Page 57 of The Viscount in her Bedroom
“He just finished,” Louisa said softly.
Simon lifted his head and grinned at her, sweat running down his cheeks from his damp hair. “Ah, victory is sweet.” He lifted his head. “Manvil, are we near enough for you to grab the oar?”
“Yes, my lord.”
Soon the valet was pulling them to the pier, then helping both of them out. On the other side, Lord Keane climbed onto the pier, and to his credit, he turned to help Georgie.
Damp and bedraggled, Lord Keane gave Simon a reluctant nod. “A good race, Wade. I’m impressed.”
Simon put his hand out and Lord Keane shook it. “Thank you, Keane. Why don’t you all stay for dinner. I’m sure Cook has been preparing for it all afternoon. You can even stay the night if you don’t want to get started too late for London.”
“I’ve got to return to Town early, so I can’t spend the night. But I appreciate the offer. I’ll send you your winnings.”
“I’m not worried,” Simon said with a grin. “You will let me know if this makes the papers.”
Lord Keane stiffened, then gave a tight smile and shook his head. “Tilden would never tell.” He looked at the other man. “Would you.”
Mr. Tilden blushed.
~oOo~
After the guests had left, Louisa watched Simon head down a corridor, assuming he was going to change. She ducked away from Georgie who was relating the exciting story to Lady Wade. Louisa wanted to make sure that in his jubilant state, Simon didn’t lose his way. To her surprise, after he moved into the depths of the house, he opened the door to the billiards room and went inside. Cautiously, she approached and peered in.
And there was Simon, waiting. She gave a gasp that revealed her. He caught her waist, pulling her inside and shutting the door. He pushed her back several steps until she came up against the table. As he loomed over her, his lower body held her in place, and the pressure was exhilarating. His damp shirt clung to him, revealing more than it concealed. His hair hung in short, wet curls that almost reached his vivid green eyes.
He put his hands on the table on either side of her. “You’ve been following me. Do you know how that makes you look?”
She swallowed, trying to control her breathing. “Like I’m a smitten woman.”
He closed his eyes. “Are you smitten?”
He seemed to be having just as much trouble breathing as she was, and it was a heady feeling.
“I’ve been worried about you, in your first days walking about alone.” She moistened her lips. “And you know I feel…something for you.”
He pushed his hips harder against her, almost a slow roll, and then she really felt something—it was hard and long, and made her want to shiver deep inside.
“You called this feeling an awareness,” he said in a deep voice.
She couldn’t make herself push him away.
“You know I’ve experienced it, too.” He tilted his head, as if he would bring their mouths together. “So why do you continue to follow me? You had to know that I could practically feel you—”
He pressed even closer to her, his chest coming into contact with hers. She whimpered softly.
“And I can always smell you.”
His hands slid up her arms, across her shoulders to her neck. His face brushed against the side of hers, then behind her ear. As he inhaled deeply, her nipples became taut points that began to ache.
“The scent of you lingers everywhere,” he murmured.
As he talked, she could feel his lips moving against her skin, making her quiver. She gasped when he licked her, a long, slow swipe that circled the rim of her ear. He pressed kisses along the line of her jaw until once again his mouth was just above hers.
“I assume there’s no one else in this room,” he said, his breath a soft, warm puff on her lips.
“No one,” she whispered.
“I can think of other uses for this billiards table.”
