Page 40 of The Earl That Got Away (Sirens in Silk #2)

“Really?” She looked over to where Hawk and Catherine Anne sat straight-backed in their boat, their hands wrapped around their oars.

Both wore such serious expressions one would think they were competing to be world champions.

Naila sighed. If Catherine Anne’s rowing was faulty, Naila could only imagine how bad hers was.

Her heart drummed hard as they waited for Charles’s father, Lord Broughton, to shoot the starting gun.

A bang sounded and they were off. True to his word, Heresford was a powerful rower.

Naila’s main task was to keep up with his back-and-forth motion in order not to slow them down.

The boat glided through the water, swift and smooth.

Spectators cheered them on, some running alongside on the water’s edge.

“Go, Naila, go!”

“That’s it, Miss Darwish!”

She heard Kareem and Hind yelling her name, encouraging her. She focused on her task, keeping up with Heresford, her pulse blasting in her ears, her muscles beginning to burn from the effort. Before long, she was running out of energy.

“Not much farther now!” Heresford called out from behind her.

In her peripheral vision, she could make out that Hawk’s boat was still beside them. A blast of renewed energy flowed through her and she kept powering through even though her muscles were on fire.

They came across the finish line. Out of breath, her muscles trembling, Naila released the oars and looked around. She realized that Hawk and Catherine Anne had won the race, with her and Heresford coming in second.

Kareem and Hind came over as she exited the boat. She practically clung to Kareem’s arm because her legs were rubbery from exertion. She sat as someone bought her a glass of lemonade, which she gratefully drank.

Heresford came over to check on her. “Bravo, Miss Darwish. Well done!”

“But we didn’t win,” she said glumly.

“It was a tight race. We couldn’t have expected a better result given Miss Turner’s rowing skill.” He gazed in the direction of Hawk and Catherine Anne, who were being awarded first place by their host, Lord Broughton. “She is quite accomplished. Miss Turner is a pleasure to watch on the water.”

Naila gulped her lemonade to keep from saying anything unkind about Catherine Anne, who did not deserve to be regarded unkindly.

Lightning crackled above. Naila looked up to see formidable gray clouds hanging low from the sky. She’d been so engrossed in the race she hadn’t realized that the weather had turned. Lord Broughton’s staff began lugging the boats from the water and carrying them off.

“Where will they take the boats?” she asked Heresford.

He pointed to a building up the hill. “That’s the boathouse, I believe.”

“You were splendid,” Kareem said after Heresford wandered over to congratulate Hawk and Catherine Anne.

“I was so proud of you!” Hind exclaimed. “You almost won.”

Kareem peered up at the sky. “We should go in. It’s about to rain.”

“You two go on,” Naila said. “I’m just going to sit here for a moment to catch my breath.”

“Are you certain?” Kareem asked.

“You don’t want to be caught in the rain,” Hind said worriedly.

“I won’t be,” she assured them. “I’ll be along in a moment.”

After they left her, Naila pretended not to watch Hawk and Catherine Anne accept congratulations all around.

She should go and congratulate them herself but at the moment she did not think her legs could carry her.

As more and more guests, including Hawk and Catherine Anne, headed indoors, Naila remained seated, absorbing the meaning of that afternoon’s events.

Hawk was truly lost to her. He and Catherine Anne had obviously hit it off. It was probably only a matter of time before they announced their engagement. She blinked back tears as the pain of her loss slammed through her. She was truly alone.

She pushed to her feet, but could not bear the thought of rejoining the other guests and watching Hawk and Catherine Anne grow ever closer. She stepped on something in the grass and saw that it was an oar. It must have dropped off one of the boats as the staff carried them to the boathouse.

The boathouse sounded like the perfect place to be alone and get herself together before rejoining the others. She brushed away the tears that spilled onto her cheeks.

Picking up the oar, she headed toward the boathouse. No one could see her cry. How would she explain it? She stepped inside the dimly lit space, where boats were lined up on shelves, one atop the other.

“I was waiting for you to come and congratulate me and Miss Turner on our victory.” Hawk’s deep, amusement-tinged voice rumbled through her.

She dropped the oar. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you. You were magnificent out there.”

She turned to face him, hoping the light was dim enough so that he couldn’t tell she was upset. “We lost.”

“But you stayed with Catherine Anne and me until the end. No other pair in the competition accomplished that.”

She forced herself to meet his gaze even though it hurt to look at him. His hair was wind-blown and rumpled; a ghost of a smile touched his lips.

“I can barely feel my legs. Who knows if I’ll be able to walk tomorrow.” Outside, the sky rumbled. “What are you doing in here?”

“I saw you walking toward the boathouse. You seemed upset.”

“I came to return an oar that I found on the lawn. As you can see, I am fine.” She lifted her chin. “You should return to the party.”

Concern stamped his face. “Have you been crying?”

She backed away. “Of course not.”

“Naila?” He stepped closer. “What is wrong? Did something happen?”

She shook her head, refusing to look at him. “You should return to your Miss Turner. She is surely missing you.”

“She is not my Miss Turner.”

“Isn’t she? You two obviously make a great team.”

“Do you think so?”

“I still would prefer that she marry an impoverished lord and save a significant house. But, obviously, that isn’t up to me.”

She felt his intense gaze. “Isn’t it though?”

