Page 41 of The Secret Life of a Lady
‘Can it get hard again?’
‘Oh, yes. But usually not immediately.’ He put himself to rights, tucking his penis away before she could make any more observations.
This was an incredibly odd conversation to have and not something Killian had experienced before. Never had someone analysed every aspect so minutely. The women he bedded in the past were professionals, well versed in the act of fucking, and rarely interested in the details.
But Hannah made the details so important, granting each moment a new intensity.
This wasn’t fucking. It was something else entirely. Killian had never seduced an innocent. He should feel shame, but he didn’t. He was proud to have brought her pleasure and more than a littleprotective of her. If his guess was correct, she had just experienced her first orgasm, then watched him tug at himself like a randy schoolboy until he found his own release. This would be a vulnerable moment for anyone. ‘Are you alright?’
Hannah didn’t answer immediately. She wrapped her robe around her in a gesture that was becoming familiar to him. As though the piece of flannel were some kind of mythical shield keeping her safe.
‘I’m… I don’t know. When you kissed me earlier, it was wonderful. Everything sort of rose up to some kind of culmination. I had no idea I could feel that way. But then watching you do that just now created a new ache inside of me. A hollow pulsing.’
‘Perhaps you ache to be filled as much as I ache to fill you.’ And he did ache. Not in the usual places. This new pain emanated from his chest, thumping along with his heart, and echoing in that hollow vessel.
Hannah wouldn’t meet his gaze. ‘I think this has been quite enough flirtations for one evening. You should leave now. Please.’
‘I fear we have far exceeded flirtation. Are you upset? Did I go too far?’ He rose from the couch and walked to her, getting down on his knees and ducking to catch her gaze. The thought of hurting her was untenable.
Her eyes filled with uncertainty. She shook her head, and copper hair fell from her neat braid. Curls spilled around her face. ‘No, I just need to think.’
He reached up and brushed his knuckles against her cheek, skirting the edge of her scar. ‘I promised you I would stop when you asked. That will never change. Of course you want time. Take as long as necessary, but don’t pull away. There is more, Hannah. So much more.’ Killian had never questioned his course, but if she pulled back now, he wasn’t sure what he would do. Need, desperate and fierce, surged through him.
A spark of curiosity brought the fire back to her eyes. ‘More?’
‘Infinite mysteries waiting to be solved.’
‘Infinite is quite a lot.’
She couldn’t refuse a challenge. So, Killian would give her one. ‘I shall leave you with this secret, Miss Simmons. There is a delightful little treasure hidden in your quim. Find that pearl. I dare you. At our next meeting, I imagine you might have some new questions about all the ways a woman can find release.’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘That’s not possible. You are teasing me. How could I not know about a treasure in my… surely you jest.’
‘See for yourself. If you are brave enough to explore.’
Hannah’s eyes widened before she pressed her lips together and shook her head. He was certain he heard her mumble something close to ‘insufferable man’ before crossing her arms over her chest. ‘Good night, Your Grace.’
‘Good night, Miss Simmons. Sweet dreams.’ He pressed a kiss against her lips, then rose and walked to her door.
‘I won’t do it, you know. Just because you dare me to doesn’t mean I will.’ Hannah’s chin was up, and her arms tightened over her unbound breasts. Sitting in her chair with her hair around her shoulders and her wrapper pulled close, she was impossibly beautiful.
‘Liar.’ Killian grinned as he turned and opened her door, shutting it quietly behind him.
The next morning, Killian arranged a meeting with Lord Cavendale and his son. He would not run from his responsibilities any longer.
The butler showed Killian to Lord Cavendale’s private study.Lord Cavendale was behind his desk, and Alfred sat on a leather couch with an unopened book beside him. Both men rose upon Killian’s entry.
‘Lieutenant General Killian, welcome.’ Lord Cavendale stepped from behind his desk to shake his hand. ‘Would you like a drink? Coffee, perhaps? Or something stronger if you prefer. It’s a bit early, but we won’t judge.’ He winked at Killian. For a wild moment, Killian was reminded of his own father. Grief and longing washed over him. He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure.
‘Coffee would be fine.’ Killian wasn’t thirsty, but it would be a welcome distraction during what promised to be a difficult conversation.
‘Williams, would you send up some coffee, please.’ Lord Cavendale glanced at the butler, then gestured to the sitting area where Alfred stood stiffly, one hand clasped behind his back, the other tapping the book against his thigh.
Killian unbuttoned his jacket and chose a wingback chair in deep jade upholstery.
‘Is there anything else, Your Grace?’ The butler asked.
‘Just the coffee,’ Cavendale never turned away from Killian. ‘I must say, we were hoping you would speak with us.’ He sat in the brother to Killian’s chair, leaving the leather couch for his son. Alfred sat last, placing his book on a dark oak coffee table separating him from Killian.
