Page 58

“Mhmm,” she murmured letting her head fall back so that Silas could work his way along her now exposed neck, teeth careful against her skin.

Everywhere he nipped, he soothed with a soft kiss, raising the tiny hairs all over her body and drawing her nipples to aching points.

He peeled back the sides of her blouse as far as they would go, revealing her right collarbone, and ran the tip of his tongue along the ridge, licking into the hollow at the base of her throat and pressing an open-mouthed kiss there.

A hot, white star burst in Ophelia’s chest sending tendrils of light and heat along her limbs.

She wanted Silas’s mouth everywhere at once, wanted to press herself as close as possible to his quiet strength, which she could feel vibrating like an animal at the end of its leash.

She gently closed the fingers of the hand in his hair at the nape of his neck, pulling just enough to elicit a grunt of pleasure from him.

He raised his head from her chest, eyes all dark pupil, lips damp and swollen.

“Too many clothes,” Ophelia said, breath choppy, letting go of Silas’s hair to pull her blouse loose from her waistband.

She raised her hands so that he could release the buttons at her wrists, then lifted the shirt over her head, laughing out a screech when a button tangled in her hair, pulling sharply at her scalp.

“Sorry, love, just a moment,” Silas soothed, his large hands delicately undoing the tangle and tossing the blouse onto the bench behind her.

Ophelia flexed her shoulders and reached for Silas, who ran a hand up the outside of her arms, then placed a firm kiss to the ball of each shoulder.

“I love this,” he said, lips against the muscles of her shoulder.

“And this.” He ran his tongue down the line of her bicep, lifting up her hand so he could press his lips to the sensitive flesh on the inside of her arm.

Ophelia sucked in a breath and began to pull her arm back.

“Don’t ever hide this strength, Fee,” he said.

“You’re glowing with it, a glorious goddess. ”

The words ran like warm honey through her and she relaxed her arm, allowing him to kiss his way back up to her shoulder. With her free hand, she began loosening the buttons on his waistcoat, desperate for the feel of his skin.

“I don’t love this,” he growled running his finger along the line of her corset, hooking one into the laces. “Makes it hard to touch you.” His eyes were hooded and dark, and anticipation shivered through Ophelia.

“Well, sir,” she said, smiling at his playful frown, “you’ll need to help me with that,” and began to turn in his arms. Before the words were entirely out, Silas had shifted her to her knees in front of him, and his broad chest against her back, placed her hands on the bench in front of them.

“Silas,” she said on a reedy breath, lust and excitement careening through her body.

Everything she touched felt electric, the rough wood under her hands, the band of her corset now cutting into the flesh of her breasts as they rose and fell, the fabric of her skirts bunched around her legs and under her knees, the scratchy heat of Silas’s trousers moving against the backs of her calves as he knelt between her legs.

His breath at her ear moved the hair against her neck and she shivered.

“May I continue?” he rasped out, his voice catching on every nerve ending in her body. It was all she could do to nod. “Say it aloud, Fee, so I know.”

“Continue . . .” she whispered, “please . . . Silas.”

His name seemed to unlock him and he moved quickly, hands undoing the knotted cord, his fingers dancing along the length of her spine, pulling at the laces until she felt the corset loosen. Silas pressed a kiss between her shoulder blades and pulled her upright.

“You’re the most beautiful package I’ve ever opened,” he murmured against her back.

“I can’t wait to see what’s inside.” Then he reached around her with both arms and gently unhooked the metal clasps holding the top of the corset closed.

Ophelia leaned back against him and arched her back, enjoying the brush of her chemise against her unbound breasts.

Silas slipped a hand inside the open corset and peeled it away from her body, laying it on top of her blouse.

Then he cupped one breast in each hand, testing their weight, rubbing a thumb across each nipple.

“Oh, I—” Ophelia began, then lost her train of thought when Silas rolled each nipple between thumb and forefinger with surprising expertise. Pain and pleasure collided, stealing through her body to pool low in her belly, hot and sweet.

“Sweet, strong girl,” Silas rumbled, lips brushing along her shoulders to the soft spot where her neck met her shoulder.

“ My strong girl,” he said sucking gently at the crook of her neck.

Ophelia shivered at the possessive, wondering if she liked it entirely too much.

