Page 34 of Ladies in Hating (Belvoir’s Library Trilogy #3)

Cat felt feverish, not quite in control as she pushed Georgiana back onto the surface of the desk. Things crashed, and she fumbled for the hem of Georgiana’s chemise, desperate for skin, for heat, for more.

But Georgiana hushed her. “Your family—they’ll hear!”

Cat groped for sense and also, very lightly, for Georgiana’s left thigh. “You’re right.” She pressed her face against Georgiana’s neck and inhaled her amber-dark scent. “I know you’re right. I’m trying to pull myself together. Your lack of underpinnings temporarily unhinged me.”

Georgiana stroked the back of Cat’s head, but she did not say anything.

Cat pulled back. “Are you all right? Did I horrify you?”

“No! No.” Georgiana wrapped her fingers in the folds of Cat’s skirts, bunching the gray fabric in her fist. “It’s only—here you are dressed again, while I’m down to my shift.”

“I don’t see any sort of problem in that,” Cat said vehemently. And then she paused, looking at Georgiana’s uncertain face. “Do you? Tell me, Georgie. Is something wrong?”

“I’m—I want—” Georgiana hesitated. In the flickering candlelight, her eyes looked like a storm.

Cat rubbed her palm along Georgiana’s thigh, cautious and soothing, and tried to find the right words.

“You can tell me. I shan’t think less of you, no matter what it is that’s in your mind.

” She ran her thumb across Georgiana’s knee, warm through the silk of her stocking.

“I promise you, heart of my heart, there is nothing shameful between us. You could not wish for anything that I would not want to give you.”

Georgiana swallowed, a quick bob of her long ivory throat.

And how had Cat ever thought Georgiana cold? All her emotions were transparent in her face: in the tremble of her lower lip, the tiny muscle that flexed in her jaw as she tried to find the words.

“I had never done this before,” she said finally. “Before the inn. And I want—” She broke off and wrapped her fingers around Cat’s wrist. “I want to watch you. I should like to know that I am bringing you pleasure, and I want you to tell me when I’m doing it right.”

Cat felt a hot flush rise along her skin at Georgiana’s words. Not just because of the image they engendered—though that was as vivid in her mind as if Georgiana had handed her an engraving—but because Georgiana had spoken of her desires at all.

Georgiana trusted her. Georgiana felt safe beneath Cat’s hands.

That knowledge was desperately erotic. Cat felt her breath quicken as she looked at Georgiana, lithe and strong and extravagantly beautiful, there upon her desk.

“Come,” she said, and took Georgiana’s fingers in her own.

She led Georgiana across the room—it wasn’t far—and positioned her in front of the narrow looking glass that leaned against the wall.

“What—”

“Hold a moment,” Cat said. “You’ll see.”

And then, hastily, she divested herself of her garments while Georgiana watched in stupefaction.

When she was down to nothing but her stockings, she paused and turned to Georgiana. “These too?”

Georgiana’s gaze was hot, and she had to moisten her lips before she spoke. “You can”—her voice wobbled—“leave those on.”

Cat couldn’t help herself. She grinned.

Looking a trifle dizzied, Georgiana smiled back.

Cat moved then to stand between Georgiana and the mirror, her back to Georgiana’s front. She met Georgiana’s gaze in the glass and then brought Georgiana’s hand to her belly, wrapping Georgiana’s arm around her body. “There,” she murmured. “Now you may watch.”

She kept her eyes on Georgiana’s face as Georgiana’s gaze trailed down their reflection in the mirror.

Her expression was ravenous—almost wondering, as she took in the sight of them together in the glass.

Very slowly, she brought her other hand up to trail across Cat’s stomach and then the very tip of one breast.

Cat let loose a single shuddering breath.

“Do you like that?” Georgiana whispered. Her finger made a slow circle around Cat’s nipple.

“Yes.”

Georgiana’s thumb tormented the tip of Cat’s breast, and her other hand settled against Cat’s hip bone, tugging their bodies together. “And this?”

“Very much.” Her voice was low, breathy—she scarcely recognized it.

Georgiana’s mouth pressed hungrily to the side of Cat’s neck, and her fingers slid across Cat’s belly, not quite dipping down between her legs. “And what if I touch you in a way that you do not like?”

Cat twisted against her, trying to bring Georgiana’s fingers closer to where she ached. “I don’t—think that very likely.”

Georgiana slid her fingers down to the ribbon that held up Cat’s stocking. Cat’s thighs were plump; the ribbon dug, just a bit, into her flesh, and Georgiana slid one finger under the taut band.

There was something lewd about the movement—the rough thrust of Georgiana’s finger against her skin. Cat felt her sex clench hard against nothing. She whimpered a little and arched back against Georgiana’s body.

