Kisses and Scandal (A Survivors Series Anthology ) - Shana Galen Page 0,13

moved higher. Phil bit her lip to keep from moaning. He caressed her with unhurried movements, taking his time and making her comfortable with his touch. So comfortable, in fact, that when his hand slid between her thighs, she parted them without objection. His hand still held her wrists above her head, and now he rested his elbow against the wall and murmured in her ear. “I can feel how hot ye are, lass. My skin is burning.”

His fingers traced the sensitive skin at the juncture of her thighs. So close and yet not quite where she wanted him. “Touch me,” she whispered, her voice insistent.

“I like a lass who knows what she wants, but I’ll take me time, thank you very much.”

The way he touched her was torture. She wanted more and yet she didn’t ever want him to stop. Finally, with inexorable slowness, he moved high enough to brush his knuckles against her sex. She jolted with pleasure, and he shushed her.

“Shh. Take it slow, lass.” His hand cupped her, and she made a quiet sound that was somewhere between a purr and a whimper. “Not only warm but wet,” he whispered. One of his fingers stroked her center, pausing at her channel but not entering her.

“Please,” she whispered.

“I wish I could take my time with ye,” he murmured. “Do all the things I dream about.”

Phil swallowed. Was it possible he thought of her as he went about his work all day as much as she thought of him?

His slick finger slid over her folds, parted them, until he brushed against that most sensitive spot. She let out a puff of breath as her entire body seemed to tense in anticipation.

“There ye are,” he murmured. “Plump and throbbing, no doubt.”

She could hardly even comprehend what he was saying as he circled her tight nub. She closed her eyes tighter, so that black spots seemed to dance against her eyelids. Her hips could not remain still, and she rolled them to match the strokes of his finger.

As he stroked her, gently then firmly then with a whisper-light touch, her breath grew faster and shallower. She was aware of moans that she stifled and being far too hot in her dress. Her head fell back against the wall and she twisted side to side as he continued to pleasure her. The sensation of his touch was almost more than she could take, and yet she never wanted it to end.

And then everything was tightening and coalescing into the one spot where he stroked her. Her world shrunk, and there was only her and James. The stars grew brighter, her body tensed, and pleasure so exquisite she could not stop the cry from her lips exploded inside her. James caught her lips with his, kissing her and muffling her moans of ecstasy. He released her hands and pulled her close as she climaxed, his mouth taking hers even as the orgasm took her body.

And when her knees buckled and she began to slump, he caught her and held her up. Finally, he pulled away, lowered her skirts, and she opened her eyes.

“And now ye’ve given me something to remember, lass.” She blinked at him, and he nodded, his gaze fixed on her. “I won’t soon forget the look on yer face.”

“James,” she whispered.

“Shh. It’s long past time ye went up to yer chamber. Can ye make it?”

She nodded. He ran his hand over her cheek one last time.

“I’ll be waiting for ye when ye return.” He released her and nodded, and she made her way on shaky legs out the door and up the stairs. It wasn’t until she sank into the chair at her dressing table that her heart stopped thundering. She glanced at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were too bright, her cheeks too pink, her lips swollen. She had better splash water on her face before Dawson came to help her dress for bed. Not that she would sleep tonight. James had tried to give her an experience to remember him by, but all he’d done was leave her wanting more.

Four

The Blue Boar was situated in the little town of Beckminster, just about a mile from Southmeade Cottage. The tavern was across the street from the Queen’s Arms, which he knew from his time in the village was the preferred establishment of the gentry and where the duchess and Lady Philomena stopped for tea if they’d been in town shopping. The Blue Boar was dark and old,