Page 65 of My Best Friend's Earl
The way his chest heaved with each labored inhale was its own answer. That breathing stopped altogether when she stepped out of her gown, then unfastened her short stays.
“Oliver, if I take off my chemise and you faint from lack of air, I will tease you about itforever.Do I make myself clear?”
His gasp for air sounded especially loud and they both laughed. With quick, clumsy movements, he braced himself on the door and attempted to remove his boots, muttering curses when the impressive tent of his erection got in his way as he bent.
Knowing Oliver wanted her as desperately as she wanted him gave her a euphoric feeling. When he finally approached her, wearing a look hot enough to set fire to her last piece of clothing, Constance was amazed her chemise didn’t turn to a pile of ash.
Vague memories of shyly disrobing in front of Walter felt like recollections from another woman. In the face of Oliver’s blatant admiration, Connie knew she could dance naked before him and never doubt his appreciation for what he saw.
And wasn’t that a lovely thing. The realization felt both deliciously scandalous and absolutely safe at the same time.
“May I?” he asked, fingering the ribbon securing the neckline of her undergarment.
“You may do whatever you wish, milord.” At his disgruntled expression, she dimpled up at him. “I mean, Oliver. You may do whatever you wish, Oliver.”
“I wish… to finally see you naked.” He pulled the bow loose, shifting the fabric until the chemise gaped over her shoulders. “I’ve dreamed of you for weeks now, only to wake hard and aching. That’s when I knew I wanted you. You’ve haunted my bedchamber every morning. I’m scared I’ll wake up and discover this is all an exceptionally vivid dream.”
Constance pressed her thighs together, trying to alleviate the building ache at her center. When he finally touched her there, he’d find a slick and warm welcome. “Not a dream. I’m curious about the accuracy of your imagination, though.” A shrug of her shoulders, and the thin chemise drifted to the ground.
“Jesus holy fuck,” he breathed.
She couldn’t help it. Constance laughed, even though it sent all her wobbly bits jiggling with abandon. Still giggling, she looped her hands behind his neck and relished the hot press of his torso against hers. “Do you know when I realized I was attracted to you?”
Oliver’s eyes were a bit unfocused as his hands explored her back, then down her bum, not missing an inch. The noise he made was vague, but agreeable, so Connie continued.
“When you swore at your kitten that first day in yourstudy. You were unwashed and exhausted, and your language was atrocious. That’s when I knew I wanted you.”
At that he gave her a disbelieving grin. “You’re a strange woman, Constance Martin.”
Yes, but I’m yours, for as long as I can keep you.“Then you’ve a predilection for strange women.”
“I’ve a predilection for you. Specifically, your breasts.”
She grinned, then gasped when he weighed them in his hands, squeezing her nipples between his fingers. Goodness, he gazed at her as if she were a dessert fit for the king’s table.
“When we kissed that first time, I wanted to tear that seam on your gown the rest of the way and finally see these beauties. I didn’t, because I knew if I did, that would be it for me. I’d have fucked you against those shelves and never come up for air. The hostess would have found us the next day with my cock inside you and my face buried in your cleavage.”
A snort escaped and Constance slapped a palm over her mouth. “What a picture you paint.”
“And now you know how I anticipate greeting the morning.” He kissed her dimple, then the side of her neck.
More intimate than a waltz, they danced backward one step at a time toward the bedroom, murmuring and laughing softly.
The quilt was cool on her skin when he laid her down on the bed, then crawled over her, and rested on his elbows. Face abruptly serious after their playful banter, Oliver said, “I’m glad it’s you.”
Constance bit back declarations and promises of forever. Instead, she cradled his cheek and said, “There’s no place I’d rather be.” Tingles skittered up her arm when he kissed her palm and held her gaze. “Now please, for the love of all that’s holy, take off your breeches. Otherwise, I won’t be responsible for the condition of your clothing.”
He laughed deep and low, and she felt it like a brush between her legs.
When a fully naked Oliver rejoined her on the bed, Constance reached for him with greedy arms.
“Swear to everything, if I wake up in the next few seconds, I’m going to tear my bed apart with my bare hands.”
Constance pushed him onto his back, then nipped and licked down his neck, to his chest, and lower, where a line of dark hair pointed directly toward his stiff cock.
After a single lick from base to tip, he bellowed. When she continued, his raspy growl repeated, “Fuck, Connie. Oh God. Fuck.”
Everything disappeared from her mind except Oliver. The taste of him. The delighted look he gave her when she slipped his wet length through her cleavage and held her breasts tightly around him, creating a channel with her flicking tongue at the end. He shouted her name when he finished quickly, as predicted.
