Page 115 of From Rakes to Riches

“Make what stop, Lola?” He traced a lazy, swirling design on her skin.

“Me wanting you,” she rasped, her hips shifting on the mattress beneath his touch.

“Does this help?” He moved his hand higher, his palm flat on the creamy flesh of her inner thigh, so hot and smooth, he could feel her every tremble.

“No,” she answered, her tone indecisive, as if she wanted what she couldn’t have and pleaded with him to solve the problem.

He had every intention of giving her what she wanted.

Her blouse was pulled tight across her chest now, her pert breasts visible through the fabric. Lowering his head, he took one of the sensitive buds in his mouth, sucking gently through the cloth and then licking harder. She whimpered his name and her legs parted, her hip rubbing against his erection in the same wicked rhythm as his tongue on her breast.

He moved his hand higher beneath her skirt, all the way to the opening in her pantalets, the silky fabric damp against his palm. A piercing shot of lust raced through him, making him harder still. The air between them was heated, their bodies pressed tight in the single bed. Her scent, fresh and musky, fired his desire white hot.

He touched her again, his fingertip sliding into her delicate folds where she was incredibly soft and wet. He stroked, teasing at first, but then more insistent, finding the tight nub at her core and causing her to tremble with need.

At last, he delved a finger inside her and she murmured a sound of relief, her body welcoming him. She was hot and ready, her breath coming fast as her hips pressed into the mattress. He lifted his head, wanting to watch her lovely face as he withdrew his finger and entered again, tormenting and teasing, over and over again. She arched toward him, greedy for more, and he slipped another finger inside, her body quivering in need, demanding he please her. Slick with want, her muscles contracted around his fingers. She reached up and grasped his shirt, pulling his mouth to hers as she writhed beneath his touch, finding release, her contented gasp a sensual sound he’d never forget.

Lola lay nestledagainst Theodore while she tried to reclaim herself. There were no words for the sensation she’d justexperienced. Nothing seemed adequate. She’d come apart and couldn’t be put back together in the same way ever again.

She’d wanted pleasure, but with that came so much more. She tilted her head and looked into his handsome face. He gazed at her with an emotion in his eyes she couldn’t label. She understood why. She also felt overwhelmed.

After a moment, he leaned down and kissed her forehead, the gesture too tender. She breathed deep, shielding herself from the callings of her heart.

“Now I want to touch you,” she said, her tone intentionally firm in an attempt to recover control. How dare he make her feel things she didn’t want to feel? She would exact her revenge. “All of you.”

With a charming smile, he rose from the bed and removed his waistcoat, placing it on the back of one the chairs at the table.

“You look so handsome in your spectacles,” she said. “You should wear them.”

He obeyed, slipping them on before he walked toward her in his shirt and trousers. She was already standing, setting her clothes to rights.

“Sit here,” she said next.

“What?” His expression showed his confusion.

“Sit on the end of the mattress,” she explained, mischief in her voice. “It’s my turn now.”

“And here I thought you’d just had your turn,” he murmured, low and teasing.

“Aah, so much like a man, to think that receiving is more pleasurable than giving.”

He didn’t argue, his expression intense as he sat down.

She heard him inhale and exhale deeply. Was he preparing himself? A devilish grin danced about her lips.

She settled in front of him, kneeling with her legs folded beneath her skirt.

“You’re very flexible,” he said.

“I am,” she agreed as she leaned between his knees and ran her hands up the front of his shirt. “You’d be surprised the positions I can get myself into.”

He made a sound in his throat, something between a grunt and a groan.

She brought her mouth closer to his while her fingertip traced his jaw, the bristle of new whiskers pleasing to the touch. Then she carefully untied his cravat, drawing the long white strip of linen from around his neck in one deliberate movement.

“I suppose this has a variety of uses,” she said playfully as she abandoned it to the floor.

His shirt gaped open to reveal a vee of hair-dusted skin. She pushed her fingers through his chest hair, enjoying the texture, and then continued her exploration with the contours of his pectoral muscles, lower to the ridges of his abdomen, every muscle tensed and smooth to her touch. Her midriff rubbed against the falls of his trousers and his arousal twitched in reaction to the pressure. He eased back slightly, more relaxed now, and she withdrew a little.

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