Page 84 of A Daring Pursuit

Geneva spun and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh, Noah.” The dress slid down her body and she couldn’t makeherself care. She set her lips to his jaw, touching his skin with the tip of her tongue. His hands, large and warm, smoothed from her back to her bum, molding her to his bare torso, his erection, hot against her abdomen. “We should wait,” he said.

“No.”

“I want to insist, but…” His hands fell away from her and went to the placket of his breeches. “But I can’t.”

She fumbled with her stays and corset without success.

His member sprang free—his very large member. She froze, staring. She knew the mechanics. The corner prostitutes cared not for privacy, nor did the men taking them in the shadows of closed door fronts. She raised her eyes to his and swallowed hard. Her fingers tingled for wont of feeling that roused conflagration.

“Go ahead,” he growled. “You can’t hurt me.”

Reaching forward with an unfamiliar tentativeness, she brushed her shaking fingers against velvet-covered fire.

He let out a low-keeling moan and grasped her hand, guiding, showing her how to wrap her hand about him. The heat singed her palm, spread through her from her toes up, settling in a decidedly unmentionable place. The stays dropped in a pool at her feet without her having realized he’d taken over the task of relieving her of them. The corset parted and his breaths grew rapid, sending her stomach into a riot of chaos.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, leaning forward and licking her skin, leaving a fiery torrent in its wake. He cupped her breasts and took a nipple in his mouth. The sensation was wickedly obscene. Never had she imagined such sinful decadence existed. A new appreciation for those ladies of the night prickled her.

His mouth moved to the other breast, leaving cool air to pebble the exposed nipple to a hard nub. Large fingers crept their way from her breasts, smoothing over her abdomen, to the curls between her legs. No place anyone had ever touched. Theskin there quivered and a shot of warmth touched the inside of her thigh.

Her hand shot to his wrist and she squeezed.

Noah lifted his head, meeting her gaze with heated desire and a touch of amusement. “It’s all right, love.” He inserted one finger, then a second.

“What…” But the words were pilfered from her like a cutpurse on the run with his goods. Quick as a gale off the sea, she was swept off her stockinged feet, her legs hugging his hips.

His hand stole between their bodies, his breaths harsh rasps. “I’m sorry, love. I’ll attempt to be gentle.”

But Geneva didn’t want gentle. She clutched his hair in her fists—“I don’t need gentle”—and tugged.

His hips surged.

The pain was sharp, but she swallowed her own cry with his mouth over hers.

His hands flexed in the fleshy parts of her bottom. The pain dissipated and, while his impalement filled her, stealing the ability to speak, the warmth blossomed to something insatiable. Perspiration broke out over his skin. It was slick beneath her fingers. Wild yearning soared through her blood. She tightened her legs, reaching for the unreachable. Her heart pounded furiously against her ribs. Groaning, he lifted then lowered her. With each pass, his movements grew more frenzied until their pants united. Until black edged her vision. Until her own body grew intolerable and a burst of stars exploded behind her closed eyes and left her floating adrift.

Noah’s hands tightened on her, his neck taut with corded muscles, two grunts, and a shout muffled by her sternum as he was throbbing within her. “God, Geneva. God.” His whispered breath was hot against her.

With painstaking care, he lifted her, severing his body from hers and setting her gently to her feet.

The sense of loss was significant. More so, as he stuffed his—oh, heavens, what was she supposed to call that massive piece of flesh after such an event—into his breeches, along with his shirt before buttoning the flap. He strode to the basin and dipped a cloth, cleaned his hands, then took her to the bed and gently cleaned her thighs and her private area. After dropping the cloth back near the basin, he snatched up his waistcoat and shrugged into it then grabbed his cravat and tied it loosely about his neck.

With each layer he reapplied, her heart sunk farther past the hard planks of the floor. The sense of loss turned to one of helplessness while she stood there arms hugging her nudity.

Slowly, he stood upright, scrutinizing her with a sharp gleam in his eye. “For such a bold and forthright woman, I do believe you do not value your true self.”

Her head jerked up as the familiar cutting rejoinders crowded her throat. Before a single one could spew forth, she was swept off her feet, carried to the bed, and set gently to her feet on the floor beside it. “I must leave. Pasha is sure to pound down the door at any moment. I will not have someone saying you trapped me—”

“Trapped you!”

“Yes.” He swooped in for a hot, quick kiss that nearly knocked her off her feet. His lips moved to her neck. He pulled her hands from covering her breasts and held them out, looking at her until her body flushed with heat that started between her legs. “You are so beautiful. I want to crawl in the bed with you and show you exactly how much so.” He brought her hands to his lips then dropped his hold and jerked the coverlets back, picked her back up, and tossed her in the middle of the mattress before tucking the covers about her.

Noah moved quickly to where her discarded garments pooled on the floor and grabbed them. He then shook them out and laid them across the settee. “Get some rest. I’ll see you in themorning, love.” One last touch of his lips and he was slipping out the door.

Geneva brought her fingers to her lips, stunned by the emotions roiling through her. A blossom of petals unfurling into full bloom. A cautious sense of bliss, exultation of euphoria? Perhaps it was the evaluative gaze he’d raked over her with its playful light that ignited the unfailing adoration and tender compassion flourishing through her.

She closed her eyes and reveled in the searing imprint of his hand on her skin. Delight. Joy. Hope.

For the first time since her mother’s passing, it washopethat triumphed and allowed her to fall into a blissful slumber.

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