Page 13 of A Season for Christmas

He was waiting for her lead.

Which did not feel like the Samuel she had known… and at the same time, it did. While he had always made the moves in their courtship, as a gentleman should, he had also waited for her decisions, had he not? If she had been more secure, more confident, if shehadtaken the lead, even as a debutante, he would have followed her. He would have followed her all the way to Gretna Green and married her.

That was not in the cards now, but so many other things that had not been an option before were now open to them.

Catherine moved his hand, forcing him to turn in his chair—no, he moved his chair along with him, the wood scraping over the carpet so his body was now facing hers. That was even better for what she intended.

She slid onto his lap, letting go of his hand so she could wrap her arms around his neck.

“I am tired of thinking,” she murmured and bent her head to his.

Samuel

It felt like a dream he’d once had.

Catherine on his lap, her soft curves pressed against his body, her hands on the back of his neck, lips against his, with her tongue softly teasing them open. When she’d been a debutante, he’d stolen a kiss or two. There had been an element of danger to those kisses, of anxiety, even as part of him had hoped they might be caught. Not that he’d wanted her ruined; he’d just wanted her to be his, and even then, he’d known—deep down—her parents would never choose him for her husband.

He'd known, deep down, that Catherine would not have the backbone to defy them.

Not then.

But now?

Now, she was her own woman. Confident. Assured. And when he opened his mouth to hers, their tongues danced, allowing him to taste her in a way he’d never gotten to when he was courting her. Samuel groaned, his hands going around her, shifting her on his lap as his cock filled, coming to attention with alacrity in response to this sudden change.

Catherine was still careful, still measured in her decisions, but it was true she had changed as well. Before, she would never have been the aggressor. Every time he’d kissed her, she’d needed time to think about what they had just done. How it had made her feel.

Obviously, she had no such need for a break now.

Samuel did not want to think about how many men she’d kissed since he’d stolen her first.

It does not matter.

I had her first, and I shall have her last.

Though he was not going to be telling her the latter part yet. He did not want to scare her off. Even though, with her on his lap, in his arms, he already knew he was willing to do whatever he needed to do in order to keep her there. He could take any flogging, any pain, anything she demanded of him… as long as he never had to let her go again.

He should not have gone running after seeing her with the Duke of Kent. To be fair, he’d been wrestling with both jealousy and the realization she’d changed far more than he’d anticipated… Not to mention his own insecurities over whether or not he could do what she wanted…

But he felt it now, deep inside himself, the utter surety of how she fit against him, the way there had always been a space open for her in his heart.

His arms tightened about her, and he felt her moan against his lips as she shifted on his lap again. There waspressure against his cock for a moment, then it lifted as she did, rearranging herself so that she was kneeling over his lap, one leg on either side of his thighs.

Samuel shifted his hands down, filling them with her bottom, and he squeezed as he pulled her more tightly against him. Need surged, hot and furiously demanding, wanting more of her.

Her hands were on either side of his face, sliding back into his hair as she kissed him, matching his need with her own. He groaned, his hips thrusting upward, trying to rub against her, but the position was too awkward.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, reaching up to unbutton the back of her dress. Was he making assumptions? Yes. But she was the one who had climbed onto his lap in the first place.

“Too many clothes,” she muttered, tugging at his cravat.

Thank God they were on the same page.

7

Catherine

All the thinking she had done beforehand had not helped prepare her for the reality, for how she would feel in the moment, for the effect Samuel’s hard body against hers, his hands on her, would have. Her late husband had been a traditional man, visiting her bed mostly to try to beget an heir… and when no heir was forthcoming, he’d mostly lost interest. Though bedding him had not been unpleasant, it had also not been as pleasurable as she had found such activities could be after she’d joined the Society for Sin.

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