The Scoundrel and the Debutante (The Cabot Sisters #3)

Roan suddenly straightened and lifted her up, sliding his hands under her hips and guiding her, so that his cock was pressed against her entrance. She was slick; she could feel her body responding and naturally opening to him. He kissed her as he slipped his fingers into that heat, his thumb stroking the core of her pleasure, making her gasp with delirious pleasure.

“I can’t bear it another moment,” he said through the grit of his teeth, and pressed against her. He kissed her tenderly as he began to work his way inside of her, pushing a little, withdrawing a little, and again. Prudence began to relax. She was slipping into a dreamlike state, amazed at how their bodies fit together, of how pleasurable it was in spite of the tightness, and the prick of pain as he pushed past her maidenhead. She let her head drift back as he pushed deeper, moving carefully at first, taking her deeper into the pool of desire and submerging her in the feel of his body, of this carnal act, of the swirl of emotions riding up in her. His strokes lengthened, and with one arm, he anchored her to him, watching her as he moved, as if it were vital that he see her.

With every stroke he reached deeper and faster. Prudence moaned, helpless as Roan began to stroke her in rhythm to his body moving inside her. Her body began to tighten around him, sweeping her away along its wave. With a whimper of pleasurable defeat, she dropped her head to his shoulder and shuddered with her release.

Her climax was met with his more powerful one—with a strangled sob of ecstasy, he removed himself entirely from her, releasing into the lake as he gathered her up in his arms. He was gasping for air, his hold on her was tight, his kisses to her cheek and her neck soft.

Her legs slid from his waist. The water around them began to settle. He braced his palms on either side of her head and softly, carefully, kissed her forehead, the bridge of her nose, her mouth.

Prudence was sore. She was breathless. And she was intoxicated. She’d never imagined it like this, and she would be grateful to Roan Matheson for the rest of her life for having shown her this part of life. She would love him for this, and she would never regret the past twenty-four hours. Not for a single moment.

“Are you all right?”

She nodded and smiled at him. She wrapped one arm around his neck and kissed his cheek. “You’ve managed to astound me twice now, Mr. Matheson.”

He smiled, too, but it was an uncertain one. He continued to hold her, bouncing around a bit in the lake, laughing at what the fish must think of them. He teased her, caressed her, his gaze wandering from her ear to her nose, to her neck and her shoulder, his smile tender.

After a while he said, “We should remove ourselves from this lovely lake before we are discovered.”

Prudence nodded, but she would be perfectly happy to remain here. She pictured a cottage on this small lake. Roan would walk out every morning to fish, and she would cook biscuits or some such—Cook had shown her once; maybe she could remember it. At night, he would read to her while she knitted socks for him. And then they would retire to their little bedroom with the windows open to the stars, and he would do this to her, over and over again.

That was the dream she would carry with her for the rest of her days. She would not think of the truth when she indulged in her daydreaming, or the heartache she would feel when it came time for him to go, or the ache she would feel every time she thought of him. She would remember only these moments.





CHAPTER TEN

PRUDENCE MUTTERED UNDER her breath as she dug through her bag, searching for something that might improve the look of her gown. When at last she did emerge from the trees, she had put a wrap to good use, tying it around her bodice to hide the worst of the dirt. She had also put her hair up rather artfully with the few pins she had, but without benefit of help or a mirror, her coif was askew.

“Well?” she asked, casting her arms out and turning around. “What do you think?”

He thought that with her sparkling hazel eyes and sensual smile, she was beautiful. Perhaps even more beautiful than the day he’d first laid eyes on her. “I’ve never seen anyone lovelier.”

Prudence laughed. She looked down to smooth the folds of her skirts.

Roan wisely omitted any commentary about her ruined gown or mention that her coif was hanging a little strangely. “Shall we carry on?”

He’d become uncharacteristically nervous as he’d waited for her to make herself presentable. He’d looked out over that small lake, realizing how exposed they’d been. What if someone had happened upon them? But he’d been so caught up in the moment, so bewitched by the water nymph swimming around in that thin cotton chemise, inviting him in, that he’d lost himself in the moment. The only trouble was that he had yet to find himself. He was becoming increasingly besotted with that golden-haired imp.