Page 29 of Let Me Be Your Hero
And three—Archibald was a craftsman.
Which meant he wasvery goodwith his hands.
Without warning, he pulled Izzie onto his lap.
Normally, he would have started with a little more finesse. But he only had eleven minutes, damn it, so finesse would just have to wait.
He kissed her fiercely, the way he thought she liked, and allowed his hands to rove over all the delicate places to which he had denied himself access last night.
He could feel her stomach trembling with nervous energy, like a bumblebee’s wings. As he stroked his way up her delicate torso, she shivered. And when his calloused thumb found a nipple, already peaked, through the silk of her gown, Izzie moaned into his mouth.
Recalling what she had said last night about loving the feeling of him holding her down, he pressed her back against the cushions of the sofa, pinning her in place with his hips. He caught both of her wrists in one hand and brought them up over her head, restraining her.
Rather than trying to be gentle, he let go. He kissed her like he wanted to devour her, which he did. He let his free hand rove over her body, the way he’d been dreaming of doing for years. With a snarl, he yanked the front of her bodice down, exposing the delicate curves of her breasts to his hungry gaze.
He worried he was being too rough, but as he kissed his way across her collarbone, her chest rose and fell in rapid pants. Her cheeks were flushed, but not, he thought, with embarrassment. No, the dazed look in her eyes bespoke arousal.
Encouraged, he bent down and sucked a perfect, dusky rose nipple into his mouth. She gave a soft cry, her hips bucking against him.
All signs seemed extremely promising. How he would’ve liked to linger on her breasts, to tease her until she was out of her mind with pleasure and crying out for what came next. But, seeing as time was of the essence, he went ahead and started drawing up her skirts. He had to release her wrists in order to kneel on the floor between her legs.
Izzie sat halfway up. “Archibald?” she asked, suddenly looking nervous again. “Won’t I bleed if you take my—my maidenhead?”
He’d reached the skin on her thighs, which was the color of cream and as soft as satin. “You would. But I’m not going to take your maidenhead.”
She frowned but didn’t offer any resistance as he pressed her thighs open. God, she was gorgeous here, too, flushed and pink and already slick for him. She even smelled like heaven.
He started kissing his way up the inside of her thighs.
“But if you’re not going to take my maidenhead, how are you going to—oh. Oh.Oh!”
His tongue found the little bud at the juncture of her thighs, and Izzie didn’t ask any more questions for some time.
Izzie didn’t see how Archibald was going to bring her pleasure without taking her maidenhead. The maid she had paid a shilling to answer her questions when she was fourteen had told her she would find her enjoyment from a man’s cock, sliding in and out of her passage.
But as soon as Archibald started flicking his tongue over thatamazingspot, Izzie realized that there were quite a few things the maid had failed to mention.
It feltbeautiful, it feltbeyondbeautiful, and she understood in an instant that this was it, the thing the poets sang about, the reason people did foolish things in pursuit of this pleasure, even when it brought them to ruin.
Everything seemed to crescendo. Helpless sounds of bliss emerged from her lips, and the panicked thought that hermotherwas probably listening at the door flitted across herdazed mind. But she couldn’t seem to stop making them, any more than she could stop the trembling of her thighs.
Suddenly, Archibald’s hand appeared next to her mouth but not to clamp down over her lips. She realized with a start that he was offering her the heel of his hand to bite down on. She availed herself of his offer, wrapping her lips over her teeth so she wouldn’t hurt him… although, who knew if she even could have, given the thick callouses covering his palm.
But there was no time to worry about that now, because Archibald had started swirling his tongue faster, which feltso good, which felt likemagicandrainbowsandperfection, and she was going to… She was going to…Oh, God, she was going to…
That was when everything shattered.
CHAPTER 15
“Iam terribly sorry about the vase, and I hope you will allow me to replace it.”
Izzie watched Archibald, who was speaking to her mother, with dazed eyes. In retrospect, the thing that had shattered had been a gold and white porcelain vase that, up until a few minutes ago, had been adorning the console table running along the back of the sofa. It had apparently fallen victim to a flailing arm in the moment she found her ecstasy.
The sound of Messrs. Spode’s handiwork missing the Axminster carpet by several inches and breaking into pieces upon the hardwood floor had drawn not merely her mother but all her siblings, their spouses, and family friends, including the Duke of Trevissick, Samuel Branton, a barrister who worked closely with the Ladies’ Society and who was assisting with the search for whoever was trying to kill her, and Harrington’s particular friend, Peter Ferguson.
Izzie made a valiant and probably fruitless effort to compose her features and pretend that Archibald had not just shifted the earth upon its axis, that what had passed between them had been a routine proposal of marriage, and that nothing improper had taken place. She had been useless, unable to recover ascintilla of composure, ever since Archibald initiated her into the world of bliss. He had been the one to restore her garments to rights and sit her up on the sofa, all while calling out to her mother that he was “Coming” as she frantically banged on the door and shouted for someone to fetch the spare key.
In spite of Archibald’s best efforts, Lucy was giving her an arch look, a look that saidI am expecting afullreport, but that was different. Lucy was her twin. She had expected Lucy to be able to read her.
