Page 52 of The Earl Takes All
She fought to keep her own hands equally chaste as they roamed over his shoulders, chest, and back, loosening his cravat, setting his buttons free, but never venturing below his waist, never traversing to the heart of his manhood, even though she could feel it pressed against her, straining against his trousers.
Slowly, so gradually that she was barely aware of it happening, he shifted position until they were stretched out on the sofa, her legs entangled with his, his strong arm cradling her the only thing that kept her from tumbling to the floor.
Tearing his mouth from hers, he erupted in deep, masculine, satisfied laughter. “Why the hell are we cramped together here on the sofa when we could be sprawled in the bed?”
“Because it makes what we’re doing seem more forbidden.”
Holding her gaze, he danced his fingers slowly along her cheek, her neck. “You like the forbidden.”
Her cheeks warmed as she recalled all the inappropriate things she’d muttered in his ear, his deaf ear, words no proper lady should ever know, much less speak. Powerfully titillating, they were her little secret. What would his opinion of her be if he knew of them?
“You never have to hide anything from me, Jules,” he murmured in a low cadence that thrummed through her, made her want to hear him purring unsuitable, suggestive statements. “You can always be yourself with me.”
Only she couldn’t, not on this matter. Once she spoke the words so he could hear them, there would be no taking them back. What if she offended him, shocked him, caused him to lose all respect for her? What if he didn’t? The allure of whispering wicked things in his ear would dissipate. She liked doing it because she knew she shouldn’t.
“I am always myself with you,” she assured him, and part of being herself was keeping some delicious secrets.
She brought his head down until their mouths met, their tongues danced and their moans echoed around them. Until the passion soared and the hunger had them rolling off the sofa and onto the floor. How he managed to do it so he landed first, cushioning her fall, was beyond her.
She wanted him desperately, now, tonight. Wanted him moving inside her—
“Enough!” He scooted away from her until he was sitting with his back against the wall, one leg stretched out before him, the other raised, knee bent. Breathing heavily, he plowed his hand through his hair, tugged on his ear in that endearing way he had, and gazed at her with smoldering eyes that put the heat from the fire to shame. “You are a vixen.”
With a self-satisfied laugh, she pushed herself up until her back was against the sofa. She brought her knees up against her chest, tucked the hem of her nightdress beneath her toes. “You want me.”
“Of course I want you. With every breath I draw.”
She almost giggled as though she were a young girl. He was disheveled, his shirt hanging half off. She’d done that. Made a mess of him. They’d never gone at it before out of the bed. He was correct. She did like forbidden things.
“You show remarkable restraint, my lord.” She wanted to go to her hands and knees, crawl toward him like a cat stalking its prey, but until they could bring their passions to complete physical fruition, it seemed cruel to tease him too much.
“You’ve no idea.”
She batted her eyelashes coquettishly. “Oh, I think I do.”
Laughing, he dropped his head back. “You will be the death of me.”
“They call it the little death, don’t they?” she asked, feigning a shyness she didn’t really feel. Lately she’d been bolder with him than she’d ever been. Perhaps it was giving birth that made her so comfortable with the needs of her body. And his. “That moment when the world falls away.”
“Is that what it feels like for you?”
Nodding, she knew she was blushing. She would probably ignite if she ever shared with him the words she dared to utter that he couldn’t hear. “And you?”
He released a long, slow sigh. “Makes me feel as though I could conquer the world. And it feels bloody marvelous as well.”
She laughed lightly, and dared to repeat, “Yes, it feels bloody marvelous.”
Shoving himself to his feet, he reached a hand down to her. “Come, my little vixen. To bed. We have company to entertain tomorrow, a feast to consume, and a day to enjoy.”
Liking immensely that he considered her a vixen, she slipped her hand in his. “And one less day to mark off until we can be together completely,” she told him as he pulled her up.
“One less day,” he said, leading her to the bed.
She found it odd that he sounded a little saddened by the prospect. Keeping her observations to herself, she clambered beneath the blankets and was soon nestled in his arms. She wanted nothing to ruin what had been a most wonderful Christmas Eve.
“Yougentlemen are absolutely no good at this game,” Julia announced, crossing her arms over her chest, mimicking a pout that as it turned out wasn’t as much of a mimic as it should have been. She was striving not to be cross, because they weren’t taking the activity seriously.
After a Christmas feast filled with much talk and laughter, rather than letting the gentlemen retreat to the smoking room for port and a cigars, she insisted they join her and Minerva in the parlor for a few games.
