Page 67 of Temptress in Disguise
She couldn’t quite muster the words to explain this bout of anxiety. There was no other way to say that she wanted him to care for her, to always be her husband.
He knew exactly what to say. “I’ve learnt to live in the moment. I never plan for the future. Life has shown how quickly one’s fate can change.”
“I understand.” When one lost everything, one learnt to adapt.
“Do you? Then tell me what you want now, in this moment, when there’s no one here but us.”
She sat quietly, at one with her feelings not her thoughts, searching for the courage to admit to the only thing she craved. “I want to feel close to you.”
“We are close. There’s nothing more intimate than two people engaging in an honest conversation.”
He was determined to wring a confession from her lips. “I want to feel physically close to you. I want you to hold me in your strong arms and tell me there’s nothing to fear.”
His gaze slid slowly over her body. “Perhaps you would like to make this a ride to remember.”
Her sex pulsed in response, anticipating the moment he entered her body and filled her full. She wanted days, months, years to remember. Beautiful dawns. Hot summers. Cosy winter nights. She wanted this man in every imaginable scenario.
“What doyouwant, Aramis?”
He ran his thumb over his bottom lip and grinned. “Would you like the truth or a tamer version?”
“Always the truth.”
A sensual hum vibrated in his throat. “I want your hands on my body. I want your tongue in my mouth. I want you hugging my cock as we bounce through every rut in the road.”
Heat flooded every part of her, the needy ache urging her to act. In Lydia’s shadow, she always felt inadequate. Aramis Chance made her feel like the most desirable woman alive.
She reached forward and let down the blind. “How fortunate that our thoughts should be aligned.”
His hungry eyes remained fixed on her. “Come here. Raise your skirts and sit astride me. You can ride me all the way to Uxbridge.”
It was an invitation she could not resist.
While he freed his engorged manhood, she gathered her skirts to her waist, then lost her balance and tumbled into his lap.
“I’m sorry.” She gripped his shoulders and braced her knees either side of his thighs. “This is much more difficult than I anticipated.”
“I need to anchor you down,” he teased, guiding her over his erection. “Once I’m inside you, every bump in the road will heighten our pleasure. Let’s play a game.”
“A game?”
“You must take an inch at a time, no more.”
Though she was a novice in the art of lovemaking, she suspected he would struggle to abide by the rules. “Very well.”
“Kiss me. Kiss me while I touch you.” He began stroking her sex with the head of his erection, the movements gentle, satisfying, but the sweetest kind of torture. “Kiss me softly, slowly. Build the momentum.”
She pushed her hands into his hair, holding him as their open mouths met. She tried not to hurry but her sex pulsed, and the need to feel full had her slipping her tongue into the warm, wet depths.
He did not reciprocate.
She tried to tempt him with the sensual moans he liked. But he was steadfast in his ambition to win the game.
“I’ll be inside you soon.” It was like he knew she needed to feel the wild plunge of his tongue, needed his manhood pumping hard to banish the emptiness. “You’re so wet for me.”
He was doing it on purpose—saying arousing things, tormenting her, drawing her to the edge of her climax and holding her there.
But this was a game of two players. She might be a novice but she wouldn’t make winning easy for him.
