The Rake and the Recluse REDUX (a time travel romance) (77 page)

Her back straightened a bit. “I am afraid.”

He sank onto his heels again. He reached out and stroked her bare leg. Taking her foot carefully in his hands, holding her steady when it jerked, he unhooked her boot and let it fall, then massaged her foot through her heavy woolen stockings. She sighed and he moved to her other leg, paying it the same attention. His mind played over the scene she had depicted, of that atrocious beast dragging her into the forest and forcing her body to his wicked intent. He closed his eyes. He wanted Hepplewort dead. He was amazed Gideon had left him breathing.

He looked up at her. “Lilly,” he said, releasing her foot and standing before her. “We do not—”

She hushed him, her gaze trapped on his loins. She twisted her hands in her skirts as she looked to his eyes suddenly. “He was the first. I had never—” She gestured toward him. “Even my brothers, I’d never— I, I had never seen even—” She swallowed, her throat tensing as he watched her.

He understood. She was an innocent—in her mind, anyway. What Hepplewort had done to her in that forest didn’t change the hopes and dreams she’d had growing up. Hepplewort had violently derailed them but no longer. Now Perry was purposed with setting her back on track. He loosened his trousers and pushed them off, then stood before her in his under drawers. He heard her sharp intake of breath.

He lifted her hands and placed them on his waist, ever waiting her decision. Her face flushed hotly, then she shut her eyes, tucking her chin into her shoulder. Her fingers found the buttons that held the drawers in place and, with a deep breath, she tightened her closed eyes and pulled at them bit by bit. When the waist was loose, she held the edges of the opening to keep the drawers in place while she attempted to control her breathing.

She swallowed, her fists clenched over the waistband, her knuckles white with strain as she struggled. He stroked one hand with his finger. “The reality is not as fearsome as the memory which is fueled by your imagination,” he murmured.

She nodded briskly and her hands relaxed, letting the drawers slide low on his hips. She felt for his waist, her eyes still closed. Her fingertips dipped into his bellybutton and he vibrated with a silent chuckle. She followed the smooth, soft trail of hair and tucked the tips of her fingers in his waistband, pulling forward so the front of his drawers opened to her. She let go, though her hands hovered there, not wanting to continue but refusing to retreat.

The sight of her closed eyes and her small hands hovering just above his freed erection was enough to stand his nerves on end. His mouth went dry and he moved slightly, pushing the head into her palm, as her other hand found his belly again, as though to stay him.

She drew in a breath. “Soft,” she whispered. Her hand closed slowly around the tip, her thumb smoothing across the skin as she opened her eyes. They grew wide, then wider still.

He clenched his jaw, willing his body to submit.

He felt her retreat and groaned a complaint. “Lilly, you cannot possibly understand how difficult this is for me as well. I am not familiar with allowing this sort of perusal. I wasn’t aware how much of a trial it would be to tolerate your simple touch.”

She drew her hands away. “I beg pardon, milord, I—”

“No, you misunderstand. This is not an unbearable discomfiture, it is merely different from my customary role in the bedchamber.” Her sweet mouth was so close to his cock that he had to look away to staunch his desire to plunder. “You cannot understand what I feel just yet, as you are still too much an innocent.” He paused, then added, “But you will.”

He pulled her up from the seat and drew her close. His head lowered and their breath mingled as he studied her through his lashes, making sure she was with
him
, and not back in that forest. His hands moved down her arms, tracing along the backs, all the way to her hands—energy coursing between them. He took her hands and drew them around his waist, leaving them to rest on his backside before continuing his gentle perusal of her mouth and body.

She held her mouth open and he knew she was unsure what to do, so he danced around her lips with his tongue, exploring, teaching, and searching her. He showed her how different touches felt, how his tongue on hers could send a chill down her spine. How his lips against hers made them swell eagerly.

She spread her fingers over the hard muscle of his buttocks, the tension swaying and ebbing as he moved with her. His hands roamed lower and he traced the line of her backside, his thumbs finding the twin dimples at the base of her spine through the fabric of her shirt. He caressed, pulled her closer still, all the while keeping her attention on his mouth, her lips, his hips, her hands, vigilantly watching, making sure.

