Page 31

When Evelyn finally leaned back on her heels and looked at him in awe, lips a dark pink from their ministrations, Richard knew he would never be able to share this with anyone else.

She had ruined him. Ruined him, for all others. And he did not care.

“So,” she said lightly. “What happens next?”

Richard did not give her any additional time to speak—to think. He moved swiftly, gripping her wrists and pulling her forward. “Mount me.”

Evelyn blinked, as though she had absolutely no idea what he meant. “I—I beg your pardon?”

“I said , mount me,” said Richard urgently. God, his manhood was thickening again. It was an occupational hazard, it appeared, of being around her. Especially when she was naked.

Evelyn was staring, lips parted. “Do—Do you mean…?”

“Think of it like riding a horse,” Richard said, trying desperately to keep the begging tone from his voice. He had some pride. Probably. “Trust me. You’ll enjoy it.”

It could not have been more clear that Evelyn was not sure he would be right, but she shifted forward to straddle him and slowly lowered herself onto his stiffening manhood, her slick folds a surefire demonstration of how aroused she had become as she had ministered to him.

Evelyn’s eyes widened. “Oh! Oh, that feels…”

Her voice trailed off, but Richard needed to know, needed to hear her say it. “Tell me, Evelyn. Tell me how it feels.”

“I can never explain how I feel right now.”

“I need to hear it. I need to hear you,” Richard said quietly.

She met his gaze, and something passed between them that was greater than lust, better than desire. It could only have been love.

“I… You fill me, and every time you move, I feel… I feel pleasure,” Evelyn whispered.

“Good,” said Richard softly. “Now ride me.”

“‘Ride’?”

“Pretend I’m a horse and you’re galloping across a common,” Richard said with a wry smile. “Your body will know what to do.”

Evelyn evidently did not think so, but her devotion to him was complete. Though clearly not sure why she was doing so, she slowly raised herself up until only his tip was nestled within her, and she dropped, faster, onto him.

“Ohhhh…”

“You like that? You like spearing yourself with me?” Richard said, trying to remind himself desperately that he was speaking to a member of the nobility.

One who was naked and whose breasts bounced most deliciously as she moved.

Damn it!

“I like it,” murmured Evelyn, her cheeks flushed, but her smile wide. “You know, I might just do it again.”

And she did. It was all Richard could do, holding on to the blanket and watching the picture of erotic mystery, to prevent himself from spilling his seed in her within seconds.

Evelyn’s movements became more fluid as her confidence grew, her breathing becoming panting becoming whimpers as he saw the pleasure build in her.

God, he could do this for the rest of his life.

“Richard I’m going to—”

“Take all the pleasure you can get,” he whispered.

Evelyn threw back her head as she rode him to completion, her fluttering moans quieter this morning but still more than loud enough to echo around the studio.

It was too much. Richard had held back, but he could no longer. He allowed himself to revel in the glory of her pleasure and soon his own had arrived.

“Yes—yes, Evelyn, yes!”

Richard lost himself to the thrusting as his climax poured into her. This time, it was she who fell into his arms, and they lay there for goodness knew how long, their lungs ragged, their need to touch each other absolute.

When, eventually, Evelyn pushed herself up and slowly dismounted from him, Richard felt her absence like a thrust of a dagger into his guts. Which he knew well.

“I asked you before what happens next,” she said softly, lying to his side and flushing as she spoke. “I suppose I will need to ask it again.”

Richard swallowed.

What happens next?

It was an excellent question, and not one he thought he could answer in this moment. There was not enough blood in his brain to make it work. It was still, mostly, south of his waist.

But as his ribcage unclenched and his body started to relax, Richard realized that there was no need to answer that question right now.

He loved Lady Evelyn Chance. He was almost certain she returned his affection—if not, then he had grossly misunderstood the last twelve hours or so. He had her parents’ support to ask for her hand. So. All of that was taken care of.

The only thing left was to decide how to propose.

And he couldn’t do it here. Richard may have been a rake at times, but he knew enough about the ladies of Society to know there were some expectations when it came to declaring one’s love and asking for the lady’s hand.

