Proof by Seduction (Carhart #1)

There was no hesitation in his kiss, nor shyness in the way he moved against her. His hands slipped behind her neck, and the light fuzz of hair on his chest brushed her bare br**sts. Her mouth opened under his. His hands trailed down her shoulders, touched the sides of her body confidently. She shivered in response, her body coming to life. He kissed her neck.

Jenny wished she could be so sure. But this was the last time he would touch her. The last time she would touch him. Lord Blakely. Gareth. Whatever he could have become had her life started differently, now was all she had of him: this one last time as a lover.

There were risks.

Jenny shut her eyes and her lips and thought about them. Risks? She might become pregnant. But she had four hundred pounds in the bank, an almost unshakable bulwark against such a future. The money, if carefully shepherded, would see her through any such eventuality.

And she’d have a child. Someone to care for, to raise. A child that she would never abandon, no matter what the world thought.

Risks? She would have Gareth again.

It was for precisely those risks that she wanted him now. She might never experience this kind of intimacy again. And she wanted this heated connection quite desperately.

Jenny shut her eyes and gave herself up to sensation. His touch burned her skin. He found a breast and licked the tip. Her nipple pebbled under his touch and a hot thrill washed over her.

She wished there were some way to capture these feelings, as if they could be reduced to scented oil. Attar of lovemaking. That way, she could dole it out, spoonful by precious spoonful, in the years to come. If she could bottle this moment—the feel of his body covering hers, the sweet taste of his lips, the growing heat that threatened to devour warm comfort and replace it with fierce desire—she would never be discontent again.

He pulled away. Jenny opened her eyes. He had hefted himself up on his forearms. His eyes were narrowed. With the golden light of the sun shining on him, she could see his naked body. A fuzz of tawny hair, a shade lighter than the hair on his head, covered his chest. His muscles were lean and corded, strong. Farther down, she caught a glimpse of his erect member, nestled in a cloud of darker hair. Vision rounded out the sensations he’d imprinted on her last night.

“Jenny,” he said quietly. “Be so good as to stay with me when I kiss you.”

The sound of his voice, dark and rumbling, startled her.

“I’m here.” But she wasn’t. She was pouring this moment into that bottle.

“Then touch me back. Don’t lie there with your eyes squeezed shut. If I had wanted a quiescent china doll, I would have found some obedient lord’s daughter years ago.”

Jenny put her hands on his shoulders.

There were graver risks than the possibility of pregnancy. Risks that no amount of money could guard against. A quiescent china doll did not put her heart on the table. The way he held her, the way he traced her limbs, made her feel as if she were precious. The most dangerous feeling of them all.

Whatever had transpired between the two of them over the last weeks, it had been powerful. At times, it had hurt. It had taken one night, starting with his heartfelt apology, and ending with heartrending lovemaking, to transmute the power of those weeks into a soft golden glow.

But whatever Jenny’s spirit felt, her mind knew precisely how foolish the idea was. Love with Lord Blakely? He would crush her heart. There was nothing for her here but abandonment.

Her fingers clenched against his shoulder blades. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“Do I not?” He threaded his hands gently around her neck. “I’m asking you to make love with me.”

That word again. She opened her eyes. “Gareth,” she whispered. “Please. Don’t. This is hard enough—”

She stopped speaking as his gaze pierced her. Incredible. Last night had seemed so intimate. And yet it had been so dark that she had not been able to see anything other than flashes of light, reflecting off the surface of his skin. Now she could look into his eyes. They were golden-brown. They were not cutting or dismissive. And even though she could see the desire smolder inside them, there was something else in them that turned her belly to liquid.

And like that, the answer came to her. If this was all she could have—this brief slice of time with him—she didn’t want any regrets. Years from now, she wanted to remember that she’d stolen every scrap of pleasure she could from this moment. She wanted to fill the biggest bottle with as much of him as she could.

She smiled at him now. And wonder of wonder, he responded, his eyes glowing with satisfaction, an answering smile on his lips.

“Better,” he said. “When you do that, I feel almost human.”

He spread her legs with his own. She had one moment to feel the blunt head of his member against her before he slid inside her. Sore places stretched. Jenny exhaled. Their bodies fit together. He twitched, hard and thick inside her.

“Even better.” His voice was hoarse.