Page 20 of Sir Hugo Seeks a Wife (Cinderellas of Mayfair #1)

Don’t make me wait.

You make me burn.

This night is fate.

How deep I yearn.

Athene was waiting in the armchair, when Hugo knocked on the door from the dressing room where he’d retreated after dinner.

An excellent dinner that she hadn’t tasted a bite of.

Mrs. Treddle’s roast mutton had been wasted on her.

It was impossible to think of anything beyond what would happen tonight.

“Come in.” Her throat was so tight that the invitation emerged as a croak.

Even so, Hugo must have heard, because he opened the door. He juggled two glasses and a bottle of claret. They’d finished the champagne after dinner.

She rose to help him, only registering the ostentatious emerald green dressing gown, once the glasses were safe on top of a carved chest. “Goodness me, I feel distinctly underdressed.”

When she’d packed to go away with him, she’d rued how dreary her wardrobe was. Gray, brown or black dresses that helped her fade into the background. Practical white undergarments. A shabby white wrap that she wore now over a plain flannel nightdress.

Hugo smiled and set the bottle down near the glasses. “You’re beautiful whatever you wear.”

She was grateful that he didn’t say anything about taking her clothes off, although she’d given him an opening.

He’d been careful with her all evening. At dinner, they’d avoided controversial topics.

He’d asked her about working at the shop and she’d heard about his visit to London.

While all the time, a completely different conversation flowed beneath the small talk.

I want you.

I want you, too.

You make me burn.

I can’t live without you.

She twined her hands together, unable to keep them still. While she appreciated his consideration, every second heightened her suspense, until she was near jumping out of her skin. The attraction building between them was as taut as a violin string.

“Are we drinking more wine?” She’d had more than her share of the champagne, hoping that it might calm her nerves. It hadn’t.

He shrugged. “If you like. We can sit and talk for a while by the fire.”

“Talk!” she said as if the word was a curse.

He bestowed one of his sweet smiles on her, the ones that dissolved her into a puddle of treacle. “I’d hate you to think I’m only interested in your superlative body.”

Despite her agitation, she couldn’t help smiling back. “You haven’t seen it yet. You might be disappointed.”

“Never.” He approached her. “I love your hair.”

She’d unbound it when she’d undressed. “Thank you.”

He lifted one black lock to let it drift through his fingers. “I’ve imagined what it looks like loose. My fantasies didn’t do you justice.”

She couldn’t resist moving closer. How she wished he’d take her into his arms. She never felt afraid when he held her. “Hugo…”

“Shall we go to bed, my darling?”

“I don’t know why I’m so fidgety.” She swallowed to moisten her parched throat. “I’ve done this before.”

As so often, he was quick to see the vulnerability beneath her pretense at sophistication. “I’ll take care. Trust me.”

“I do.” Nonetheless her hands trembled, as she laid them flat on the cool silk covering his chest. He released a broken breath at the contact, but his arms remained at his sides.

Touching him helped. It always did. She hefted in a shuddering breath that stopped the butterflies in her stomach fluttering quite so high.

She’d always been aware of his height and strength.

He’d dwarfed her cramped office in Bond Street.

Right now, he seemed to tower over her in a way that he never had before.

His size didn’t daunt her. It made her feel protected.

For so long, she’d had to rely on herself alone.

Knowing that Hugo offered her a shield against the world was liberating.

Her anxious gaze raked his sculpted features, finding desire and concern and strain. Under her hands, he vibrated with tension. He was more on edge than he tried to appear.

“I thought you might sweep me away in a rush of passion.” She slid her palms over the bulge of his pectorals, bunching the silk. Beneath the material, his skin was warm. The butterflies settled.

“Is that what you want?”

She thought about it. “I’m not sure.”

“You’re deuced skittish.” He stroked the hair back from her face. “I don’t want to frighten you away.”

The light touch made her tremble. “So you’re leaving everything to me?”

“Not everything.” Humor turned his blue eyes brilliant. “But I’ll let you set the pace. At least until I can’t bear it anymore.”

Her lips quirked. “Such a hero.”

“I’d like to be your hero.”

“You are,” she said, before remembering that declarations were unwise.

Hugo had the power to shred her soul in a way that vain, shallow George never had, and somehow she’d need to continue on without him, once the affair was over.

That meant doing her best to protect herself.