But then Silas whispered “strong” again as he ran his hands down her back to the bulk of her skirts and she knew she liked that part even more.

Silas couldn’t seem to pull enough air into his lungs, every breath came fast and hard, and he felt a twinge of hysteria flickering at the edge of his awareness.

He focused on his hands, watched their tanned backs move to fan over the curves of Ophelia’s waist, watched his fingers curl into the firm flesh of her hips through the fabric of her skirts.

This isn’t helping, he thought, as desire threatened to swamp him.

His cock and his heart seem to pulse in time and it was all he could do to stop himself from rushing to bury himself in Ophelia’s wet heat.

Be a bloody gentleman. But he wasn’t, couldn’t be when this woman was involved.

Her back flexed in front of him, the sinews of muscle along her spine and shoulders bunching and releasing as she swayed, pressing her arse into his groin, her hands grasping at the wooden bench in front of her, a soft moan on what he imagined were parted lips.

“Christ above,” he muttered. “Fee ...”

Silas reached down, sliding his hands under the pinstriped fabric, skimmed up the outside of her legs, the mass of her skirts bunching up at his elbows.

He felt the soft cotton of her stockings at her ankles, the wrinkle of fabric at Ophelia’s bent knees, then, under the legs of her pantaloons, the warm satin of her bare thigh.

“Jesus,” he growled and sat back on his heels.

Ophelia panted and whimpered in front of him, her bottom swaying, back arching in a criminally tempting manner.

She turned to look over her shoulder and Silas feared he would come in his trousers at the haze of desire and anticipation he saw in her eyes.

She reached behind her and under her skirts to squeeze one of his hands currently tracing lazy circles on her downy thigh.

“I want—” he began. “Need to see you, love.”

Watcing him over her shoulder, she nodded eagerly. “I wish you would,” she whispered and pushed backward against his hands.

His mind scrambled and the hysteria threatened again, so he flexed his palms against Ophelia’s warm skin and felt her muscular thighs tense as she widened their stance.

Silas pushed her skirts up to her waist, making sure they didn’t crowd her, and then he wanted to pinch himself because he was rewarded with the most lust-addling image he could have ever conjured.

Demure pantaloons, rucked up her legs, exposing stockings straining at the clasp of her garters, the garters themselves pulled snug against the curve of her arse, the split in the pantaloons revealing the high, hard moons of her backside and between them, a slice of her dark curls and wet sex.

“Silas?” Her voice wavered between desire and uncertainty and he answered quickly.

“Yes, love, I’m here.” He ran a finger over the curve of one buttock, gentle, reverent. “Just cannot think for your beauty at the moment...”

She laughed, low and throaty, and he wanted to hear it every day for the rest of his life.

He thought about all the things he had always considered important; duty, land, family, and knew he would burn them all to the ground to keep this woman.

He leaned forward to kiss her behind the ear, ran his tongue around the tip of the soft lobe.

“My glorious, glorious, Fee. I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t touch you ... May I?”

She nodded, and he felt her back under his chest, rising and falling with shuddering breaths.

Sitting back on his heels again, he swept a hand up the back of her thigh, sliding his fingers along the slit of her drawers, tracing the curve of her bottom, feeling a shiver of anticipation rise across her skin.

“Please,” Ophelia mumbled, dropping her head between her outstretched arms. “Please.”

Grasping the curve of her hip, Silas ran a finger along the seam of her vulva, the lips slippery and soft, so bloody soft. Ophelia’s back sagged and he tightened his grip on her hip to hold her. Front to back, he ran one, then two fingers along her sex, slowly pressing against her hot flesh.

“Talk to me, Fee,” he gasped, his cock impossibly hard at Ophelia’s writhing and gasping. “I want to hear your voice, love.”

“That’s good,” she ground out. “Your fingers, it feels so good.”

And then she was pushing back into his hand so that his fingers parted her lips and on the next swipe he sank a finger inside her.

Just like the previous times, it was nothing he could ever describe and his mind reeled.

He never wanted to not be surrounded by Ophelia, the wet heat of her body, her hoarse cry wavering in the quiet of the garden.

However she imagined their future, he wanted to be there beside her when she made her mark on the world, celebrating her every chance he had.