Beneath his own hand now.
He could not help himself. He meant to pull away from her and hedid, he did pull away, only—
Slowly. He slid his fingers across the back of her hand, tracingthe lines between her fingers, catching on her knuckles, then up, his thumb stroking the inside of her wrist.
The gasp she made was loud in the quiet room. He let go of her hand and placed his own on the solid wood of the door, trying to ground himself. Trying to remember who he was, and who she was, and what they were here to do.
And then she turned to face him. Her back was up against the door, and his hand was braced beside her head, and her eyes—those damned midnight eyes—were fixed upon him.
He did not move. He did not have to. She lifted her hand and placed it on his cheek. Her fingers coasted over his cheekbone, then trailed down the line of his jaw. Her touch was no more than a breath across his skin, and it was madness how that delicate caress caught hold inside him and pulled his body taut with wanting.
He eased himself closer, her body a hair’s breadth from his.
“You shaved,” she whispered.
“Aye.”
“I had been wondering how it would feel under my fingers.”
Jesus Christ, it should not have been possible for the graze of her hand and the low murmur of her voice to make him so painfully hard. “The beard?” he rasped.
Her fingers went back to his cheek, dipping into the hollow beneath his cheekbone. “That,” she murmured. “And now, too.”
Her fingers found his mouth, and then stopped, as if uncertain. He caught her by the waist, and his lips parted on a sound—a harsh breath, a moan—at the heady sensation of her lush body under his hand.
His mouth had moved beneath her fingers, her hand slipping down. He wanted to grab her by the wrist and keep her there. He wanted to draw her fingers into his mouth and see if her eyes wentblack with pleasure. He wanted to put his fingers inhermouth, and he wanted her to suck hard.
But he didn’t do any of those things, because she moved her hand from his lips to the back of his head. She gripped his hair and pulled him down toward her, and then he was kissing her.
Oh hermouth—God, how he had dreamed of her mouth. She tasted of tea; she tasted of heaven. He could feel the shape of her lips under his and the whisper of her breath, and by God, it wasn’t enough.
A bit more, he told himself.Just a bit more.
He stroked up the curve of her ribs, his thumb grazing the underside of her breast, and she gasped against him, her lips parting.
His slide from reason to madness was slow. He licked her parted lips—Gentle, he said in his mind,easy—and she whimpered and tightened her grasp on his hair. Ohfuckit felt good, she felt so good, her body soft against his.
He pressed her back against the door, not too hard, and groaned a little at the feel of her. She made a sound too, a needy sound, and he wanted to please her. He wanted to give her what she needed.
He sucked at her lips, at her tongue—she liked that. He could tell by the way her breathing changed, erratic and wild, her full breasts pressing up into him. She made a tiny, almost whimpering sound, and then she came up on her toes, suddenly demanding.
He broke away, putting his mouth to her ear. “Whatever you need,” he murmured. “Whatever you want. Ah God, Lydia.”
He kissed her neck. He licked her collarbone and bit her there, and she made more of those little mewling sounds, her head falling back, her fingers tightening almost to pain in his hair.
“Christ,” he growled, “Christ, I want to touch you. Can I—”
“Yes,” she gasped. “Please.”
He found the line of her bodice with his fingers and then with his mouth. He stroked the delicate skin there, then slid his hand around to the fabric-covered weight of her breast and dragged his thumb across one tightened nipple.
She gave a cry, bright and loud, and pleasure spiraled through his body. God, she was so responsive, it made his head spin. He needed her out of this dress. He needed her breasts bare in his hands. He needed her above him, riding him, while he pinched and rolled those nipples. He needed to find out if he could make her come just like that.
And then the door handle rattled.
He froze. They both froze, for a long moment, before he lifted his head.
Oh Jesus, she was so lovely like this, flushed and vivid. He’d somehow managed to tug down her bodice enough that her spectacular breasts were near to spilling free, and the sight was enough to inspire a bloody year’s worth of erotic fantasies.
