“Come here.” His voice was low and husky.
She took a step forward, then paused. “What will you do?”
“Not all I want to do.” Though certainly every time he was with her, it became harder and harder to keep his virginity intact. “But I’m certain I can think of something you’ll enjoy.”
“More nefarious activities?”
He smiled. “If you’ll indulge me.”
She did, moving close enough that he could wrap a hand around her waist and pull her hard against him. She gasped, and he took her mouth, swallowing the sound and the moan that followed. He took his time with her mouth again, exploring it and allowing her a turn to explore him, and then he broke the kiss and turned her around, lowering his mouth to kiss her neck. When he looked up, her eyes met his in the cheval glass across the room.
“You look like a medieval warrior.”
He liked the image. And he liked the reflection in the mirror even more. “And you are my prize?”
“I’m no man’s prize.”
“True enough. Then be my partner in this.”
Her eyes widened. “How?”
“I’ll show you, but first it has been too long since I’ve seen your perfect breasts. I can’t wait any longer.” His fingers reached for the first neatly tied pink bow.
Her hand covered his, and Neil paused. He wanted her. He wanted more with her than he’d ever wanted with any woman. With Julia, he dared to think of a future. He wanted her as his wife, the mother of his children, his partner through the good and the bad. But she had every reason to stop this now. He’d made her no promises, and she didn’t seem to want or need them from any man. She didn’t even need him, though he’d tried hard enough to make her believe she did—as he’d always tried to make anyone believe that he, who had always been the illegitimate one, the one who didn’t belong, was worthwhile and valuable.
Neil looked down at her hand. He could accept defeat. He’d lost eighteen men, proving to all the world that he was a failure and as unworthy as his status of bastard implied.
Neil looked up and met her gaze.
“Allow me,” she said.
His heart all but stopped. His breath caught in his throat and his hand dropped away. He could not seem to tear his gaze from her long, graceful fingers as they tugged at the ribbon to loosen it.
A small expanse of flesh, the creamy swell of her breast, was exposed. It was the most tantalizing image Neil had ever seen.
“Shall I continue?” she asked.
She wanted this. She wanted to be with him. He had to clear his throat to speak through the lump. “Please,” he said.
Her hand reached for another ribbon and she gave it a careless tug. The action allowed him to see more of the curve of her breast, more of the valley in between.
“One more,” she whispered.
Thank God or he would have to sink to his knees. He might anyway. She reached for the last bow, her fingers toying with the loops of pink satin. Finally, she caught an end and pulled. The ribbon seemed to hold fast for an eternity as the loop pulled through the knot. Neil’s hand clenched as he itched to tug it free and push the night rail from her body. His fingers dug into his palm as the loop finally slipped free and the bodice parted.
And caught on the hard points of her nipples.
Neil’s breath hitched. How the devil was he supposed to withstand this sort of torment? He needed a drink. He needed to sit down. He needed to touch her.
Neil sank to his knees before her. She blinked and gave a surprised laugh. “What are you doing?”
He put his hands on her waist and pulled her closer. His mouth was at the soft expanse of her abdomen. “Kissing you,” he answered her.
“From there?”
“Right here.” He pressed his lips on the skin of her abdomen, and she drew in a sharp breath. He kissed her again slightly to the left and then again on the other side. “And right here.”
“Yes,” she whispered. “But I think you have left some terrain unmapped.”
“Have I?” He would kiss every inch of her before the night was through. “Perhaps right here?” He kissed lower, just above her navel, where a knotted ribbon held the skirt of the night rail in place. He placed his mouth on the ribbon and kissed her. “Or here?”
“Neil,” she murmured and swayed. He held her steady and looked up at her.
“Where else have I missed?”
Her eyes seemed to grow impossibly darker, and her mouth opened with indecision. And then her lips set in a familiar determined line. “Here,” she said. Her hands inched over the ribbons of the bodice and she slowly drew it open, revealing her full breasts with their dark-pink crowns. The nipples jutted proudly, and his cock jerked at the sight.
But he would take this slowly, savor her and give her pleasure. His mouth brushed up her abdomen, and she trembled as his lips slid over her warm skin. Finally, he reached the soft underside of her breast, and he ran his tongue over the skin, watching it pebble and hearing her breath come in gasps as her fingers bit into his shoulders. He traced the curve of her breast, up one side, over, and down the other. He moved inward, and her nipple hardened in anticipation. He wanted that hard point in his mouth, on his tongue, lightly between his teeth, but he deprived them both and worshipped her other breast as he had the first.
Her head had fallen back at his ministrations, and she trembled from head to toe. Her breath came in short pants, making her chest rise and fall in a motion that made him groan. And then finally, as he nuzzled between those perfect breasts, she grabbed his cheeks and pulled his face back so she could look down at him.
“Your mouth,” she said. “I need it here.” She touched one nipple, her pale finger sliding over the swollen peak, and Neil almost lost control. With a growl, he took her breast in one hand and captured her nipple with his mouth. He slid the hard point inside, teasing it with his tongue and sucking lightly until she moaned and arched. He sucked harder then, his hand holding her heavy flesh while the fingers of his free hand teased and rubbed at the untended nipple.
She moaned again, her hands thrusting into his hair to hold him to her. “Yes, like that,” she said on a half sob. “Exactly like that.”
He allowed her to move his head to the other breast, and when he licked that nipple, she shuddered. She knew what she wanted now, and as he served her, she slid her hands out of her hair and to the ribbon on her skirt. With one flick, it was loose, and the fabric fell away.
Her coppery curls brushed against his chest, and he caught the faint scent of woman and arousal. He slid one hand over her belly, then her bottom, so plump and smooth, and then over a hip and between her legs. She was wet and warm, and she bucked when he brushed over her.
“Please,” she said.
He slid two fingers into that slick heat, licking her nipple in a motion that mimicked his hands. She tightened around his fingers, only releasing him when he drew out and swiped moisture over her hidden nub.
“Neil,” she moaned.
His fingers moved inside her again, gently and deeply, sliding in and out as his palm pressed against her center of pleasure. She ground against him, her hips moving in an instinctual rhythm. She was close to climax. One glance at her flushed face told him that much. He slid out of her, his fingers wet and the scent of her all around him. Without thinking, he lowered himself, placing his lips against her curls. God, her scent was like sweet wine. He was drunk on her arousal and the heat of her.
“Neil,” she said again, her voice filled with more urgency. He slid his mouth lower, parting her lips with his tongue, sliding over her bud and making her cry loudly, and then lapping at her wetness.
He loved the taste of her even more than her scent. He would die remembering her sweetness on his tongue. Her hips moved and her cries grew more frantic. His fingers parted her, exposing her small, swollen bud. Red and all but throbbing, he placed the tip of his tongue on it.