over her in a slow rhythm that made her squirm. Cynthia closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath. It proved an impossible task, even before Nick pushed a finger deep inside her.

Her cry echoed through the room.

“Cyn,” he groaned, driving deeper into her.

She arched into him, parting her legs in encouragement. This felt good. Unbelievably good. His hard body against her back only made it more wickedly delicious. She gasped his name and pressed her head back.

His teeth scraped her neck and made her moan. When he pulled his finger from her body, she whimpered in need.

“Shh,” he whispered, and suddenly there was pressure as he slid two fingers in.

It was almost too much. Cynthia tried to push away and found that she couldn’t move. He slid his fingers out, then slowly pushed them deeper. “Oh, God.
Nick.
”

“Is that good, love?”

Was it
good?
It almost hurt, and yet as the pressure reached toward pain it somehow became something else. Every stroke came closer to unbearable pleasure.

Her body grew more slippery, and the resistance to his fingers was suddenly gone. He slid easily in, and then very slowly out. She didn’t want him to go.

“No,” she whispered, her sex suddenly empty. This was how she’d felt in the hidden passageway, when he’d suddenly stepped back and left her panting. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he said, even as his wet fingers dragged up her belly.

“Don’t!” she protested, but he didn’t obey.

His hand slid higher and cupped her breast. Nick kissed down her neck to her shoulder, then sucked her flesh between his teeth as he teased her nipple with his thumb. When he pinched her, she cried out and pushed hard against his manhood.

She could feel the cool touch of wetness on her nipple, and knew it was from her sex. That seemed terribly improper, somehow, which only made her squirm harder.

“Nick!”

He ignored the pleading in her tone and rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. A coil deep inside her body tightened.

“You can’t know how good you feel, Cyn,” he murmured. “So warm and soft and right. I wish…” He let the words fade away.

When he dragged his hand back down to slip it between her legs, Cynthia pressed the heel of her palm into his wrist to urge him on. Perhaps that decided something for him, because instead of teasing her further, he put his hand on her hip and pushed her around, so that her belly touched the bed. He spread her legs with one knee, then knelt between them.

This was it then. He would have her now.

He crouched over her to kiss her shoulders and her back. The hot weight of his arousal dragged over her bottom.

It was Nick above her this time, so she knew it would be different. Not beautiful or magical perhaps, but better than it had been with James. And yet as he gripped her hips and urged her up to her knees, Cynthia cringed. What if it wasn’t different at all?

Lonely horror welled up inside her. She didn’t want this with him. Didn’t want to feel alone as he rutted at her. Didn’t want to feel dirty as he grunted and groaned and spent himself inside her. She’d felt like a used handkerchief after James had finished. Why had she not considered that Nick might leave her feeling exactly the same?

His hand smoothed down her buttocks and Cynthia cringed. She pressed her hands into the mattress and stared hard at the scrolls of the headboard, and when the tips of his fingers touched the most secret part of her, Cyn felt a tear drop from her eyelashes to vanish into the rumpled sheets below.

He stroked her again, drawing a slow line along the seam of her body. When his hand slipped forward, he touched a spot so sensitive that she jerked against him. His other hand tightened on her hip as he rubbed more firmly.

“Oh,” she sighed, relaxing just a little. Whatever else might happen, this was quite lovely.

He shifted behind her, and suddenly something else rubbed her there. His long arousal slid over that spot as he rocked against her.

“Oh, my.” Perhaps the thing wasn’t entirely awful. It felt rather nice and smooth as it rubbed along her. Cynthia was shocked to find that she had lost the desire to brace herself and hold her breath. Instead she pushed back against him and rocked on her knees to set the pace of his rubbing a little faster. That coil inside her made itself known again. “Mm.”

Then, quite to her surprise, it was actually
happening.
Nick shifted, and when she pushed back, he was sliding
into
her instead of along her. There was pressure and stretching, and she would have pulled away but, strangely enough, Nick was already pulling back.

She was so shocked that she simply froze and blinked down at her hands. It wasn’t until he pushed forward again and sank deep into her body that the realization hit her. His sex was inside her, pushing in, and it felt…good. Smooth and sliding as it had been before, but this time it was tightness too. But no pain. None at all. She didn’t need to hold her breath and bite her lip and beg him to please stop because she’d changed her mind and…

Nick thrust a little harder, and Cynthia gasped in pleasure. The muscles inside her tightened at the shock of it.

“Ah,” he gasped. “Cynthia, you…You’re…”

Heat washed over her at his broken words. He thrust harder and faster and it felt better and better.

She wasn’t lonely. She was
filled
with him.

He thrust hard and deep and then held himself there, snug inside her. His low gasps echoed through the room. Sweat slicked the skin where their thighs pressed together.

When his breath had calmed a bit, Nick leaned over her and curved one arm around her chest to lift her up to her knees. The other arm curled around her belly and he pressed his hand over the curls of her sex. His chest flush against her back, Nick circled his fingers over that little pearl at the top of her sex, and Cynthia cried out.

“That’s it, Cyn,” he murmured, lowering his hips before he thrust up high and hard.

“Oh, God,” she groaned and spread her knees wider.

“Yes.” His fingers teased her as he drove deep. “That’s it, isn’t it, love? That’s what you need.”

“Oh, yes,” she moaned. This was exactly what she needed, and she’d had no idea. But now she needed it so
much.
Her body was tightening up into one great pulsing pleasure that wanted more and more.

“Please,” she begged. “Please, Nick.”

He thrust faster. “Say it again. My name. Call me by my name, Cyn.”

“Nick.” Her belly wound itself tighter. “Nick, you feel so good.” And then she couldn’t make her mouth form words. She could only scream as the pleasure inside her swelled up and devoured her soul. The world went black and bright at the same time.

She heard Nick cry out her name as he pulled free of her body. Heat splashed against her back and dripped down her bottom. His fingers dug bruises into her flesh and she didn’t care in the least.

Cynthia exhaled for a very long time and let her chin fall to rest on Nick’s arm. Thank God he still clasped her to his chest, or she would have crumpled into a useless pile of limbs.

It seemed ages before his breath returned to normal. “Cyn, are you all right?”