Outside a crackling sound was followed by the pitter-patter of raindrops on the boathouse roof. They stared at each other and Naila was suddenly so hot she felt in danger of catching on fire.

“Catherine Anne is obviously your type.”

He advanced on her. “What type is that?”

She backed up. “Tall. Thin. Athletic.”

“That is not my type.” His voice was a raspy rumble. “I prefer my woman round and soft, with generous curves in all of the right places.”

“Oh?” She could barely breathe. Her stays were entirely too tight.

“A woman who feels plush and warm and inviting. A woman I can lose myself in.”

She exhaled. “Oh.”

“Naila,” he whispered. “Why were you crying?”

She bit her lip and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I am happy for you and Miss Turner. Truly I am. You deserve to be happy.”

His eyes flickered to her mouth. “Catherine Anne is a fine person. But no woman compares to you. I enjoy talking to you more than anyone else on the planet.” He was so close now that she felt his warm breath on her cheek. “And, by the way, your body is bliss.”

They were both perspiring from exerting themselves on the water. “So is yours.”

He grabbed her then, urgently and without restraint, and she went willingly, gratefully. He kissed her hard, sucking her bottom lip, nibbling on her upper lip. He tore off the scarf at her neck and sucked the sensitive flesh there. “Tell me to stop if you don’t want this.”

She tilted her head to give him better access to her nape. “I do,” she said desperately, clutching him closer to her. “I want you.”

He groaned and his hands went to her jacket, which she urgently shrugged out of with his help.

He unbuttoned the high-collared white shirt she wore beneath it.

She worked on unfastening her skirt and allowed it to drop to the ground.

Thank goodness she was wearing sporting clothes so she wasn’t encumbered by a bustle.

She stood before him in just her combinations, a thin camisole with attached knee-length drawers worn beneath a confining corset.

By cinching in her waist, the stays emphasized her generous bosom and round hips.

“Look at that body,” he said reverentially, unfastening her corset one hook at a time.

“You are a goddess.” With each hook that he undid, she breathed a little easier.

The corset fell away and she was left wearing only her undergarments, which left little to the imagination.

His hand went to her breast, squeezing and massaging.

“Since you, I’ve never truly looked at another woman.” He sucked her nipple through the frothy fabric. She clutched his head to her breast. His other hand went to the place between her legs, where her drawers were not sewn at the crotch.

They groaned in unison when he touched her intimate flesh and his fingers were immediately coated with her dampness.

“You’re very ready,” he said against her breast.

“For you? Always,” she half-cried, so full of need for him that she could barely stand it.

His fingers played with the delicate nub that seemed to have a million different nerve endings. And the tension ratcheted up in her. He fell to his knees and hiked her leg over his shoulder and put his tongue where is fingers had been.

“Oh!” she cried out, the sound guttural because she could not have formed a coherent word even if her life depended on it.

He sucked at her and flicked his tongue hard and flat against the sensitive point between her legs. She lost all reason. She could think of nothing but wanting more. More. Until the tension reached a breaking point and bliss rippled through her and her body throbbed with relief.

He rose to his full height, tearing off his jacket. He reached for his trousers and she helped him free his member. She took it against her palm.

“Harder if you please,” he rasped. “Stroke firmly.”

“I do please.” She did as he instructed, feeling the power of having this man in the palm of her hand.

He was thick and hard, steel encased in silk.

Instinctively, she dropped to her knees to kiss it.

He made a sound deep in his throat. She rubbed her lips against the side of his shaft, pressing firm kisses up and down the length of him. “Tell me what to do.”

“In your mouth,” he rasped. “If... you want—”

“I want,” she said before closing her lips around him.

“Deeper,” he gasped. “If you’d like.”

“I’d like.” She took him as deep as she could manage without gagging. His hand was on her head and she stared up at him as she sucked on him.

“Enough,” he said, pulling her to her feet.

“Was I doing it wrong?”

“No, you were doing it too well. I want to be inside you.”

“I want that, too.” She’d dreamed of this moment for nine years. She wanted to make him hers. Forever.

Hawk was her naseeb . The mate that fate and destiny meant for her. She had no doubt. She wasn’t a naive little girl anymore. She knew they had something she could never hope to find with anyone else.

“Are you certain, Naila?” he asked. “This time there can be no turning back.”

“I don’t want to turn back.” She knelt on the ground and lay back. “I want it all with you. Only you.”

He stared down at her. “Open your legs for me. I want to see you.”

She opened her legs so he could look his fill. His eyes blazed. “You are mine now.”

“I am,” she said. “And you are mine.”

He knelt between her legs.

“Are you going to do more than look?” she finally asked.

He was on her so fast that she could not help but laugh. And then he was entering her and she stopped laughing. Instead, tears leaked from her eyes. Joy and need filled her in equal measure. She was finally where she was always meant to be, joined with Hawk. With Basil.

“My love,” she sighed.

He stroked in and out of her with firm measured strokes.

“Move with me, sweetheart,” he urged, helping her find her rhythm.

And then her hips were rising up to meet his thrusts and she felt him so deep inside her that relief poured through her.

She felt her climax coming again, the pressure and the promise of bliss and blessed relief.

Outside a storm raged, the rain pounding so hard on the roof that Naila did not hear herself cry out even though she knew that she did.