Page 67 of A Most Unlikely Lady
‘No.’
‘Do you want to see me?’
‘Yes,’ she breathed.
Reaching behind him, he gripped the back of his shirt and, in a fluid movement, pulled the linen over his head, letting it drop next to the waistcoat on the back of the chair.
His body was an homage to the beauty of the male form. Thick arm muscles bunched and shifted as he rubbed one hand over his chest. Ivy followed his fingers. He brushed them over flat, dark nipples. His stomach was divided into six defined ridges of hardened flesh. Hipbones jutted out, and a V of ridged muscle on either side of his abdomen disappeared into low-slung breeches. A defined bulge grew even larger where the placket of his breeches strained against three small buttons. His large hand swept lower, blatantly rubbing the evidence of his arousal. He hissed out a breath.
She never imagined looking at a man’s naked torso would cause so many sensations to spark to life. Her skin felt tight, her nipples constricting into two sharp points. Her heart was thudding so hard, she felt the pulse in her fingertips. Tingling turned to a hollow ache between her thighs.
‘Touch me, Ivy.’ True to his word, he was directing her. Instead of sparking fear or fury, his command came as a relief. Because she wanted to touch him, and his words gave her permission.
Taking an unsteady step forward, she let her fingers explore the silk and steel of hard muscles covered in smooth skin. His light sprinkling of black chest hair crinkled, and when she scraped a nail over the disc of his nipple, he groaned. Her eyes flew to his face. The raw need hardening his mouth, tightening his jaw, flashing in the dark-blue depths of his gaze humbled Ivy. She caused such ravenous hunger in this powerful man, and yet he held it in check. For her.
What a marvellous thought.
On a muttered curse, he delved his hand into her hair, gripping her neck and pulling her close. His kiss was a claiming as he plunged his tongue into her mouth. She welcomed the invasion. Giving her hands free rein, she rubbed down his chest and over the ridges of his belly, delighting as his stomach muscles clenched beneath her fingers. Scraping teeth over his bottom lip, she swallowed his growl and revelled in the friction of her stays pressing against her hardened nipples as he pulled her hands from between their bodies and crushed her tightly to his chest. His mouth nibbled along her jaw to her neck where she felt the bite of teeth before he soothed the same spot with sweet, sucking kisses.
She was dissolving into him, losing herself when he pulled back and moved his hands to her waist. ‘Turn around.’ He pivoted her so she faced away from him.
‘What are you doing?’ It felt strangely vulnerable to give him her back.
‘Do you want me to stop?’ Her hair had fallen from its pins and cascaded behind her. He lifted it, and cool air rushed over the back of her neck before his warm breath caused her to shiver in need. He pressed open-mouthed kisses on her sensitive nape. She was melting once more.
‘No.’ If he stopped, she might spontaneously combust in the middle of her room.
Nipping her shoulder, his sharp teeth were dulled by her dress.
Tugging on her hips, he pulled her with him as he took a step backwards, then another. Sitting on the chair, he drew her onto his lap, her back to his chest, her head falling onto his shoulder, giving him free access to her neck and throat. His steel shaft pressed insistently against her bottom, and she lifted her hips.
‘I don’t want to hurt you.’
He pulled her firmly back in place. ‘You won’t. Trust me. It feels amazing.’ He ground her against him and groaned. ‘But this isn’t for me.’
Ivy wasn’t sure if he said that to her, or himself. She opened her mouth to ask why this couldn’t be for him, but he was nuzzling her neck. He bit her softly, then sucked the sensitive flesh. Ivy moaned as blood rushed to the surface in a wash of heat.
She didn’t realise his hands were busy bunching up her skirt until the night air wound around her ankles and up her calves, causing her thighs to tremble. She should stop him.
But why? I want this. He wants this. Why can’t we share this magic together, just for tonight?
‘Have you touched yourself before?’
Ivy’s thoughts froze. The very idea was shocking.
‘Because you are going to touch yourself now, Ivy. You are going to show me what you want. What you like.’
She couldn’t possibly. Tensing to stand, he shifted his arm to wrap diagonally over her torso, clamping her tightly against him. His other hand stopped tugging up her skirt. For a moment, they sat together, breaths coming hard, bodies tight with need. ‘Do you want me to stop? You need only say.’
She arched against him but didn’t speak the word.
‘Or do you want to touch yourself, Ivy? Do you want to see how glorious it feels? To discover how much pleasure your body can experience?’
Well, when he puts it that way, only a fool would refuse.
Ivy was no fool. ‘Yes,’ she moaned.
His dark laugh rumbled against her back. ‘Oh, no. That won’t do. You must be specific, or I won’t know. Tell me you want to touch yourself. Tell me you want to feel the wet heat of your quim as you finger that sweet little nub hiding beneath all your layers.’
