Page 66 of To Catch an Earl

“Did you get that at the same time as you lost your vision?”

He glanced down, as if he’d forgotten it was there. “Oh. No. That was courtesy of a French saber at Badajoz. It hurt like the devil.”

Gathering her courage, Emmy stepped forward and took the washcloth from his hand. “Let me help. Turn around.”

After an instant’s surprise, he turned and presented his back. She had to go up on tiptoes to reach his neck, then she slid the washcloth over his shoulders and down the twin ridges of muscle that bracketed his spine. He fisted his hands at his sides. His muscles twitched as she washed his ribs and the triangle of muscle that overlaid them, then swept the cloth down over the perfect globes of his backside.

He sucked in a breath.

She knelt beside the tub and trailed the cloth down the back of his thighs, over the back of his knees, fascinated by the way the hairs diverted the water in dark swirls. He shuddered like a fine, impatient stallion as she stroked his calves. A heady power filled her. He was giving her permission to explore. She could do whatever she liked.

“Turn around,” she commanded softly.

She was still on her knees, so when he complied, his rigid erection was right there in front of her. It bobbed as if it had a life of its own.

“Touch me.” His voice was gravelly with need.

Emmy felt light-headed. She’d heard about this from Sally, dreamed about it in the dark recesses of the night. Whatever happened after this, she would know the taste of him, the feel. She leaned forward.

Chapter 35.

Alex gripped the sides of Emmy’s head as his eyes rolled back in his skull. She pressed a tentative kiss to his tip, then swirled her tongue around as if she were licking the last traces of a Gunther’s ice from a spoon.

His knees almost gave out. She was going to kill him; he was going to die of pleasure and he didn’t even care. Nothing had ever felt so good as her sweet, inexpert touch.

After enduring her innocent explorations for as long as he could stand, he leaned down and pulled her to her feet. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Enough of that,” he rasped, “or it’ll be over before it’s begun.”

He stepped out of the tub, caught the hem of her chemise, and drew it over her head. Before she could protest at being naked, or become embarrassed, he maneuvered her onto the bed and followed her down, half lying overher. His breath caught in his chest at the incredible feel of her soft skin against his own, the fragrance of her in his nose.God.He braced himself on one elbow and gazed down at her, utterly enchanted.

Beautiful.

This was what he’d been missing last night: the sight of her alabaster skin, a glimpse of those perfect breasts and long legs. He’d felt her body, heard the breathy little sounds she’d made in the darkness, but he hadn’tseen. Now, he feasted his eyes.

She was sleek and smooth; slight and intensely feminine. In the flickering candlelight, her nipples were dusky pink, tight buds in the cool air. The long hair spilling over the pillows matched the dark curls at the junction of her thighs, and his mouth went dry in anticipation. She was spread out beneath him like a banquet.

He wanted to set upon her like a wild beast, to taste and to ravish, but there was no urgency this time. There would be no groping around in the darkness. He would see every nuance of her expression, watch every shiver and stroke. They could both take delight in discovery. His body hardened to the point of pain.God, he wanted her.

Giving into temptation, he stroked down her side to her waist and spread his fingers wide, gauging the distance across her navel. He could probably encircle her waist with both hands if he tried.

“You’re so small,” he murmured, almost to himself. “God, I’ll hurt you. Crush you.”

Her chuckle brought his gaze back to her face, and she stroked his arm from shoulder to wrist with a light touch that made him want to arch like a cat.

“And you’re so big,” she teased, wrinkling her nose. “The terrifying Alexander Harland of Bow Street, known to show no mercy.”

He mock scowled at her, but she met his eyes, and he felt himself being sucked down into their depths.

“You won’t hurt me,” she whispered confidently. “You didn’t last night, did you? I’m stronger than I look, Harland. I can take whatever you give.”

She slid her hand to his nape and pulled him down for a kiss, and Alex groaned into her mouth. With a giggle of delight at how much she obviously affected him, she kissed her way down his chin, his neck, then across his collarbone. When she reached his shoulder, she bit him lightly, a string of teasing nips, then flicked him again with her tongue. It was heavenly torment.

Alex leaned back and threaded his fingers through hers, noting with a kind of detached despair how much larger his own hands were. Her fingers were so delicate, her nails neat ovals. His hands looked like bear paws in comparison. How could such a tiny thing have caused him so much trouble? She was mischief and lawlessness in a tiny, irresistible package.

He brought her finger to his mouth and enjoyed the way her eyes widened as he sucked it between his lips. He released her hand and cupped her breast, savoring the sweet, slight weight of it, and watched as she bit her lower lip in an unconsciously provocative gesture. He’d never felt this desperate for a woman before in his life. Hell, he was no better than a randy schoolboy. The scent of her skin coiled in his head and the only thought he could manage was:I have to taste her.

It didn’t matter that they were on opposite sides of the law. What mattered was that they were on the same side of this bed.

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