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Rotating her, he gently guided her down to the chaise. On the descent, she loosened his cravat and pulled it from his neck, tossing it away. Her hands worked at the buttons of his waistcoat, and when she’d released them all, he shrugged out of the garment and threw it to the side.
She was so beautiful in the glow of the fire, her hair radiant and lush, her skin gleaming like a pearl. He kissed her again, and she ran her hands and fingers through his hair, over his neck, and inside the collar of his shirt, her warm flesh teasing his.
Trailing his mouth down her body, he found her breast once more, eagerly devouring her nipple as she arched up into him. “Tobias.”
Every time she said his name, a thrill shot through him. There was a stark intimacy in the way she said it or perhaps in the way she touched him and looked at him. He couldn’t precisely remember when she began to command his thoughts, but it had happened wholly, and he didn’t want to return to before.
He’d planted his knee between hers as he leaned over her and kept his other foot on the floor. She clasped his waist and pulled while he felt her rise from the chaise, her body seeking his. Finding the hem of her night rail, he lifted the garment to her hips. He gently caressed her thighs, then her mons, delighting in the shivers that twitched across her flesh. She moaned as he stroked across her sex, his fingertips sliding over her soft crease.
Moving beneath him, she gripped his waist and his neck. “Tobias, please.”
She seemed to know what she wanted or at least that she wanted something. He did not want to disappoint her.
He lifted his head and kissed the side of her throat beneath her ear. Slipping his finger inside her, he whispered, “Is this what you want?”
“Yes.” She pulled on his hair and guided his mouth to hers. Sealing her lips against his, she kissed him over and over, teasing him with her tongue. “More.”
His body shook with need as he stroked into her, pressing his finger deep until she jerked up, gasping into his mouth. Her muscles clenched around him, urging him to move faster. He alternated between massaging her clitoris and pumping into her, meeting her thrusts with his own.
Her cries grew as her body arched more frantically beneath him. He could feel how close she was, and he wanted to send her blissfully over the edge into oblivion. Tearing his lips from hers, he moved down, pushing her night rail up to her belly. He put his mouth on her sex, his tongue flicking over her clitoris as he plunged his finger into her sheath.
She let out a string of unintelligible words as her body began to shudder. Her thighs quivered around him as he licked over and into her sex, parting her flesh with his fingers. Her muscles clenched, bearing down around him as she let out a high, keening cry. He reached up and touched his finger to her mouth. She sucked him between her lips, and his cock responded, twitching against his clothing, desperate for release.
Gradually, she began to quiet, her movements slowing. She released his finger, and he glanced up to see her casting her head back against the chaise. He kissed her thigh, her hip, the slope between her belly and her sex.
She reached for him, grabbing his shirt over each shoulder. “You can’t be finished.”
He pulled his shirt from his waistband and looked down into the dark, glossy chocolate of her eyes. “Not by half. But if we areto continue, I need an affirmative answer to a critical question.” He stroked his fingertips along her cheek. “Will you marry me?”
17
Marry him?
For the second time that day, Fiona was at a complete loss for words. He didn’t want to marry her. He wanted to shag her.
She pushed at his chest, sending him off balance so that he landed on his arse at the end of the chaise. “You don’t really want to marry me.”
He stared at her, a slight frown tugging at his lips. “Why not?”
“Look where we are, what we were doing. I may be from the country, but I am not a fool.”
“I’m very confused. Were you not enjoying that? I thought you were.”
“Of course, I enjoyed it.” She’d finally experienced a real release—orgasm, as the book had called it. The book had contained drawings of what he’d just done, but she’d never imagined the devastating wonder of it. She pulled up the neckline of her night rail, covering herself completely.
“Then marry me, and we can do it over and over again.”
That was exceedingly tempting. She looked at him once more, her gaze dipping to the V of his shirt, which exposed a tantalizing expanse of his chest, some of it dusted with dark hair. Her hands practically itched to explore him the way she devoured a new map, her fingers tracing over every fascinating revelation.
“This is not a good reason to get married.” She reached down for her dressing gown and stood from the chaise.
“It’s sure as hell not a bad one. People have married for far less.”
She had only to think of her mother and father to know that was true. They hadn’t shared some grand passion. No matter how hard she tried, Fiona couldn’t recall even one moment of intimacy between them—no stolen glances, no touching, and certainly no kissing. Still, having that…connectionwasn’t enough. Especially not when independence was in sight, something a woman like her could never have expected. An amazing life—andadventure—was within her grasp. Even the queen had advocated she seek that. And if she did marry, she didn’t have to settle for anything less than the man of her dreams, a notionTobiashad put into her head.
Drawing her gown on over her night rail, she fastened the front. “You should marry the woman of your dreams,” she said softly. “Especially after what happened with Lady Bentley. Furthermore, I deserve to find the man of my dreams—if he exists.”
He stood, and with the fire behind him, his face was inscrutable.