“God,” Georgiana mumbled against Cat’s neck. “God, I want—”

She paused, then suddenly broke away, pulling herself free from Cat’s body.

Cat made a despairing moan that might have embarrassed her at any other moment. “Georgiana—”

“Shh,” Georgiana said, and then she was back with the chair from Cat’s desk. She settled herself into it and dragged Cat down into her lap, both still facing the mirror. “There,” she gasped. “There, now I can—”

She didn’t explain, only demonstrated, hooking Cat’s knees over her own, spreading Cat’s thighs wide, and sliding her hand from Cat’s knee up and up and up.

Cat felt cool air against her wet sex, and she gasped. When she’d pictured this, she had not imagined herself so ruthlessly exposed, her legs pulled wide and Georgiana’s eyes pinned to her body in the glass.

But Georgiana’s heated gaze was better than a caress. Her unsteady breath coasted against Cat’s ear, and her thumb traced the crease of Cat’s pelvis.

“Catriona,” she said thickly. “My God. Look at you.”

Cat looked. In the glass, her sweat-damp hair clung to her temples. Her eyes were dark and dazed with lust. The candlelight glittered off the perspiration that beaded between her breasts—off the arousal that slicked her sex.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tipped her head back so that it landed on Georgiana’s shoulder. “Georgie,” she managed, “I am trying—so hard—to be patient—”

Georgiana laughed unsteadily, and she slid her palm from Cat’s thigh— finally —to settle between her legs. “And you’re doing so well.” Her other hand returned to Cat’s breast. “Do you like this?”

“God, yes, you know I do—”

“Shh,” Georgiana mumbled, “not so loud. Oh—you’re so wet—” Her fingers slipped between Cat’s folds, teasing her entrance with tiny, tormenting circles. “And this?”

“If you do not put your fingers inside me, I am going to die,” Cat said hoarsely, which did not feel at all like melodrama.

Georgiana pushed two fingers inside her, one slow deep thrust, and Cat groaned. God, it felt good, it felt so good, her whole body tight, her feet arching as her culmination bore down upon her.

“Hush,” muttered Georgiana, and then she—she spread her fingers and rubbed her thumb lightly across Cat’s clitoris. “Yes?”

Cat had no idea what she said in return. Language had vanished—there was only the mad throb of desire, and Georgiana’s relentless touch, on and on, bringing her higher and higher.

Please, she might have said, or don’t stop.

Beautiful, Georgiana might have said back. Dearest and beloved.

But she didn’t know for certain. Pleasure was a thick hot rush, a sweet honeyed tide, and then, finally, a wave, mindless and clenching, again and again—and Georgiana gasped and whimpered in her ear and did not stop touching her.

After her culmination, it took long moments for Cat to return to herself—long moments in which Georgiana’s arms wrapped around her and held her tight.

When she could manage it, she turned to press a kiss to the side of Georgiana’s neck. Georgiana’s skin was damp and fine above her urgent pulse. “I am so fond of this part of you.”

“My neck?” Georgiana’s voice wobbled on a laugh. Her fingers, where they swept up Cat’s side, trembled.

“Mm.” Cat turned a little more and kissed the valley between Georgiana’s breasts, and then the delicate swell of skin above her chemise. The post-orgasm languor faded rapidly as she took in the way that Georgiana’s body heated beneath her mouth. “And this part.”

Georgiana brushed Cat’s hair back from her face. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm. This one too.” Cat let her mouth glide over Georgiana’s nipple through the fabric, let Georgiana feel the brush of breath and tongue and lips.

Georgiana gasped, and Cat felt another pulse of desire, deep in her belly, as Georgiana’s nipple went tight beneath her mouth.

Carefully, she sank from Georgiana’s lap down to the floor to kneel between her legs. She shoved Georgiana’s thin chemise up to her thighs—what was it made of, that it should be so transparent?—and licked at the underside of Georgiana’s knee.

Georgiana trembled harder, and oh, perhaps that should not thrill Cat so.

But it did. She could not help herself. She shoved her fingers underneath Georgiana’s stockings and mounted a slow, tormenting assault on Georgiana’s inner thigh with her tongue, not quite reaching the place where she knew Georgiana most wanted her mouth.

Georgiana twisted restlessly and managed to gasp, “Is there something else you’re fond of?”

Cat nearly laughed. “Your ladyship,” she whispered into Georgiana’s dark blond curls, “I begin to suspect you’re flirting with me.”

Georgiana’s hips jerked. “It’s taken you”—she paused to suck in a breath—“an awfully long time to notice.”

Cat pressed her palms into Georgiana’s thighs to hold her still and relished the sensations of her—the extraordinary softness of her skin, the taut muscles that flexed beneath. Her heat inches from Cat’s mouth. “My love,” she murmured, “don’t fret. You have all of my attention now.”