Page 63 of Why Do Earls Fall in Love?
She was going to be wise. He didn’t want to hear it. Instead, he pulled her closer still. “You should come with a warning sign,” he rasped. He took her mouth with his.
Gods, her lips were soft. She felt fragile and slight in his embrace, and yet her warmth heated the empty spaces inside of him.
Danger ahead. That’s what her sign should say. It lay in each curve, each shift of her mouth as she moved with his, kissing him back and taking his tongue deep, thrusting back with her own. Most of all, jeopardy lay in the yearning that swamped him. He ached with it, with the need for her care and concern. Formore,deeperandfurther—echoes of the longings she’d dredged up in that kiss during their wedding.
His hands were roaming over her bosom, along the sweet curve of her waist, around to the buttons on the back of her gown. Her bodice sagged, but his nimble fingers pulled at the ties of her stays and in a moment, all the fabric covering her dropped away to her waist and she was bare before him.
Growling, he filled his hands with her.
Damnation, what she did to him. The sight of her struck him hard, like flint, making him flare to life, shooting light and heat and savage lust all through him.
Her breasts were plump and round, the nipples erect and inviting. He answered their call, thumbing roughly, then savoring with gentle kisses. He took his time, sucking softly and running his tongue over the peaks until she moaned with incoherent pleasure.
His cock throbbed with unruly, nearly painful need. Her breath came faster now, the cadence urging him on. Her hands roamed over his shoulders, burrowed into his hair.
He shivered. He was on fire.
Too much. She made him feel too much. She was so giving and sensual. She offered things he’d never known he wanted. Warmth. Support. Closeness.
He was not used to this yearning. To wanting so much.
Danger.
With a groan, he pulled away. Straightening, he pulled her into a tight embrace. For one breath. Two. Three.
She stood, gone stiff in his embrace. “Whiddon, I can’t trap you. You are already caught. We both are.”
“I know.”
“Then why don’t we . . . continue?”
Because she was instinctively generous. Passionate. Kind.
And he was swaying back and forth between the need to clutch her to him and the urge to toss her away.
He compromised, letting her go and spinning on his heel. He took several steps to the hearth, fighting to get himself—and his erection—under control.
“How long?” she asked softly. He glanced back to see her holding her bodice up and watching him. “How long do you mean to wait?”
He didn’t know the answer.
She waited a moment. When he had no answer beyond the shake of his head, she held her clothing against her and quietly returned to her own room.
Cursing, he laid his head on the mantel. He’d spent his life carefullynotwanting too much. Not expecting his father’s approval or his mother’s notice. He’d often sacrificed his own such needs to shield William from disdain or disapproval. In the end, he’d found it wiser and safer to cease wanting, yearning or craving for anything.
And yet, that’s all Charlotte made him do.
