Once an Innocent (25 page)

Her breathing changed to short pants. “You can, you can. Just, please.”

With his teeth, he pulled the sad, soggy ruin of her fichu from her neckline. Jordan tugged at the sprig muslin of her bodice until first one, and then the other, breast spilled free. Hot palms met chilled flesh. His fingers worked mercilessly, pulling and kneading her nipples to stiff peaks. And then his mouth replaced a hand, and every suck caused an answering tug low in her belly.

She couldn’t take any more of this passive torture. Using her knees for leverage, Naomi hurtled against Jordan’s chest, taking him off guard and knocking him to the soft floor of their little sanctuary. His hands clamped around her waist as she sprawled atop him, steadying her.

Naomi thrashed wildly until she got one hand free of a sleeve. With a desperation unlike anything she’d ever felt before, she yanked the pelisse off her other arm. She was mindless, almost feral. All she knew was need. Her body needed Jordan like it needed air. She would die if she couldn’t touch him.

Straddling his waist, she pried open the buttons of his coat and waistcoat and clawed his shirt free of his breeches. Her hands slipped under the hem to the flat plain of his stomach. She felt a fine tremor in his muscles as she moved to his sides, her nails dragging. She fell forward to kiss him, her open mouth gorging on his. Her bare nipples grated across the lawn of his shirt, tormenting that already-sensitized flesh. “What do we do?” she asked breathlessly. “I don’t know what to do. Help me, please.”

Jordan’s eyes squeezed shut and he groaned in defeat. When they opened again, the irises were nearly obliterated by dilated pupils. “Dammit, woman,” he growled. He snatched her wet skirts and worked them up her legs. Those large hands clamped around the backs of her thighs and pulled her down. Her intimate flesh came into hard contact with the erection straining inside his breeches.

She cried out at the jolt of pleasure. Under her ruined dress, his arm clamped around her waist, while the other propped him up. He took her breast in his mouth. Naomi cradled his head close. Her hips rocked over his.

“God, you’re so hot,” he ground out. “I can feel your heat through my clothes.” His hand shifted to splay over her bottom and squeezed.

Outside, the rain continued. The ongoing droning sound of falling water cut them off from the rest of the world. There was only she and her man in their primitive shelter.

Something was building deep inside Naomi. She didn’t know just what it was, but it had to do with the parts of Jordan still covered. “Still. Not. Right.” She scrabbled at the fall of his breeches.

Just then, his fingers eased her folds apart. A keening mewl escaped her lips at the same instant he let out a hum of approval. “So wet for me.” His voice was guttural, savage. “I want you so much.”

She thrilled at his words. She had done this. She’d taken this beautiful, urbane man and reduced him to a lust-crazed beast. The last button gave way and he sprang free.

His penis looked so long and thick. She knew it was supposed to go inside her, but how? She took it in her fist to better judge its size. The lines of his veins were smooth ridges beneath the velvet skin. She pulled toward the tip, fascinated by the hard member. He thrust into her hand. “Christ, Naomi. What are you doing?”

The smell of musk undercut the sharp tang of pine resin. It was their smell, she knew — the perfume their bodies were creating together.

Her thumb swept over the tip of his penis. The bead of moisture she found there was slick, like the wetness between her legs. “Trying to see how it works. Am I doing it wrong?”

His eyelids drooped. “No, pet, exactly right.”

His hips bucked again. She braced a hand on the hard muscles of his chest, and rearranged, replacing her hand with her swollen flesh.

She mimicked his motions and rocked her hips, nestling her nether lips around his hard length. Soon, his shaft was wet with her slickness, and she slipped back and forth along his ridge. The pleasure was astonishing. She tilted a little, bringing her tight bud into contact with him. She cried wordlessly while the thing building inside her continued its relentless demands. It still wasn’t quite right. Her wet flesh clenched and released, as if grabbing for him. That’s what she needed. Him. Inside her. Now. She rocked faster. Harder. Her breasts jounced in time with her movement.

“Oh, God.” Jordan grabbed her hips. His fingers dug into her flesh, forcing more from her. “Not inside, Naomi. Finish like this. Christ. No, Naomi, not — ”

She impaled herself on his staff. Something pinched deep inside just as she was consumed by the most exquisite pleasure-pain. “Jordan!” she called. Wave after orgasmic wave rolled through her.
Yes.
This was how it worked.

