Page 84 of Mending the Baron's Sins
The words were on the tip of his tongue when he saw the tears spill out of her eyes. He was desperate to ask her. Who cared if she was a healer, and he was a baron? What did the difference between them matter when they cared for one another so much? Yes, undoubtedly, people would talk. Lavinia would be shocked indeed, but he didn’t care about that. If Orla would have him, and consent to be his wife, he would be deliriously happy, but could he ask her now? Was this even the right moment?
No. Not when she is crying.
He raised his hands and wiped the tears from her cheeks, drying them gently with the pads of his thumbs. He cradled her face in his grasp, resting his forehead against hers.
“Why are you crying?” he whispered.
“Relief.” Her hands tightened around the lapels of his jacket. “To see you are still alive.”
Her words were his undoing.
He moved his lips to hers, capturing them in a kiss. It was the first time in days he had felt renewed after a bath and his bedsheets were clean. He wasn’t going to waste the opportunity to be close to Orla now, not when she was so near in his arms.
Her lips molded to his, and her body moved against his own. Their hips brushed as he held her tight, one arm sliding across her back once again. She mewled a little into the kiss, a sound of perfect pleasure, as he bit her lip playfully, asking for permission. She parted her lips, and he met her tongue with his own.
The touch of their tongues was like the ignition of fire. What had started slowly and gently was suddenly full of heat. Neither of them could keep their hands still. They reached for one another, pulling at clothes quite desperately. His jacket was tossed to the floor before he fell back down into an armchair behind him, close to the fire. She followed him, kicking off her shoes and ending up straddling his lap, her knees tucked around his hips.
Her body arched into his as he wrapped both of his arms around her again.
“Orla,” he whispered between their kisses.
“Don’t stop, Horace. Please,” she murmured, looking him in the eye.
He knew he shouldn’t. They should respect the fact they were not married. Had he not made a promise not to risk her reputation? Yet when he had faced death, reputations didn’t seem so important anymore. What mattered more than anything was the two of them in this room.
He kissed her again, promising her with his actions.
Orla… I will not stop.
Chapter 25
Orla was consumed by Horace’s kiss and his touches. It was all she could think about as his hands rose, his fingers splaying across her waist. There was a heat erupting inside of her, volcanic and far stronger than the roaring fire behind them. She didn’t want to dampen those flames, but to die in them, to be burned by them.
When his hands reached for the laces of her gown, she arched her back, aiding him to get closer to her. The gown was slipped from her shoulders, down her waist and toward her hips, though their position with her straddling him stopped it going any further.
He next reached for her stays, pulling back from her kiss and holding her gaze as he pulled at those laces. The intensity of that gaze made her quite breathless, unable to look anywhere else but at him.
As the stays were dropped to the floor, Orla was suddenly lifted from the chair. It was testament to the strength returning to Horace that he could carry her so easily to the bed. He laid her down on her back and pulled the gown from her body along with the chemise.
Soon, all that she had left was her stockings. He climbed over her body and kissed down her legs, taunting her with playful nipsas he removed those stockings. She was writhing with pleasure as he removed the last of her stockings, leaving her completely bare.
That rush of wetness returned beneath her legs. It was now familiar to her, for she had felt it so much when they had last been here together. She wriggled her hips against the bedsheets, desperate for some friction and release.
He drank in the sight of her, watching as he crawled up her body. He was still fully dressed as he bent down over her, kissing her once again. Her hands were reaching for his waistcoat, trying to pull it off him, but in her determination to reach him, she hadn’t noticed his hand had gone wandering, not until his fingers traced the curve of her hip. She halted, her kiss quite still, as she waited to see where those fingers would go next.
He reached down between the two of them, his fingers tracing the wetness of her opening. She gasped against his lips then pulled back, the better to look him in the eye as he teased her. It was a tantalizing touch, the promise of what more could be, then suddenly, he entered her strongly with his fingers.
The pleasure was so sudden and strong that she parted her legs as much as she possibly could, giving him full access to her. One finger was replaced by two as he pleasured her, stretching her body and driving her toward that oblivion of pleasure she had known before.
With her hands tugging at the bedsheets around her head, she couldn’t stop herself. Her body was on a precipice, ready to tip over the edge, then his hands suddenly left her.
She whimpered for the loss of his touch, then looked up to see he was unbuttoning his waistcoat. With that wetness now flooding between her legs, it was with some difficulty that she moved to her knees before him. She undressed him, her hands trembling with the need to see all of him. She pulled the waistcoat from his body then his shirt, tugging it over his head. To see his pale skin revealed, the subtle tone of his stomach made her bite her own lip, hiding in her moans.
He kissed her suddenly, though briefly, his lips merely a playful taunt.
“Don’t hide those sounds,” he begged. His pleading made her stomach quiver once again.
They both reached down to the fastening of his trousers, staring one another in the eye. It was a barrier they hadn’t yet passed and yet they both seemed to be waiting for one another, wanting to be sure before they went so far. Orla was the one to pull at the opening, determined to see him. He helped her then. The trousers were slid down his hips, slowly revealing more and more of him.
