Page 24 of Courting Scandal With The Duke
His mind told him to slow, but his body urged him to press home into her hot depths.
With a groan he reached between them, entering her body with his fingers, feeling the wet and heat, using his thumb to strum that little bud that had brought her apart so swiftly before.
She was so ready.
Little moans and cries of need filled his ears. He drove into her. So good.
He was going to—
He held still, waited for that terrible want to ease.
Once more in control, he moved gently but surely inside her. He raised up on his hands and gazed down into her face. Her eyes were closed, her face softened by desire, her lips parted on shuddering breaths.
He kissed her lips, her chin, the rise of her breast. Her nipple.
He gently drew it into his mouth and suckled.
Her hips rose. She made a high keening sound. And fell apart.
Too fast. Not yet—
All thoughts broke in a paroxysm of pleasure.
Only a panicked instinct had him leaving the sweet channel of her body the instant before he came undone. He spilled on the sheets.
They lay panting side by side.
Blackness enveloped him, no matter how hard he tried to remain conscious.
Barbara could not move. She could only breathe. Floating on warm bliss, she wanted to turn her head, to look at Xavier. Darkness descended…
How? she thought as consciousness seeped in. How could it be? So fast. So overwhelming. As if he had some power over her.
Nothing in her experience had prepared her for this.
The other night, she assumed she had drunk too much, been mistaken in what she felt had happened.
No mistake.
Her heart seemed to grow large in her chest.
A feeling of tenderness wrapped in longing overcame her.
A tear leaked at the corner of her eye.
Why?
What had this man done to cause her to feel such a mix of emotions? Happiness. Sadness. Longing for…
She dashed away the tear and gained enough strength to roll over on her side.
Gazing at his face. At the haze of stubble already shadowing his square lean jaw, at the length of his lashes curved above his prominent cheekbone.
The jut of his nose. The heavy eyebrows without their habitual frown for once.
He looked younger. Almost boyish.
She brushed the lock of hair back from his broad forehead.
And resisted the urge to kiss his full lips.
They were lovers, nothing more. He was her path to freedom from the need for another husband, though he did not know it.
In exchange, she was providing him with a little fun that some instinct told her he needed. Badly.
His eyes opened, bright blue and fully alert.
‘Did I wake you?’ she whispered.
‘I wasn’t asleep.’
‘Ooh. You will be punished for telling fibs.’
He chuckled and with a small groan rolled onto his back. ‘You sound like my governess.’
‘Did you like your governess?’
She’d heard tales of privileged young men and their sisters’ governesses.
‘Good Lord, no. She was ancient. And had a mole on her chin which grew thick black hairs. She scared the hell out of me.’
‘Oh. Do I scare you?’
He pulled her close and tucked her into the crook of her arm as if she weighed no more than a feather. ‘Yes.’
Ouch. She had not expected that. It hurt.
He put a finger under her chin, raising her face. He pressed a swift kiss to her lips. ‘Never have I met a woman who caused me to lose control the way you do.’
‘Control?’
He frowned at her. ‘You know. Too soon.’
She recalled Helmut and how he’d pounded into her over and over and never had she felt the bliss she had with Xavier. ‘I like it fast.’
‘Hmm,’ he said, sounding unconvinced. ‘Next time, I will do better.’
She must have made a sound of concern, because he chuckled.
‘Don’t worry. You will like it just as well, if not better.’
She did not see how on earth it could be better. Indeed, if it replicated her experience with Helmut, she would be severely disappointed. But she had not lured him into her bed for pleasure. He was going to rescue her from a fate worse than death.
Even if he never knew it.
The likelihood of him ever speaking to her again after she exposed their affair to the world was exceedingly slight, especially when he realised she was the source.
And she would endure whatever was needed in the meantime, the way she had always endured.
Sadness filled her. Loneliness.
Up until these last few minutes this visit with Xavier had been so…lovely. More than lovely. Amazing. Wondrous. Blissful…
There was no sense in her wishing for what could not be. She had made up her mind.
They lay side by side in silence for a while. She knew he wasn’t sleeping because his hand stroked her hip and his breathing, while even, was not the deep breaths of sleep.
But the silence was companionable. Comfortable. Calming.
Meanwhile the room slowly darkened.
‘What is the time?’ she asked.
He turned his head to look at the window. ‘It must be after four.’
‘I needs must leave soon.’
‘Yes. We should not tarry longer.’ He arose, keeping his back to her, and pulled his shirt over his head, hiding her view of all his lovely, muscled flesh. When he turned back, his shirt tented very obviously at his groin. He desired to make love again.
A breath caught in her throat. Her heart picked up speed. She wanted the same.
She almost said something provocative. But no. She really must leave.
‘Up you get,’ he said, holding out his hand.
He helped her down from the bed and assisted her with her clothing.
Finally, he lifted the heavy weight of her hair with a frown. ‘I don’t think there is much I can do with this.’
She picked up the brush on the dressing table. It was clean. No sign of the previous owner’s hair.
‘It is new,’ he said as if guessing at her thoughts.
She began pulling the brush through her hair.
He took it from her and began teasing out the tangles.
His face in the mirror was intent, his touch gentle.
A spark of something sour rose in her breast. ‘You have done this before.’
Jealousy. Surely not?
‘I believe I have.’ His voice was distant. His expression remote.
‘You believe?’ The edge of her annoyance sharpened.
His gaze focussed. He looked at her in the mirror.
‘It isn’t important.’
‘I am sure it isn’t.’ Mistresses were ten a penny no doubt, and likely he’d had a score of them.
He put the brush down.
She gathered her hair in one hand and deftly twisted it into a bun at her nape. She pinned it firmly .
‘Amazing,’ he said.
Not so amazing when you were left on your own for weeks on end to tend to yourself.
‘I am ready,’ she said.
‘Wait. I will escort you.’ He sat and pulled on his pantaloons.
‘I don’t think that would be a good idea,’ she said and went into the living room to fetch her hat and her reticule.
He stood in the doorway of the bedroom watching.
‘When shall I see you again?’ he asked.
The thought of seeing him again made her foolish heart tumble over.
No. No. It was not that she wanted to see him. She had to see him. And at some point be seen.
‘Same time next week?’
‘But you will come to the theatre with me in the meantime. I have a box at Covent Garden. I will send a message.’
‘Go with you alone?’ she said, startled and intrigued. Perhaps this would be her opportunity.
‘Certainly not. I will invite a group of friends. Julian. A couple of others that you know.’
Something she could use to her advantage? She would have to think about it.
‘I will invite your aunt also, of course.’
Bother. She hated the idea of embarrassing Aunt Lenore. ‘I am not some debutante in need of a chaperone, you know.’
He frowned.
She did not want to arouse any suspicions in his mind. She waved an airy hand. ‘It is your party. You must do as you wish.’
When she stepped out onto the front step, he remained in the shadows of the small hallway. The door closed with a sharp click.
A feeling of joy filled her. Joy and wonder and happiness. She almost skipped up the front path. Why? Because of the way he made her feel? Surely not. No. It was because everything was going according to plan.
A twinge of regret touched her heart. It was a shame that this delightful interlude would be so short-lived. Perhaps she could wait a few more weeks before—
No. Father would arrive soon. He always did when she wanted him least.
She could not afford to delay.