Page 79 of The Lady Was Lying
“You still seem nervous,” she observed, using the lavender scented soap that had been provided to wash away the grime of travel.
“Of course,” he grumbled. “I just told you I don’t have much experience at ravishing.” He wasn’t completely inexperienced, but he’d never initiated anyone to pleasure.
“You know how to please yourself.” It didn’t sound like a question.
His cheeks heated to match hers, even though he wasn’t the one immersed in hot water. “Of course.”
“The way I see it, you’re an expert at finding your pleasure, and I’m an expert at finding my pleasure.” She paused, and her hands dipped under the water, swirling it around and further obscuring his view. “It seems as if we ought to be capable of teaching one another what we like.”
How unexpected. “Is it that simple?”
“I believe so.”
Belinda was unique.
Challenging, sometimes. Demanding, others. She always pushed him to consider what he needed from a partner. And what he could give. At the moment, she had done the impossible. She had given him confidence when he had none.
“It might not be perfect between us,” he told her. “Not right away.”
“Who needs perfect?” she asked, rising to her feet, water running rivulets down her flushed torso. “Hand me a towel.”
He complied, watching as she stepped out of the water and used the small towel to pat herself dry. She tossed the towel on the chair and moved across the room, sprawling out on the bed while making no move to cover her pert breasts or the dark curls nestled between her thighs. She was comfortable in her nudity in a way he wasn’t sure he would ever achieve. It was undeniably attractive.
“You’re staring,” she said when he made no move to join her on the bed.
“It’s impossible not to,” he murmured. “You’re so beautiful.”
He was studying her so closely that it was impossible for him to miss her reaction to his words. The slight stiffening of her limbs. The faint line between her brows. The subtle shifting of her legs.
Did she doubt that she was beautiful?
Or did she just not like when he mentioned it?
“Beauty doesn’t do me much good if you remain on the other side of the room. It can’t bring me pleasure on its own.”
It was jarring to realize he had frozen again. Where was the confidence she had bestowed upon him mere moments ago? “I should join you in bed.”
“Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
“I haven’t.” If he kept hesitating, she was going to doubt that he wanted her. He stumbled forward, his knees hitting the edge of the bed, and looked down at himself. “Maybe I should take off my jacket first.”
“Probably a good idea. At some point, you might want to consider removing more than your jacket. Ravishment requires significantly less clothes, but as you said, we have time…”
“I’m an idiot,” he muttered, still not moving.
“James. If you’ve changed your mind, we don’t have to do this tonight. I promise that I’m ready, but if you aren’t?—”
“I am.” Her words spurred him into action. “I’m ready. I haven’t changed my mind. Not at all.” He ripped the lapel of his jacket over his shoulder and yanked the sleeve off his arm. Once it was free, he was decidedly more graceful as he took the jacket the rest of the way off. He stripped his waistcoat and then tossed his cravat toward the table before tumbling onto the bed, landing next to her.
“Shirt too,” she said, tugging at the single layer that kept her fingers from touching his bare skin.
Flopping around inelegantly, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the floor. “Better?” he asked breathlessly.
She smirked. “Much. Now kiss me.”
They moved slowly, perfectly in sync, meeting halfway and pressing their lips together. Just like the last time, lust flooded his senses, obliterating every thought that wasn’t connected to the feel of her. She paused the kiss long enough to whisper, “Touch me.”
Instead of reaching out and running his hand over her lush body, he shifted so they were pressed together, their legs tangling, her soft breasts against his hard chest.
