Page 42 of Pursuing Lord Pascal
“If only I’d known.”
She didn’t waste time on regrets. They’d met again at the right time. He wrenched his shirt over his head and hurled it into the corner.
The superb view made the breath snag in her throat. “Dear God, you’re magnificent.”
“Amy…” he began, but when she raised her hands to release her hair, whatever he meant to say was lost as he watched her draw the pins free. At the sight of her hair tumbling about her shoulders, his eyes flared with hunger.
She stepped forward and twined her arms around his neck. She could hardly bear to go even an instant without touching him. “Kiss me.”
Luscious, dark, succulent cooperation left her head swimming and her knees weak. Slowly he lifted away, as she struggled to remain upright on legs that threatened to fold beneath her.
“My turn?” he murmured.
Reluctantly she opened her eyes. His taste lingered on her lips. “Not yet.”
He bit back another groan and buried his hands in her hair. “Have pity.”
“Oh, no.” Amy ran her hands over his skin again. It was such a luxury, touching him like this. The firm chest, the wide shoulders, the powerful back. At his sides, his fists opened and closed, and by the time she scored her nails across his nipples, he was shaking.
Who would have thought she could make this sophisticated man shake?
Power surged higher. Daringly she released the buttons on his breeches. The intriguing bulge inside them beckoned. With trembling hands, she revealed his hardness.
At first sight of him, a gasp escaped her. Gervaise’s virility awed her, and the nerves that she hoped she’d conquered jumped up to snatch away her confidence.
She’d reached to touch him, but galloping uncertainty made her pause. Before she could withdraw, he caught her hand and pressed it against him. Every drop of moisture evaporated from her mouth, as she held his heat and power.
“Like this,” he murmured, shaping her hand around him. He jerked under her tentative caress, and she instinctively tightened her grip. A low growl of masculine pleasure was her reward.
It turned out her confidence hadn’t fled after all. His response did wonders for her self-assurance. With voluptuous pleasure in what she did, Amy began to stroke him.
As he grew larger under her brazen caress, she watched his face. His eyes were half-closed, and a hectic flush marked those slashing cheekbones. A frown drew his eyebrows together, as if what she did tested the outer reaches of his limits.
When she squeezed, he opened his eyes fully. The dilated pupils took over most of the blue and betrayed his excitement. “Let me touch you,” he grated out, his usually melodious baritone as rough as gravel.
“Yes,” she whispered, swaying forward. She’d reached a point where she didn’t want to tease anymore. She just wanted Gervaise. “Touch me.”
“Amy…” he groaned and caught her hand, crushing it against him for one last breathtaking moment. He hauled her into a kiss so urgent, it left her gasping.
Chapter Twelve
Remaining still under Amy’s touch pushed Pascal until he teetered on the edge. What a glorious surprise she turned out to be. He’d expected to need to coax her into revealing her sensuality. Long ago, he’d realized that for a widow, she was close to innocent.
So when she’d tugged off his neck cloth and kissed his bare chest, his heart slammed to an astounded stop. Then he’d stood trembling as with unashamed enjoyment, she touched him. Finally she’d laid her hand on his cock, and the pleasure threatened to immolate him.
All impulse to prolong the preliminaries into the evening vanished. He’d never wanted a woman as much as he wanted Amy Mowbray. Now, praise God, he was going to have her.
He drew out of that blazing kiss and stepped away to sit on the bed. Clumsy with urgency, he yanked off his boots and flung them aside. Then he stood and directed his attention to unwrapping this incomparable gift fate had given him. Quickly he unlaced the pretty rose-pink dress and let it fall to the floor. Her filmy undergarments soon followed.
When at last she was naked, he released the breath he felt he’d held all day. She’d led him such a chase, he’d never been sure of her. Even when he’d carried her upstairs. But her meltingexpression now told him she cast aside reluctance and offered him everything.
The compulsion to rush to the end while she was here and she was his set his blood alight, but he made himself linger to admire her. “You’re temptation personified.”
Her body was lithe and graceful, more athletic than he’d imagined in those feverish nights when he’d lain awake wanting her. Full, high breasts. Rich, female curves. Long legs.
Nervously Amy raised one hand to cover the brown curls below her pale stomach. The other hand hovered above her beaded pink nipples.
“I’ve…I’ve never been naked with a man before,” she admitted in a cracked voice. “Wilfred came to me in darkness, and we always kept our clothes on.”
