She all but screamed, and he pulled back. “You’ll wake the children.”
She nodded and bit her lip, her hands sliding into his hair and clutching it almost painfully.
“Shh,” he said, blowing air where he had exposed her. She gave a choked sob. “Not a sound,” he said, putting his mouth on her and using his lips to tease her until her hips moved and she pressed hard against him. And then he touched her lightly, so lightly, with his tongue. Small, tortured sounds came from her lips and her hold on his hair became almost painful, but she did not scream as he flicked and swirled that tight, little bud.
She moved with his tongue, her bottom sliding against his hands as she tried to move closer, unashamed of her need and her reaction. Finally, she stiffened, and he took the bud in his mouth and sucked deeply. She shattered then, her entire body convulsing against him. How he wanted to free his cock and slide inside her. He slid his fingers inside her instead and wished her body clenched his cock and not merely his fingers.
Finally, she was spent, and he moved back to guide her to the bed. He expected her to fall onto it. He expected to join her, kissing her lips again, then her breasts, perhaps turning her over and running his teeth over her buttocks before he pushed her up on her knees and used his mouth and his fingers from that angle.
Instead, she caught herself on her elbows and looked up at him. The slant of her eyes and the tilt of her mouth were coolly seductive, and he paused in the process of joining her on the bed.
“What does that look mean?” he asked warily.
“I’m not ready to sleep.”
“Good,” he said, putting one knee on the bed beside her. “Because I have other plans for you.”
She cocked her head. “Are you content to give me pleasure and take none for yourself?”
He stilled. “We discussed this already.”
“I know, and while I want you inside me, I also know the risks.”
Neil closed his eyes and swallowed. In his mind, he knew he must remain a virgin, but his body did not always agree. Her words appealed to his body, and he fought the war between desire and duty.
“But do you never take any pleasure? I’m not a complete innocent.” The blush on her cheeks belied her words. “I’ve been touched by men, and I know they never touch me without wanting something in return.”
Neil stiffened. “I may be a bastard, but I’m a gentleman enough not to expect anything from you.”
“But what if I want to give you something?” She reached for his waistband and tugged him closer. “What if I want to touch you and”—she loosened the fall of his trousers—“see you?”
“I wouldn’t argue,” he said, voice tight. The placket came loose and his cock sprang free and into her small, warm hand. Dear God but those long, lithe fingers felt good as they curled around him and slid up and then down.
“You’re softer than I thought,” she said.
He blew out a breath. He felt anything but soft at the moment. “That’s not exactly a compliment.”
“What I mean is, I didn’t expect the skin to feel so much like velvet—velvet over steel. Do I move like this?” She slid her hand up and then down.
“Yes,” he managed, clenching his jaw. He swallowed, attempting to regain control. Think of something benign—long lists of orders, a game of billiards, polishing my boots. “And here I was thinking you had done this before,” he said when he managed to regain his voice.
“No. I’ve never touched a man skin to skin. I’ve never put my hand on a man or taken him in my mouth.”
“Oh, bloody hell,” he said between clenched teeth, squeezing his eyes shut and trying desperately to think of anything but the motion of her hand or the promise of her plump lips. She would be the end of him.
“May I?” she asked.
He opened his eyes and looked down at her. She’d risen to her knees and sat with her mouth poised over the tip of his erection. The image was the most erotic he had ever seen, and yet his first thought had nothing to do with fellatio.
She wanted him. Of all the men she might have had, all the men who had wanted her, she wanted him. Him—Neil Wraxall, bastard of the Marquess of Kensington, failed leader of the Survivors. The man who was responsible for the death of eighteen men.
He didn’t deserve her or this.
He began to shake his head, but then her tongue darted out, skating over him. “Please,” she said.
And he couldn’t say no. For the first time in a long, long time, he took the affection—or perhaps it was love?—offered.
Twenty
Julia watched Neil’s face go from a mask of control to soft and vulnerable. He was a beautiful man, and when his eyes darkened to azure blue and his full mouth relaxed, she found him utterly irresistible. She lowered her lips to taste him again, sweeping her tongue over his tip.
He smelled musky and clean, like the gardens in Mayfair after a hard rain. At first she explored him tentatively, learning the shape and feel of him, but gradually also the way he tensed or the hissed exclamations of pleasure he made to let her know what he enjoyed. She closed her mouth over him, taking him inside, and he swore loudly.
She paused and looked up. “You don’t like that?”
“I like it,” he said between clenched teeth. “You don’t have to do this.”
“Oh, I want to do this,” she said, taking him in her mouth again and sliding her tongue over his length. She understood now why he enjoyed giving her pleasure. She loved the way he reacted to her touch. She loved knowing she could have this effect on him—this man who was so strong and confident, this man who was not afraid to face down even the worst villains of the underworld. He was hers at this moment, completely hers. She loved knowing he wanted her, and that she could make him feel the same pleasure he’d given her.
She loved touching him intimately, and she loved his touch on her.
She loved him.
She hadn’t wanted to fall in love. It had been the furthest thing from her mind when she had twelve boys to care for, an orphanage to keep up, and three rats to keep contained, but how could she help falling in love with him? From the moment she’d met him, he’d done nothing but take care of her and the boys. He’d done nothing but protect her. He might have been ridiculously regimented, overprotective, and overly concerned with duty, but she could trust him. She could count on him, and he was the first man she really believed she could rely on.
And that was not taking into account his perfect face or his hard soldier’s body. Appearance should not have mattered. She of all people should know that, considering the Viscount of Lainesborough was considered handsome by most ladies of the ton, and he’d used his appearance to steal Harriett’s heart and then her dowry. But Neil was no rake, and though she knew what she did broke every single rule of her upbringing, she did not care.
She wanted him.
She wanted this.
She wanted more.
“Julia,” Neil said with a choked sound. When she pulled back, he stepped away, his glorious manhood stiff and at the ready. “I can’t hold on any longer.”
“Then don’t,” she said. She wanted more. She wanted all of him. She moved back on the bed and held out her arms. “Come here.”
Though he breathed heavily and she could see the desire in his eyes, he did not move toward her. “I cannot.”
“Neil, I want you. I…” She faltered. If she said the words now, she could not take them back. But if she did not say them, she might suffer her father’s curse and spend the rest of her life wishing she had. “I love you,” she said quietly.
His eyes widened and lost some of that hazy quality. She thought for a moment, he might turn and bolt. Instead, he merely stood motionless before yanking his shirt over his erection and covering himself.