Jordan thrust hard, setting off another spasm. Her thighs clamped around his middle while she rode the peaks bombarding her senses. “God, you feel so good,” he growled through clenched teeth. He drove into her over and over, wrenching pleasure from her body until she was mindless with it.

“Off off off,” he said.

Before she had time to decipher his strangled order, he quickly pulled out. He held her tight and let out a guttural yell. Wet heat spread between them while his shaft pulsed and twitched against her abdomen. The hot stream seemed to go on and on. She clung to his shoulders, stunned by his body’s reaction to hers. Something fiercely protective unfurled in her bones. Even as his climax faded, she wanted to cradle him with her body, keep him close to her.

For a few minutes, she could do nothing more than lay on top of him, gasping for breath, waiting for her heart to slow its frantic pace. She nestled under his chin and drank in his heady scent. His skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Reveling in their intimate contact, she kissed his neck and savored the salty tang.

Jordan flung an arm across his eyes. His other hand combed through her hair, which had come loose at some point in the proceedings. She felt utterly relaxed and sated.

“Naomi?”

She raised her head. “Hmm?”

“I have to say something.” He licked his lips and exhaled a heavy sigh. “But you’re going to hate me for it.”

• • •

A tiny frown puckered her brow. “Hate you? What a peculiar notion.”

She wouldn’t think so when she heard what he had to say.

Jordan was uncomfortable. The most powerful orgasm of his life had left him a mite woozy. A stick dug into his shoulder blade. The top of his head was jammed against the rough, interior wall of the hollow. And there was a soft bundle of femininity on top of him, all loose limbs and silky hair, perfectly content to use him for a cot.

Worst of all was the feeling of his spilled seed pressed between their bodies. It wasn’t a physical discomfort, but it seemed ominously portentous. The drying puddle glued them together. He was stuck.

There was nothing for it, so he manfully plowed ahead. “Will you marry me, Naomi?”

Naomi’s kiss-swollen lips fell open in surprise. Her deliciously pert breasts were still exposed, and her damp notch rubbed against his cock. It twitched, roused again to half-mast; she inhaled sharply and shifted her hips from side to side.

She was so responsive, artlessly so. Jordan grabbed her thighs, meaning to put a stop to her arousing maneuvers. His fingers dug into her creamy flesh. His ballocks tightened while he continued to harden. He’d have thought himself already wrung of every drop, but he wanted her again. So much. This was madness. “Naomi.” Was it a warning? A benediction? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that their fate was sealed. She must be made to see reason.

Naomi’s eyelids fluttered. “Is this when I’m meant to begin hating you?” His hands slid up her thighs, fingers spreading to cover her firm buttocks. She pressed against his hands, filling them with silky skin. She bit her lower lip while her mouth spread in a sleepy, seductive smile. “Because you proposed?”

Who knew the Snow Angel had such raw carnality simmering behind her decorous façade? Having known her since she was a girl, he was acquainted with her kindness, her selflessness, her loyalty. But this passionate side of her was a surprise. Even her eager response to his kisses hadn’t prepared him for the soul-jarring experience of coupling with her.

He quickly flipped, pinning her beneath him.

Her hair, the color of a gentle sunrise, spread over the dark earth. Her legs wrapped around his hips, drawing him closer even as he tried to pull away, locking them in a sensual stalemate.

“I know this isn’t what you want.” Jordan’s throat was tight with regret and leashed desire.

“It isn’t?”

Naomi reached between them. Her hand brushed against his cock as it passed. Lust surged through his groin, and he muffled a groan. Muscles worked as her fingers reached her folds. She winced and sucked air between her teeth.

“A little sore,” she murmured, “but I’m wet here again.” Her hazel eyes loomed huge in his vision, drawing him in. “Doesn’t that mean I want it? I read in a book — ”

Oh, sweet Christ.
Her innocent eroticism was going to be the death of him. He wanted to plunge into her, make her scream his name again and again. Instead, he wrenched away and rolled up to his knees.

“I mean marriage, Naomi. You don’t want it and neither do I.” His words were harsher than he intended. Restraining his sexual need was all he could handle right now; he couldn’t manage guarding his tongue, as well. She looked stunned. “Don’t worry,” he said, softening a little. “I don’t think you strange for it. In fact,” he said with a lopsided smile, “it’s one of the things I like about you.”