But how could she do that, when he stared at her as if she were the culmination of all his dreams and he couldn’t believe his luck in finding her?

“Don’t look at me like that,” she murmured, trailing her hands down his ribs and feeling his chest move as he inhaled.

“I can’t help it.”

This close, she realized that he was on the brink of bursting into flame. Her nostrils filled with male heat, tinged with cedar soap. There was something primitive and exciting in smelling how much he wanted her. Beneath her caress, his heart thundered. “You look—”

“As though I’m lost in your spell?”

“Yes,” she whispered, stroking upward again. It was such a luxury to touch him like this. From their first encounter, she’d wanted to explore his superb body. Now there was nobody to see and nobody to interrupt them.

He breathed in great audible gusts. “But I am.”

So am I.

Athene spread the vee of his robe to reveal more of his chest. It was broad and firm and scattered with gilt hair that caught the light.

This time she touched him skin on skin. Heat blasted her, concentrated in the pit of her stomach, made her drunk on his nearness.

Her lips parted, as she struggled to drag air into empty lungs. He literally took her breath away.

Relishing the delicious friction against her palms, she combed her hands through his chest hair.

Desperate to taste him, she skimmed her lips along his breastbone.

His skin held a tinge of salt. She kissed a line across to one of his nipples.

He bit back a groan, as she scraped her teeth over the flat bronze disk.

His alluring scent was richer, now that she was so close. She nuzzled, drawing that essence deep inside her. He smelled like everything good in the world. Rain. Horses. Mown grass.

Wanting more, Athene reached to untie the sash securing the extravagant robe. When it parted to reveal his body, her gaze dropped to his dick, rising eager and powerful from a nest of dark gold curls. “My goodness, you’re big all over,” she said, impressed. “May I touch you?”

“God, yes.” His hands fisted at his sides.

“Wondering what you look like naked has tortured me.”

“Now you know, lass.”

“Beautiful.” She shaped tentative fingers around that rock-hard column of flesh. It was like holding the secret of life in her hand. He was searingly hot, and she felt his longing to be inside her.

He tilted his hips forward to encourage her. “Men aren’t beautiful.”

“You are.” She inched up toward where the head glistened with his burgeoning excitement. With a long, heartfelt groan, he swelled in her grip.

When she tightened her clasp, he caught her hand. “Stop.”

Surprised, she gave up watching what she was doing and stared into his face. “Don’t you like it?”

George had. George had taught her how to do this. She’d assumed that it would please Hugo as well.

He didn’t look pleased. He looked on the brink of shattering. “Too much.”

“Ah.” He didn’t want to spill in her hand.

When she stepped back, he heaved a ragged sigh of relief. “Later you can touch me as much as you want.”

“I look forward to that.” Desire had him in its unshakable grip. Her, too. It was past time to speed things along. With unsteady hands, she tugged off her wrap and caught the hem of her nightdress. After she hauled it over her head, she dropped it to the floor.

His gaze devoured her as she stood naked in front of him for the first time. His attention lingered on every detail, made her self-conscious. She fought the urge to snatch her nightdress back. “By all that’s holy, you’re so lovely.”

The awe in his voice made her shake. “It’s silly to feel shy,” she muttered, avoiding his eyes.

“It’s our first time.” His smile was indulgent. “A few nerves are de rigueur.”

His use of the society phrase in such a private setting made her smile. Her crippling awkwardness ebbed. “You know, you could get rid of your dressing gown now.”

His swift obedience betrayed his rising need. At the sight of his unclothed body, every drop of moisture evaporated from her mouth. What a breathtaking figure of a man he was. Large and powerful, and perfectly proportioned.

“Oh, Hugo…”

“Stuck for words, lass?”

“And you say you’re not beautiful.”

Wonder flooded Hugo’s face, and he lunged forward and kissed her at last, deep and hungry.

She plastered herself against that superb form and responded with uninhibited surrender.

By the time he raised his head, she was itching for more than kisses.

She took his hand to lead him toward the bed. “It’s time.”

“Not yet.”

As she lay back on the mattress, Athene sent him a questioning glance. “Not yet?”

She stretched out upon the crisp sheets. Mrs. Treddle must store her linen with sprigs of lavender. The fresh, clean scent rose around her as she sank into the bedding. It seemed incongruously wholesome, given what was about to happen.

“You aren’t ready.” He climbed over her, supporting his weight on his arms and tangling his legs with hers.