Page 12 of The Rake and the Muse
“Pleasuring yourself?” he finished for her. Part of him regretted getting her attention because watching her do so might have been better than drawing.
She nodded.
“Where did you learn such things? And please don’t tell me from another man.” He didn’t like the thought of that one bit.
“A friend told me,” she responded, the shyness prevalent in her tone. “It comes in quite useful when one isn’t certain about marrying.”
“And was this friend a man?” he asked. His blood boiled from the mere notion of a man speaking the words to her.
She shook her head. “A female friend who was… experienced.”
“Good.” He released a long breath.
“Why is that good?”
He shifted himself to stand directly in front of her. “Because I’m not certain I wish to imagine that anyone else had seen you this way.” He wasn’t sure why he felt that way, or why he would admit it to her, but he would thrash any man who attempted to do so.
She swallowed hard.
“What were you thinking about?” he asked.
She shook her head.
He cupped her chin with his hand and leaned his face closer to her, nodding. “Tell me.” He would get it out of her.
“I can’t.”
“Were you thinking about me?” He had a feeling she was based on her reaction to him, and his cock was the hardest it had ever been waiting for her response. His honor slowly evaporated the more their conversation continued.
She froze, then closed her eyes and nodded. “Yes.”
He lowered his lips to her ear. “Good girl,” he whispered. “Were you imagining what I might look like without clothing?”
She nodded, barely meeting his eye. He found her newfound shyness charming, given what he walked in on. She was a goddess who knew what it meant to take her pleasure, and he’d help her feel that way again in his presence.
He unbuttoned his shirt, taking each button slow and steady while he caught her gaze. Once he had unfastened all the buttons, he removed the shirt and tossed it aside. Then he unbuttoned his breeches and pushed them down to the floor. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. She had him under her spell.
He held his arms out so she could get a look at him in the candlelight. “Touch me anywhere you wish. As long as I get to touch you in all the same places.” It only seemed fair, after all. He wondered if she might kick him out of her room for a few moments while shecontemplated him.
But then she pushed herself back up higher onto her knees and took in his form. Even in the low lighting, he could see the desire and intrigue in her eyes. The realization made his shaft twitch. She didn’t appear to notice as she reached out her hand and grazed her fingers across his hard chest with a smattering of hair.
“I feel like it’s only fair that you drop your sheet, don’t you think?” There wasn’t a bit of rational gentlemanly sense left. He was all primal man standing before the most tempting of women.
She raised her chin and caught his gaze, then let the sheet fall to the bed. He saw the confidence returning to her and couldn’t wait to see what she would do.
She brought her other hand to his chest so that both palms rubbed across him. Her hands were the softest he’d ever felt on his skin. It took every ounce of his remaining control to keep his arms at his sides and not shift her beneath him on her bed.
Juliet shifted one hand up his neck and into his hair, running her fingers through it.
“I had a feeling your hair would be silky to the touch,” she said. So she had thought about touching him all over, too.
“Is that all you were curious about, Jules?” He wanted her hands all over his body, far more than she even realized.
She shifted her other hand down his trim waist to his hip. He held his breath, hoping she might take his cock in her hand, but she slipped her hand lower and massaged his thigh.
“You are so muscular,” she said, almost with a sigh.
Her hand moved again, and this time she cupped the cheek of his arse. The anticipation was almost more than he could bear, waiting for her to touch him in the place where he throbbed for her.
