Page 114 of The Scoundrel's Daughter
Pleasure.
She slid her fingers through his hair and pressed herselfagainst him—thigh against thigh, belly to belly, breast against chest. Her knees felt suddenly weak. A long shudder rippled down her spine, some deep hollow within her aching for... for what, she had no idea. Only a need for which she had no name... She clutched his shoulders, leaning against him.
He shifted his grip and swung her up off her feet. She squeaked in surprise, and he smiled. “Time to move into the bedroom.”
Oh. The heat drained out of her. The kissing was over. It was time for the... the other.
He set her on her feet beside the bed, then sat on the other side of the bed and pulled off his boots and stockings. He stood to remove his coat, then swiftly unbuttoned his waistcoat. He draped his coat over the rail at the end of the bed and folded the waistcoat over it. She watched as he dragged his fine white-linen shirt over his head, shook it out, then draped it over the rail.
He wore no undershirt—his chest was bare and hard with a dusting of dark hair and two small, hard nipples. She tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help herself. She hadn’t known that men had nipples. His arms were powerful, strong and sinewy, his forearms sunburned.
She stood unmoving, gazing across the bed at him. Her mouth dried.
His mouth curved in an understanding smile. “Do you need help with that dress?”
Flushing at being caught staring, she nodded. She’d anticipated this part, and knew she’d be disrobing without her maid to help, but she hadn’t expected to be undressing in front of him. Even less that he would undress in front of her. She turned her back. “Just untie the bow at the top and loosen the laces, please.” She could manage from there.
Deftly he untied her laces, and swiftly pulled them not just loose but free. Cool air whispered down her spine,warm fingers brushed against her skin. She shivered, not quite understanding why. She wasn’t cold.
Her dress started to slide. She grabbed at it, but, “I have it,” he said, and eased it down over her hips and all the way to the floor. He knelt and looked up at her, waiting, and she had no option but to step out of it, leaving her in just her underclothes. He gathered up the folds and draped the dress over the bed rail.
She began to unhook her stays—she’d chosen front-fastening ones deliberately—but, “Allow me.” His voice was slightly husky.
She could barely breathe as one by one he undid the hooks down the front of her stays. She wore a chemise underneath, but even so, she felt the brush of his knuckles through the fine lawn fabric. Her nipples were hard and tight and extraordinarily sensitive.
On the fifth hook he looked up from his task. “You can breathe, you know.”
She huffed in a nervous half laugh, and he leaned forward and kissed her, lavish, leisurely kisses that sent shivers coursing through her again. Straightening, he slipped her stays down her arms and tossed them aside. He’d undone the rest of the hooks while kissing her; she hadn’t even noticed.
He was breathing more heavily now. So was she. He reached for the buttons on the fall of his buckskin breeches.
“I’ll get my stockings.” She turned away hastily and sat on the bed. She stripped off her stockings and then her drawers. All she wore now was her chemise.
“Oh,” she exclaimed. “My nightgown—it’s in the valise.”
“You won’t need a nightgown.” His voice was deep and a little hoarse. She turned to say something—but every word evaporated from her brain. He was naked. Completely, totally naked.
Alice didn’t know where to look. She’d never seen anaked man before. Thaddeus had always come to her either fully dressed or, in the early part of their marriage, in a dressing gown with a nightshirt underneath. And she’d always worn a nightgown.
She glanced at him, then away, and then back again, until she was unable to look away. She was fascinated by the hard-packed masculine shape of him, so different from her.
And his male parts—was that what they looked like? She’d only felt them—it—pounding into her. She swallowed. He looked bigger in that area than Thaddeus.
Would bigger mean more painful?
She closed her eyes briefly. Stop thinking about Thaddeus, she told herself. This was James, and it was going to be different—quite different. It had to be.
James stood and let her look, seemingly quite comfortable in his bare skin.
Did he expect the same of her? She couldn’t. She’d never been wholly naked in front of anyone before—only her maid when she was in her bath. She dragged her gaze off him and dived under the covers. The sheets were smooth and cold.
He slid into the bed as well, and she immediately felt the effect of his big, warm body so close to hers. He rolled onto his side, facing her, and pulled her close.
Rain spattered against the windows. Wind tossed the branches around and moaned around the chimney. The heat of his body soaked into hers.
This was it.
She opened her legs and braced herself.