He moved carefully, one hand holding her round bottom in place, the other cautiously circling around her hip, caressing through her skirts. Then his fingers went to work. He loosened every catch, every tie, all the binds that wrapped her, and let it all fall away before she even knew what he had done.

“You would be a very efficient lady’s maid.”

His eyes found hers, the smile in them bright. “Would you believe that position has been offered to me once before?” She blushed and he caught her chin. “I refused then, but I’ll not refuse you. From here on out, I’ll never refuse you a thing.” His other hand had shifted to the buttons of her shirtwaist, making quick work of them before it met the same fate as her other clothes. Then he shifted, his drawers sliding off to the floor.

She shivered against him, he naked as the day, she in her chemise and woolen stockings.

He took her waist, his thumb pressing slowly as his fingers rested on her hip, imploring her permission. She was perfectly made. He could feel her points between her curves, each one just where it should be.

He reached between them, and he saw her eyelids flutter. He retreated, caressing circles into her flesh under the fabric as his other hand strayed up her back and into the short locks at her nape. He massaged the back of her head as he held her face, turning her to kiss her cheeks, her jawline, over her forehead, down her neck and beneath her ear. He grazed her ribs, then caressed a pebbled nipple through her chemise.

She gasped and he took advantage, quelling her startle with the soothing sweep of his tongue at her lips. He stroked and calmed her with gentle movements, hypnotizing her with patience, diligence. His hardness stroked her thigh and she shied away, but he pulled her closer, neck to knee, securing her in his embrace. He felt her lean into him, her stiff form melting, melding, sinking, and then he was there.

His hand slid carefully to the vee of her thighs, resting in the curls under her chemise before she could retreat. She sighed, but he held her in place, watching, ever watching. His hand fell lower, and he couldn’t help but smile triumphantly against her neck when he found her hot, wet…for him. He shifted to her side and lifted her. Kicking his feet free of his drawers, he moved her to the bed.

He arranged her carefully on the pile of pillows, then turned to his portmanteau for a lambskin cap, letting her watch as he moved purposefully around the room before slowly crawling across the bed toward her. He held her gaze, still watching her eyes, which were drunk with him. He could see it; she was his to do with as he wished. Her countenance bespoke acceptance, agreement, restrained consent.

He smiled to himself as he untied the neck of her chemise and took her hands, placing them on his body to give them something to do besides interfere with his progress. She traced his shoulder, then his chest, smiling when his nipple tightened under her thumb.

She pushed against him as if to test her power and he stopped—capturing her gaze. He waited patiently for her fingers to soften and her eyes to close, then he moved over her, pulling the chemise down. She was perfect and he was suddenly aware that nobody had ever trespassed here. His gaze floated down her ripe breasts with the palest peach nipples. Her belly was taut and untouched by harm and he couldn’t resist running his hand across it, raising goose bumps in his wake. Then he looked at the soft silken hair that lay below, guiding him toward her treasure, and his eyes caught on a horror.

He jerked his head away to hide his shocked expression, but she’d noticed his hesitation and rolled to her side beneath him, pulling the chemise safely around her deeply scarred thighs, a sob surprising both of them as her eyes tightened.

He reached out, running his hand the length of her arm, drawing her eyes to his, silently expressing his sincerest apologies. He turned her to her back again and lowered himself over her, sealing her secrets between their bodies as he leaned down and kissed her thoroughly, slowly stoking the fire that had grown suddenly cold. She wrapped her arms around him, and they settled in to explore each other with lips and tongue. Then he leaned back and watched her, waiting until she decided.

Lilly felt the conflict in him, in the shift of his muscle, and she looked up to examine his face, the strong lines and tense expression. She watched as his muscles twitched then relaxed, his pupils dilating incrementally. The sunlight played across him, brightening his eyes and outlining the green of his irises. She could almost see herself reflected in the deep centers. She moved closer, bringing her mouth up to his, gently kissing him.

Part of her wanted to stop. Perhaps to wait, try some other time. But she had already come so far. She thought if she quit now, she would never gather the courage to make it to this point again, and he...he would never agree.

He was patient, letting her explore and taste him. Her tiny soft kisses traveled his mouth, then up to his eyes, brushing lightly over his wet eyelashes. He returned the favor by fluttering light kisses over every scar on her face, treating each one with reverence and care.