Naomi struggled to sit. She hauled her bodice over her breasts and gazed at him thoughtfully as she reached into her dress to manipulate them back into place.

He forced his eyes elsewhere and drew a deep breath. Outside, the rain slowed to a drizzle.

“Please make sure I understand you, Jordan,” she said.

When he looked, she was tucking her fichu back into the neckline of her dress.

“You don’t want to marry.”

“No,” he confirmed.

She tilted her chin. “And …
I
don’t want to marry? How do you know this?”

He raked a hand through his hair and dislodged some forest debris. “It’s obvious to me, Naomi, though you play your role in society flawlessly. I’m sure no one else suspects. But you haven’t entertained any suits for two years.” Her befuddled expression made him chuckle. Gently, he extracted a leaf from her hair. “You haven’t married or struck a betrothal. For a woman like you to remain unattached … It must be your choice to stay unwed.”

“I’m not sure whether to take that as a compliment or set-down.”

“Definitely a compliment,” he assured her. “If it weren’t for the fact that I don’t dally with virgins — ”

“You just did.”

“ — we wouldn’t have to do this. Alas.” He gave her his self-depreciating smile, the one that never failed to win a lady’s admiration.

“Oh,” she said with dawning comprehension. “That’s why you found my ballad so amusing. Because of our shared views on the topic of matrimony. I understand now.”

“I knew then we were kindred spirits.” He shook his head ruefully. “I didn’t expect it to turn out like this.”

She scowled. “Jordan, if you don’t want to marry me, then I don’t think we should.” She glanced outside. “The rain is letting up. Let’s go back to the house.”

Jordan grabbed her arm. “Just a minute, now.”

Naomi’s hair hung in a curtain of damp tendrils and pine needles. She looked wild. A dangerous glint flashed in her eyes. “There’s nothing further to discuss, my lord. As neither of us
wishes to marry
,” she said, her voice becoming thick, “we shall not. I won’t be ruined by rain.”

What on earth was wrong with the woman? Surely, she knew the score. “Your virgin’s blood is all over me!” He gestured to his groin, where a slick of red colored his cock and matted his hair. If he were any sort of gentleman, this blood would have spilled on the sheets of her marriage bed, not the fall of his breeches. Hastily, he fastened up his clothes, hiding the evidence. “We must marry. When Marshall finds out — ”

“Why should he find out?” she snapped. “Are you about to go running to him with this tale? I’m not.” Her chin trembled. Naomi turned her face away and sniffed.

Jordan’s heart lurched. He hated knowing his inability to keep his hands off her had forced her into a life she didn’t want. “Listen,” he said, “marriage might not have been in either of our plans, but it won’t be so bad.” When her face crumpled into a mask of sorrow, Jordan took her into his arms. “We get along so well,” he said as he rocked her from side to side. “You’re already a remarkable mistress for Lintern Abbey. You know more about the goings on in the village than I ever have. What you did for the pantry … ”

She lifted her pretty, tear-stained face to meet his. “These are good people, Jordan. I c-can’t believe how badly you neglect them.”

The barb struck home. “I do. It’s true. I don’t deserve them, Naomi, but they deserve you.” A flicker of doubt crossed her face. “They need you,” he pressed. And then he whispered, “I need you.”

Her eyes softened in a melting pool of tenderness. “Do you mean that? Please, do not play with me now.”

Raising her hand to his lips, he kissed her fingers gently. “I do mean it.” He hadn’t realized it until just this moment, but the truth was clear.

Since she’d come to Lintern Abbey, Jordan had depended upon her in any number of ways. With the strain of their mission testing the limits of Jordan and his men, Naomi had become the calm center of his home. She saw to the ladies’ entertainment. She’d taken Kate under her wing and become a friend to Clara. Her presence was something he now took for granted. He looked for her whenever he walked into a room. The thought of losing her as a fixture in his life sent an unexpected pain through his chest.

“You make me better than I am,” he said. “If I’m to marry anyone, Naomi, it must only be you.”

Naomi’s chin trembled. “Oh, Jordan.”

He was already on his knees. So was she, but the tight confines of the hollow didn’t permit otherwise. “You are my friend, Naomi, and now you’re my lover. Please do me the very great honor of becoming my wife.”