Page 40 of Unforeseen Affairs (The Sedleys #6)

“Do what?” he asked pensively, his mouth dry. All he wanted was to tup this woman, to make her his wife, and to worship her if she’d let him. Was that too much to ask?

“Remove your shirt.”

She pushed herself up in the tub. Rivulets of water streamed over her breasts; Colin could see her skin prickling against the cool air.

He stood as quickly as if ordered by a training officer and tore off the garment as though it offended him.

“Now your undervest.”

He tugged that off as well, especially glad to be rid of it—it had been soggy for most of the day.

She sighed happily as she stared at his chest. And then her hands were on her breasts—teasing them, kneading them, pressing them together as if offering them up to him. He stepped forward, his head in a whirl, and reached out—

She smacked his hand away, tutting.

“You’re getting far too ahead of yourself. Do you not want me to answer?”

Taken aback at her chastisement, Colin set his jaw and nodded, almost imperceptibly.

“Good,” she said, leaning back against the edge of the tub.

She fondled one of her nipples; it was a lovely deep blush color, and looked to be as hard as his cock.

“At any rate,” she said, pulling on the nipple and letting it go, watching it as it sprung back into place, “I daresay it was when you made that toast. You seemed a little fussy, but it was the stricken look in your eye after you saw me, after you said the words. To cunt and gunpowder , do you recall?”

Oh, but he did. He couldn’t help but look down to her cunt now, his view of the dark curls obfuscated by the suds on the surface of the water.

“It didn’t scandalize you,” he murmured, just now realizing it. Without thinking, his hand moved to the fall in his trousers.

“Not much does,” she acknowledged as she drew her shoulders back, fully exposing her chest above the water.

“It was our first meeting,” he said, feeling suddenly emotional.

She lifted a shoulder in dismissal, as if it were no matter.

“Aren’t you sore?” he asked, his gaze riveted to her breasts bobbing on the surface.

“Only slightly,” she purred.

Emboldened, he undid the flap and withdrew his cock, hard and proud. No, he would not risk hurting her, but there were other things that could be done.

She sat up quickly, sending forth a little wave that smacked against the rim of the tub and sprayed him with teasing drops of warm water.

He bent forward and plunged his hand into the water for a moment.

Now slick, he took himself in hand and began stroking, slowly but firmly.

Colin thought her eyes seemed somehow even bigger now, glassy and pupilless. Staring right at his cock.

His heart seized. He wanted to always be looked at this way. By her.

“Then what of marriage?” he said, an edge of frustration in his voice. “Why does the mere mention frighten you so?”

Her lips were parted now. Yearning twisted within him, tying itself in knots low in his middle—a clove hitch, then a figure of eight, perhaps a rolling hitch. All of it building to something that only one woman—this woman—could unravel.

“Frighten me?”

Colin could hardly stand it. She was so close. So wet .

“Touch yourself…” he rasped, abandoning his mission to press her further, to beg for her hand. “ Darling . Touch yourself again.”

“No.” Her brows drew together. “ You are to do as I say, Sir Colin .”

“Sir Colin?” he moaned, his hand still working, his breath now shallow and ragged. “You cannot call me that. I will not allow it, Charlotte. Not anymore.”

She moved to the edge of the tub now, lowering her face so it was mere inches from his cock. This time a large wave of water went over the edge, crashing onto the tops of his bare feet and making the floor dangerously slippery.

“Why not?” she asked, her eyes fixed upon his prick as he worked himself to climax.

Memories of lion hunters and gormless partygoers fawning over him flashed through his mind. Rooms full of false laughter and forced applause every time he found himself surrounded by those who would see him only for his accomplishments and fame.

He stopped stroking himself and reached down, his hand gentle but firm as he placed it upon her cheek. Her dark eyes looked up at him warily, half warning him off and half begging him to do whatever he might.

“Because I…” he began, then stopped to draw a long breath. “Because…”

He halted, suddenly afraid.

For he wanted to say far more than what had already been said, far more than he had known was in his heart.

Because… because why? His eyes had been so soft, so guileless when he’d begun to answer. His voice so assertive and steadfast. But then he swallowed his words and shut his eyes as if against an invisible pain. What pain? For what reason?

What had he meant to say, before catching himself?

Charlotte’s heart had been pounding from the minute he’d brought that chair into the steamy, tiled room. Desperate with wanting, but uncertain of how to accept him. What , she wondered for the hundredth time that day, might it be like, having a lover to service your every wish?

What might it be like, to have a handsome man think of you and only you? Calling you “darling” with his cock out, with you soaking wet and naked before him?

Something gave way within her, and she lowered her lashes and stared at the head of his prick, standing at attention just before her face.

Ever so gently she took him in hand. It felt wonderful—hot and rigid, the skin so soft, the heft so satisfying against her palm as she pushed it up and pulled it down, testing its range of movement.

He made a strangled groaning sound the instant it touched her lips, and she knew she’d wrested the reins away from him once more.

She teased it lightly, wondering at the taste.

She wouldn’t call it pleasant, but feeling it against her tongue sent a surge of pleasure through her, so much that she rose up on her knees, sending even more water onto the floor.

And then she took him fully, wondering how much she could stand. Not the entire length, she realized with disappointment. But then he took her fingers and guided them to the base of it, allowing her to hold with her hand what she could not fit in her mouth.

She slid back, gripping his girth with her fist.

“Not that…” Colin said with a groan, “not that tight. And… move your hand as well.”

She said nothing, only adjusted her hold and her movement in response. When he whispered her name as he dug his fingers into her hair, she presumed she’d followed his instruction correctly. It was curious, but thrilling, doing something so sordid with him. Making him beg for his pleasure.

