Page 16 of The Lady
Across from her, shirtless and clothed in just his trousers, stood Philip. Flora would have liked to run after Mr. Pauls, declaring her single status and a need for her own bedroom. But she could not tear her eyes away from the sight of Philip’s muscular chest, or the pleasing wet tendrils of blond hair that glistened over the biceps. He resembled some divine carving in a museum or some Greek temple.
The only gratifying thing was to realise how uncomfortable Philip looked in this scenario. “My brother booked the accommodation. He did not realise I would be travelling with you. I had asked for some other room to be made up, but shy of sleeping down with the grooms, it is a small inn…” His voice trailed off.
Edging farther in the chamber, Flora gave him a quick nod of understanding. Of course this was Langley’s doing. She did not know whether to be grateful or annoyed.
“I will, of course, be making my way down to the parlour, once I have collected a blanket or two.”
“No.” She had walked nearer to him, swayed by the sight of his body, and the tension that now seemed to coil between them. In the coach it had been easy to nibble on the picnic and to be sympathetic. To feign a semblance of normality. Now it seemed all she wanted to do was resume their activities in the chair this very morning.
Reaching out a hand, Flora only meant to halt his progress towards the door, but he shifted, and her fingers grazed against his chest muscles. And she could not pull away. Her fingers traced a line against the smooth plane of his stomach, drifting lower against the loosened folds of his trousers. “Stay.”
“You do not know what you ask of me.” His face was tender. “We have nothing agreed between us. It is all too complicated and?—”
“I am not some naïve fool. I wish…” Her voice wobbled, and she stepped nearer, her arms curving up and around his neck. “I wish to go to bed with you.”
It was enough, the whispered promise caused Philip to snatch her up to him, pulling her against his damp chest, the contact everything she had hoped for. His hands were wild and insistent as he pulled at her own clothes, loosening the pelisse she had donned, tugging it away from her body. They fell back onto the bed, their limbs tangling as they fought to continue kissing. His tongue dipped frantically into her mouth, tasting capturing her own. He had drunk some of the ale, and the alcohol was rich and intoxicating. Again, his hands scrambled between her own, pulling her garments free of her body, whilst his kisses continued down her throat, across her collarbone, and into the valley between her breasts. All the while, Philip’s strong body pressed her deeper into the softness of the bed. What heaven.
As his hands pressed and explored her décolletage, his teeth made quick work of the chemise beneath it. A strangely loud rip sounded, and Flora’s eyes opened, locking with Philip’s.
She smiled up at him. Eager to feel more. To know more too.
“Are you certain?” His body was still lingering over hers, his arms framed either side of her head. How she wished could hold on to this moment of intimacy, lock it away as a keepsake forever, regardless of what might come next. For a moment, she wondered if she dared tell him the truth, that she was in love with him. Would she trust him enough to reveal that much of herself? Dare she tell him all? Did she trust him enough despite the past, and the lack of clarity now, to say her truth?
“Yes, I am sure.” The words of confession of love did not come to her lips, but the ones of desire did, urging him on. She lifted her hips to meet his own, to press and angle herself against him, so she could feel the rise of his desire against her stomach. All her doubts, all her fears, every other thing that plagued her throughout the day, crumbled away as she moved closer and kissed Philip.
CHAPTER 8
Awhirlwindseemed to be the only right way of describing what Philip was feeling. Every kiss and every touch convinced him that this was precisely what Flora and he should be doing. Yet there was such turmoil all around him—everything he had planned out, in an attempt to make his life neat and ordered, nagged and twisted at the back of his mind was gone… until she kissed him again. Her tongue curiously explored his mouth, all velvety temptation and he knew nothing that felt this wondrous could ever be entirely bad.
Most of Flora’s clothes had already been pulled off her and discarded, and in the light from the handful of candles by the bedside, he caught glimpses of her beautiful body. Lithe and elegant, her slim frame was as graceful as he’d always imagined. He was strangely pleased to note the beauty mark by her left breast and the curve to her stomach—pieces of her body that cemented her as something real and not merely an imagined being. Seeing her blush, he pulled the many blankets up and over them, as if they would huddle under these protective layers and hide themselves away from the real world forever.
Slowly, he kissed his way from her inflamed cheeks, down past the hollow in the base of her throat, tasting salt and warmth and the faint enduring scent of jasmine about her.
“Tell me what pleases you.” His voice was deeper, huskier than he could remember it being in quite some time. His trail of kisses led him to her breasts, administering to each in turn with as much attention and care as if he never meant to leave them. It was gratifying to hear the little mews and witness the wriggly innocently sensuous movements of Flora’s hips as he led her down an erotic pathway, learning all the while, what caused her delight.
Slowly he dipped lower, tasting, licking, and kissing his way down to the proud weave of curls at her sex. His finger dipped in first, parting her wet flesh, feeling the lush dampness coat his skin of his knuckles and fingers. The smell of her was just as intoxicating as the rest of Flora, all-absorbing, luring him closer, tempting him to have a taste, to linger, and to try.
As his lips parted her sensual, pink-tipped ones, he felt triumphant to hear the low mewing noise increase. Flora’s hands flexed and tightened in his hair, pulling and holding him close.
With tentative, seductive kisses he started to savour the rich taste of her core. Exploring her deeply, encouraging her to gasp and cling to him as his right hand moved to easily find its way into her narrow shaft, stroking in and out before lifting and playing with her hidden pearl. As his mouth nuzzled against that little jewel, Flora rewarded him by shuddering. Her body shifted, tensed, and she shouted out a half moan, half command of encouragement. It was the sweetest sound Philip could ever remember hearing. Breathy, earnest, and eager—how they had sought to ignore the pull between them, but it existed, nonetheless.
He had divested himself of his trousers during the last few minutes, and when he crawled back up, their gazes level,he stared into her grey eyes and hoped she was as ready emotionally as she was physically.
“Flora?” There was a note of pleading, of need, of affection in his voice as he kissed his way over her pale skin. Tasting as much as he could of Flora.
“Between Elsie and Margot, not to mention some of my married friends, I know what to expect.” Her hand slipped between them, alighting on his member and guided him closer.
As he nudged inside her, Flora’s hands lifted and grasped tightly onto his shoulders, holding on to him. It was not just the sensation of entering her, inch by inch, that excited him, but the trust she put into her fingers as they gripped him and the unfocused look in her eyes of growing awareness as she watched him. She was a marvel, and he was blessed beyond belief to hold her so.
“Some women can experience pain, but not all, not if they are ready. Is that…” He could not find the right words to ask her or to check, but it did not seem he had to because she was already nodding.
“It is most perplexing but nice, good, better than—” There was a hitch to her voice that made him smile. When Philip laughed at her response, the movement caused the momentary smile to alter as sensation rippled through her.
“I am supposed to move,” he said against her lips, starting slowly to rock deep within her. The seductive movement sent shivers through his frame. The tension was deepening and gripping his body, in a way that threatened his control. Tested him as he secured his hands above her head and rocked into Flora, watching her dazzled reaction grow more animated as the feelings latched on to her.
With Flora’s hands still on his shoulders, she started to lift her hips in a mirror of his movements. The rhythm came and went as they learnt to shift upwards and pulse downwards at theright time. But it was the laughter that slipped from his mouth which seemed to heighten every joyous sensation, every kiss, and every touch.
How had he not snatched her up before and down a hundred times?
