Page 33 of A Baron's Scandalous Quill
At once, William stopped. She whimpered from the loss of his touch as he moved his hands to the wall on either side of her head and parted their lips. Yet she hadn’t released him. She still held onto him, panting and looking him in the eye.
They both listened as they stared at one another, but whichever member of staff had made that sound, they were certainly not coming this way. There were no further thuds, nor footsteps or whispered voices.
“We are alone,” he assured her, his voice deeper still.
“Then…don’t stop,” she pleaded.
He raised his eyebrows, clearly sensing what she was asking.
She couldn’t help it. A need had shot through her, a need to know more about what this heat could lead to, this excitement. It was a longing for William himself. It didn’t matter that she was considering breaking all the rules and crossing all the boundaries between them. That, if anything, she was opening herself up to being the baron’s mistress. All that mattered was not stopping now.
“Are you sure?” he said between his panting breaths.
“Yes,” she nodded restlessly.
He released her, and she staggered against the wall, in danger of falling over. He marched toward the door, and she feared he was leaving, quitting the room in fury that she had dared to cross such a boundary, but she was wrong. He reached for the door, closed it, and took a chair from the games table nearby, jamming it under the door handle to make sure it wouldn’t open again.
Chapter 12
“William?” Becca whispered to him across the room, holding out a hand toward him. She longed to have him back with her, not just staring at her in such a heated way.
He shot back across the room, his stare intent on her lips as he came closer. At the sight, she stood straight. To see William, a man so quiet, suddenly so sure of his movements, quite dominant, made her mouth dry.
She moved toward him, too, and they met in the middle of the room. This time, when she kissed him, her hands went exploring. They moved from his shoulders to his hair, tangling in those lengths, as his hands found her back, arching her backward a little so their bodies molded together. Again, they fumbled on their feet, each of them trying to find their balance as they tried to get as close as possible to one another.
Becca felt the back of a chair behind her, pushed up against it, she was forced to drop down into it. She laughed in surprise as she broke their kiss, and William bent over her. He rested one hand on the back of what she now realized was the rococo settee and bent toward her, kissing her another time.
A single kiss would never be enough, not for Becca. The more she kissed him, the more she needed more of him. Her hands reached up around his waist, and she drew her fingers slowly,tauntingly, toward his front and up the center of his chest. She hooked a finger around the first button of his waistcoat, hesitating there, experimentally, to see what he would do next.
“You’re tormenting me,” he whispered, practically against her lips.
“Torment?” she giggled. “I do no such thing.”
“Then you do not know what power you have over me,” he whispered, moving his lips to her neck. She tipped her head back, closing her eyes and indulging in the feeling that his words had started in her body. It wasn’t just excitement now, but a warmth that was impossible to keep a lid on, as if a fire raged in her gut.
She undid his buttons, hurrying now to get them undone as he kissed her neck, finding a sweet spot beneath her ear that drove her quite mad until she mewled against him. Once all the waistcoat buttons were undone, she pushed the material from his shoulders and reached for him again, this time tugging at the shirt.
He left off kissing her neck and went to help her. In one swift tug of his hand, he undid the cravat at his throat, tore it free from his body, then went for the shirt. Standing before her as he pulled it over his head, she reached up to assist him. The shirt was thrown over the back of the settee before she stilled, her lips parting as she stared at him.
From that first night with the tight-fitting suit at the assembly, she had seen at once that he kept himself fit, but being able to see him now without a thread on his torso revealed much more to her. William’s chest was carved in muscle, with a thin line of hair down the very center of his chest. Her hands went exploring all of their own accord.
She lifted her hand up the center of his chest and then down his stomach, watching as he tipped his head back, sighing in apparent pleasure at what she had done. When her hand hovered over the top of his trousers, finding a particular v shape in the slim tautness of muscles at his hips, he moved the pair of them suddenly.
“Your turn,” he whispered playfully.
“My turn?” she said with a laugh.
“I cannot be the only one making such an exhibition, surely?”
She giggled as he tipped her back on the settee, moving her so she was leaning back. She bit her lip to stop another giggle, watching him in awe as he started to tug at her dress. He didn’t stop when the frayed hem was very easy to see, nor did he hesitate when her stockings were exposed, and she knew there was a very obvious hole in the knee of one of her stockings. He didn’t seem to take note of her poor attire at all, and only looked ather.
His hands trailed up her now exposed legs, reaching for the tops of her stockings before he slowly pulled them down. His fingers teased the bare skin of her legs, and she gasped at the sensation, overawed by it.
“Trust me?” he whispered, moving her legs a little as he knelt on the floor between her legs.
Finding her mouth so dry with anticipation, she couldn’t form any words, so she just nodded instead. He smiled mischievously, then moved down. With her skirt gathered around her hips, her most intimate area was still covered. She raised her head up enough to watch what he was doing.
He kissed the tops of her thighs, exploring her with small, playful nips and heated laps of his tongue. The open-mouthed wet kisses drove her quite mad, until she had that sensation again of a rushing wetness between her legs. This time, it was accompanied by such a strong ache that she whimpered at the sensation. She needed something, something more to satisfy the longing.
