Page 40 of Taming Ivy
She gripped the reins even tighter, eyes flashing with determination she would not be plucked from the mare’s back. “You-you are running out of excuses to justify your despicable actions.” When his hands lowered, her sigh of relief was audible.
How amusing she underestimated the depths of his resolve to be alone with her.
With a quick flick of his wrist, the single stirrup of the sidesaddle was unfastened. Ivy’s heel slid free as the iron separated from the leather. Her mouth dropped open in horror.
“Go on ahead,” Sebastian called to the others, his eyes raised and locked with hers. He grabbed her ankle, preventing her from furiously kicking him in the chest. “This damnable stirrup has come completely apart. It will take more than a minute or two to repair it.”
Sara watched them in tight-lipped disbelief and for a moment, Sebastian believed she would gallop straightaway to attach herself to Ivy. But Alan quickly reached to take the lady’s mare by the bit, murmuring something before letting her go. With one last worried glance over her shoulder, Sara wheeled her horse around.
Sebastian flashed Alan a grin of thanks as the others reluctantly moved away from the spring. When the last of them disappeared through the meadow and into the thick of the woods, he turned to Ivy.
“Now that they’re gone…” Swinging her down in a flurry of skirts, he ignored her gasp of frustration, enjoying how she squirmed with the energy of an angry kitten. He did not release her even when her toes finally touched firm earth. Keeping her molded against him, one arm encircling her waist, his thighs pressed hard to hers.
While she was off-balance and struggling, he tipped her chin with the palm of his hand to claim her mouth with a voracious hunger. Ivy’s attempts to push him away continued unabated, and Sebastian allowed her to twist and writhe. When she finally stilled in defeat, he bit her lower lip, swollen pink from his kisses.
“Arms around my neck, Countess.”
Ivy scowled but did as directed.
Immediately the kiss melted to something soft and fluttering, rewarding her acquiescence to his stern command. Under the urging of his fingers, her riding jacket opened, the proper ascot coming unwrapped with alarming ease. The tiny pearl buttons of her lawn shirt slipped one by one from their moorings as though commanded by unseen forces. As the cool morning breeze drifted over them, he backed her into the concealing shadows of the grove until she was caught between the sturdiness of an elm tree and the warm hardness of his body. A low growl rumbled through him.
Time for the countess to surrender another piece of herself.
Sebastian’s hands skimmed past rows of petite ruffles lining her chemise, playing, testing, tugging at the silk ribbons holding it all together. The edge of the garment eased down, slowly, before Ivy even realized what was happening to stop him. His lips closed with unerring purpose over a rose petal nipple. God, never had he had tasted anything so sweet, so fine, as her soft flesh.
Ivy choked in surprise as his tongue swirled and licked her. Her gloved hands moved to his head, sliding through his hair. She may have thought about yanking him away. Her hands clenched in the soft waves with a sudden ferocity just as Sebastian, with a wickedness long ago perfected, raked his teeth over the hardening bud of her flesh.
It wasn’t fair. He knew that. She would forget to struggle, to protest. To breathe. As expected, Ivy drew him close. He held her nipple, caught fast between his teeth, and flicked his tongue back and forth over the contracted tip with a merciless intensity. With a moaning shudder, she pulled him even closer still.
It was heaven. Or, maybe it was hell. There was no guarantee such pleasure could continue forever. Ivy Kinley tasted of oranges and the freshness of spring. Damn, he couldn’t get enough and he feasted until her head tilted against the rough bark of the elm and she began arching into his mouth. Trailing his tongue over the valley between her breasts, Sebastian began anew with the other peak, savoring every nuance of her. When he pulled back, her eyes snapped shut with the sharpness of abandonment, and a sob of protest rang out in the little glade.
“Ivy.” Sebastian’s voice was hoarse. She was boneless in his arms, as if she was melting into him. If he must sell his soul to the Devil, he would do it, just to have her. “Look at me. Open your eyes andlookat me.”
She focused on him, her eyes heavy, now more green than blue, the thick eyelashes sweeping across the upper curves of her cheeks. The sprinkle of freckles across her nose beckoned him to kiss each golden one. “Sweet, sweet Ivy,” he breathed, catching her bottom lip between his teeth. “Christ, you are destroying me.”
Pulling off her riding gloves, Sebastian flung them to the side along with his own. He shrugged out of his coat and removed hers as well, tossing the garments carelessly to the ground. Taking her hands, he placed them on his midriff, silently telling her what he wanted her to do.
Ivy faltered, then slowly pulled his shirt free of the confines of his breeches, unfastening buttons until the hot flesh of his stomach was exposed. Drifting with purpose, her fingers smoothed the fabric aside. When she finally touched bare flesh, Sebastian’s groan vibrated through them both.
The dips and elevations of the muscles lining his abdomen seemed to fascinate her. She explored his ribs, the slabs of muscling constructing his back and bunching along the line of his broad shoulders. Her hands skimmed over his flat, dark nipples, a wordless murmur escaping her when they contracted to hardened points and stabbed at her palms. When she traced the swirl of dark hair below his navel with a fingertip, Sebastian’s teeth clenched so hard he thought they might crack. She was a witch. Driving him to the brink of utter madness.
He captured her wrist when she fumbled with the top button of the breeches. Filled with confusion and desire, her eyes lifted to his.
“Don’t,”Sebastian growled. “I won’t be able to stop if you continue…”
A light flared in Ivy’s eyes, a flash of understanding. “But you are so beautiful.” Her whisper was bemused wonder, her free hand gliding along the washboard of his stomach. “I want to touch you...”
A strangled laugh choked Sebastian. Making love in this unguarded, open environment was truly insanity. He needed privacy, the seclusion of a locked room to strip her bare and fill himself with her scent. Fill his mouth with the taste of her. Over and over until he was saturated in her.
With a reluctant sigh, he drew the chemise back into place. With her breasts covered, his thoughts became more rational. “Men aren’t beautiful.”
“You are.” Ivy did not question why he covered her nudity. “I’ve never known anyone like you. I want to know why I tremble when your fingers are on my skin, why I cannot stop thinking of you, day or night. I cannot stop thinking of the last time we were together. I want so desperately to be angry with you, but I have missed you too much. Everything about this feels both dangerous and incredible. Sebastian, help me. Help me understand.” Standing on tiptoe, her mouth pressed to his neck, where the pulse beat so strong in the hollow of his throat. Almost hesitantly, she bit him softly, and then kissed where her teeth marked him.
It undid him, that sweetly wicked bit of a kiss. It ruined him, those heated words of a temptress and the teeth of a tigress. Groaning in surrender, he hauled her against him. Why waste words on the unexplainable? He wouldshowher instead. Even if it was dangerous to do so.
He kissed her repeatedly until she was panting and frantic with need, clutching him, her body trembling. When he lowered her to the ground, cushioned by discarded riding coats and soft green grass, she went willingly. Her chemise was jerked down a second time, her breasts exposed to the cool air only to be consumed in the fiery heat of his mouth. Shoving the skirts of her riding habit high, his hands slid with unrelenting purpose between her thighs. For a sliver of a heartbeat, as on the night of the opera, she clenched against his touch.
Sebastian waited, as he did before, his breath still, his hands still, his heart still. He thought he might explode, waiting, wanting, hating himself. Hating her for his vulnerability to this dangerous obsession.