Charlotte decided she liked it very much.

“Darling, I… I cannot go much further,” he eventually managed to say through panting breaths, while yanking on her hair as if that would stay his spend.

Her excitement nearly boiled over, but she resisted the urge to go faster. That morning he’d loved her slowly, relishing every thrust inside her until he’d reached his climax.

Now he yelled, grabbing both sides of her head with his thick forearms. When the sharp, tangy heat of his release filled her mouth she immediately swallowed, taking it all down as it came.

He belonged to her.

Alice Pearce will never have him , she thought victoriously, if uncharitably.

Alice Pearce would not be paid the same attentions, nor lavished with the same affection.

And then another, more startling realization came to her: Was it the thought of a lover that she dwelled upon?

Or of a husband? For she knew that if she did not marry him, someone else surely would.

Sir Colin Gearing was not a man to dally in matters of the heart.

Strangely, the thought did not fill her with dread as it once might have, were it of marriage to some nice and boring young man whom her father had dragged home to present to her.

No, this was Colin, her Colin, with his warm smile and curious eyes, his shared longing for horizons unknown.

His face yielding when she made a request. His arms wrapping around her when she was cold.

No, the thought of marrying him was not unwelcome at all. And the thought of possessing him, hoarding his handsome jawline and wide shoulders as greedily as a dragon, was not unwelcome either.

But what overwhelmed her in the moment was the urgency of wanting him, needing him to fill her now, to pet her and flatter her until she, too, found her release.

And although it seemed potentially ill-advised, as she was still raw and swollen from that morning, she wanted him to spill his seed inside her again, hang what might happen.

She was confident in her knowledge of her own body.

She wanted to feel it, hot and slick upon her lips, dripping out of her and down her legs.

He was caressing her now, knotting her wet locks with his hands as his cock twitched in her mouth, emptying the last remnants of his spend. She gently removed her mouth from him and placed a fond kiss onto the head as it slipped out.

And then she lowered herself down into the water, a selkie retreating from her human lover, her mind awhirl.

“Charlotte.”

He was calling her.

She turned about in the water. It was tepid now.

“Charlotte,” he tried again.

She heard him move about the room, and for a heart-rending moment she thought he might have left. But then he spoke again, his voice just as near, cooing in soft tones.

“Darling, please… stand up. Allow me to love you.”

Love . What did she know of love, truly? And yet her heart leaped at the sound of the word on his lips.

The aching between her legs pulsed, reminding her of her own gnawing desire. She stood, water pouring off of her body, her back still to him.

She found herself being wrapped in a large length of linen, a thin but effective brace against the cold air. And then, before she could turn around and step out of the tub, he lifted her into his arms and pulled her back against his chest.

She gasped in surprise; she did not know if she could look at him just now. Everything between them felt so new, so electrifying in its obviousness and necessity. How could she have never realized?

Could Sir Colin Gearing harbor a deeper affection for her than she had supposed? Could he want to marry her, obligation or not? Could he possibly… love her?

He placed a kiss at her temple, his breath hot upon her wet cheek.

“Charlotte…”

He would do anything for her, he’d said.

When she finally looked at him, his face was solemn, but his gentle green eyes—the deep green of majestic pines shading the spring buds below them—were full of hope.

Colin carried her out to the bed, placing one more kiss on her lips before depositing her atop it.

She felt her wet hair beneath the Turkish towel, and thought how terribly tangled it would be when they finally dressed to go to the theater.

But she pushed that from her mind for now—she would not allow Mr. Bass to occupy any of her thoughts in this moment.

Her stomach flipped when she felt Colin’s hands upon her legs, dangling bare over the edge of the bed. Slowly he tugged at her towel, rucking it up until she was once more exposed, cold and wet.

“You’re so lovely,” he murmured, hot and penitent against her inner thigh. “Exquisite. Perfect.”

Charlotte involuntarily jerked upward, and he took his chance, maneuvering deftly to her sex.

She cried out, and her hands scrambled for purchase, that she might hold herself down here, on earth. She dug her fingers into his broad, muscular shoulders. When his lips brushed between her legs, the sensation was at once both nearly unbearable and of the utmost importance.

“Please,” she gasped, bucking upward when his tongue flicked at that most sensitive spot. “I… I don’t…” she gasped, not sure what exactly she meant to say. “That is, I… I…”

“Could Charlotte Sedley be dumbstruck?” he chuckled as he ghosted over her with his lips, the vibrations driving her mad. “Could I have truly done that, I wonder? I must be the only man in the world to have achieved such a feat.”

“Colin,” she cried, confused and certain all at once.

And then his mouth was upon her in earnest—his lips closed around her, his tongue working, teasing.

Soon his fingers joined in, gentle and considerate as they slid softly inside her.

He set to his task expertly; Charlotte knew he was adept at almost everything that involved his hands—and in this case, his tongue as well—and soon she felt ready to crawl from her skin, to be born again as a creature concerned only with pleasure, with belonging…

Belonging to him. And him to her.

She moaned as she finished, writhing and arching up from the bed. The towel fell away, leaving her skin cold even as her center burned with hot, molten pleasure.

She felt a momentary disappointment when he removed his mouth, but before it could take hold his fingers took over, and he quickly brought her to climax once more. Her body quivered uncontrollably, and this time she called out without a care for who might hear.

“ Colin! ”

He climbed atop the bed, his eyes fierce. He breathed heavily, and for a moment he looked as if he might speak. But then he collapsed upon her, and gathered her in his arms.

This was far more than mere desire, she now knew. He had made her feel things she could never have imagined before.

And she knew he was the only one who could have.