protest. Why would she? Where else had she to go? No place better than in this man’s arms.
Tom spun them, kissing her still, and descended to the chaise longue, taking her with him. Hyacinth landed in his lap, and it was only then that their lips parted. Her breath was ragged, but she was gratified to see his was as well. They stared at each other, his warm, brown eyes burning into hers, seeing parts of her she knew she would do well to hide. Seeing all of her.
Wanting her anyway.
She had never sat in a man’s lap. But she did not fool herself that her reaction to finding herself in any man’s lap would be the same. Only this one. Beneath her gown, her small tournure was askew, meaning she could feel him through the layers of her skirts. Strong thighs radiated heat into her. Pressed into her left thigh, the unmistakable ridge of his hardness had her nipples tightening and her sex pulsing with newly discovered yearning.
This was need in its rawest and purest form, new and strange and once forbidden. His hands coasted up her spine, caressing. Worshiping. He touched her the way he kissed her, as if she were precious. Priceless. Worthy of the greatest care.
It was intoxicating.
He was intoxicating.
“Forgive me,” he said, his voice a thickened rasp that told her he was every bit as much affected by their interlude as she was. Evidenced by his rigid staff, of course, but his eyes had also deepened to a rich chocolate. There was a slight tremble to his words. More than desire, she thought, and welcomed the realization, for what she felt transcended mere lust as well.
She traced his lips with her forefinger, enraptured by his mouth. “What have you done that requires an apology?”
He pressed a kiss to the fleshy pad trailing around those sinfully sculpted lips. “I do think I may have overstepped my bounds.”
He was teasing her. Watching. Allowing her to make the next move, to control the speed of their progression, much like a coachman handing over the reins of the carriage. Gratitude poured over her.
“I wish you would overstep your bounds more,” the new Hyacinth whispered.
His hand found her nape, caressing her there. “How much more?”
Her lips parted, the warmth of her own breath sluicing over them heightening her awareness. She could give herself over to his languorous touches all day. He seduced with scarcely any effort. But she forced herself to pay attention to his words.
“Very much more,” she admitted on an acute burst of longing.
His other hand slipped beneath her hem, finding its way beneath her petticoats. Long, elegant fingers trailed up her calf, all the way to her knee. Through her silken stockings, his caress was a brand.
“I am amenable.” His touch glided higher. “Are you?”
“Oh yes.”
Though she had instinctively pressed her thighs together when she had settled in his lap, a wanton urge had her relaxing, allowing them to part and fall open. Allowing him to skim over her drawers all the way to the slit.
He took her mouth at the same moment he circled the bud of her sex. Just a slow, wicked swirl of his fingers over her aching flesh. Her hips jumped. She gasped into his mouth. She had never been touched with such sweet tenderness before.
How did he know what she wanted before she did? Lightly, he traced lower, finding her lips and parting her. The evidence of her desire was on his fingertips. She was almost ashamed of her own wetness.
Except, with Tom’s mouth feasting on hers, there was no room for embarrassment. There was only a wicked, surging need. He skimmed over her entrance, leaving her wanting more, before returning to her pearl, stroking her there once more.
She was on the edge, just from his fingers on her flesh. Her relations with her husband had never been fulfilling. They had been hasty and unwanted. An onerous duty on her behalf. Sometimes painful. Only when she had been alone had she found release. But she skated dangerously near to a crisis in this man’s lap. All from a handful of furtive caresses.
His tongue lapped at hers.
His finger moved faster, flying over her. The slick sounds of him toying with her mingled with ragged breathing and the frantic thumping of her heart. She clutched his face, her hands cupping his jaw. His skin was warm, the pinpricks of his short whiskers a delicacy she could not have anticipated.
The spicy scent of pine and