Doing so while lying naked, desire-soaked, and recently bedded was not the way to do it.

So all he had to do was prepare a proposal that was worthy of her in the next day or two, and then Evelyn would know everything.

“I think we enjoy ourselves until luncheon, and you have to disappear off to your family,” Richard said quietly.

For a moment, a shadow flickered over Evelyn’s face. He had expected it. She had hoped for something more concrete; something more promising for the future for which she clearly wished.

It would all be worth it, he knew, once he had revealed his identity and asked her to become his viscountess.

“Is that not what some of the greatest artists say?” Richard added. “To enjoy oneself? To be in the moment?”

For a heart-stopping moment, he thought Evelyn was going to disagree with him. That she was going to tell him that she needed more, more than he could give her right now. That he would lose her, merely because he had not prepared a proposal in advance.

She smiled. She kissed him, hard on the mouth. And she giggled. “Well, unless we want a repeat of what just happened, I suppose we had better put our clothes on.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Richard said dryly.

It was not much of a hardship, in truth. Evelyn fully dressed was still intensely desirable, and with the knowledge of what they could share, what her mouth could do, it was challenging in the extreme to get his trousers on.

“Blast.”

Richard looked up, astonished. “Did you just say, ‘blast’ again?”

“Well, you have ravished me now,” Evelyn said lightly, though her cheeks were pink as she turned to face him by the easel. “I suppose it is only fair that you can start to learn my faults.”

‘Faults’? The woman had uttered one of the mildest curses known to mankind, and she considered it a fault?

The time for luncheon came and went. Richard felt the hunger of his stomach, but he was far more interested in being here, with Evelyn.

She laughed as they talked, him seated in the chair with his shirt off, her by the easel, drawing.

He told her about the time that he had been accidentally shipwrecked off the coast of Brittany; she told him of the time she and her sister had been accidentally brought up before the magistrates of Kensington.

“A complete misunderstanding,” she said blithely, narrowing her eyes as she attempted something clearly complicated on the paper.

“But—magistrates?”

“My father straightened the whole thing out. It was a misunderstanding, as I said,” Evelyn said lightly.

“The trouble was of course that Lucy had absolutely done it and I had been apprehended attempting to stop her, but no one would believe an earl’s daughter would try to break a prisoner out of Newgate. She was most upset.”

Richard was not surprised. “That she was caught?”

“That she wasn’t punished!” Evelyn laughed. “She said it was an example of how the rich and powerful continue on with their lives unheeded by… something else. I forget. What was I saying?”

Her cheeks flushed as her attention returned to his eyes—returned after dwelling a while on his bare chest.

Richard grinned. “Weren’t you going to teach me to draw?”

And so she did attempt to teach him to draw. It was a complete fiasco.

“What is that, a sheep?”

“It’s a horse!” Richard said defensively, trying not to laugh as Evelyn turned his paper upside down as she squinted at it. “Haven’t you ever seen a horse before?”

“Not one like that,” she retorted with a grin. “Poor thing.”

“The horse, or me?”

“Oh, you, most definitely.” Evelyn laughed, returning his drawing to him and shaking her head. “I am afraid there is no hope for you. No natural talent whatsoever.”

He might have been offended, if he had not been laughing so hard. “That is what I was trying to tell you last night!”

Infuriating woman. Delicious woman. Woman who had completely stolen his affections and could never give them back.

There was a twinkle of mischief in Evelyn’s eyes as she returned to her easel and picked up a charcoal. “Aren’t you glad that I ignored you and decided to model for you instead?”

Richard swallowed. So grateful. So glad. So unsure of how he had managed to capture the attention of this beautiful, irritating, clever woman that sometimes he was worried that if he breathed wrong, it would all disappear and the dream would be over.

Evelyn had not waited for his reply. Her concentration had left him, focusing instead on the paper before her.

He left her to her art as he remained as still as he could, desperate to please her. Besides, in the comfortable companionable silence in which she worked, he could be thinking—about the perfect proposal.