Page 30 of One Night of Temptation
He curled his hand, cupping her, and she gasped.
Instantly, he stilled. Then he started to withdraw. She turned to face him. His eyes were open, his features drawn into a tight mask of almost pain.
“My apologies,” he said, his voice husky. She wondered if it was from sleep or arousal.
“There’s nothing to apologize for. Unless you plan to stop.”
He blinked. “Of course I plan to stop. What would you have me do?”
“Continue.”
He paled, and she brought her hand up to touch his face. His jaw was rough with the stubble of his beard. “That felt…nice.” She made a noise of disgust in her throat. “No, notnice. It was exciting. New. Is it wrong for me to want to feel what happens next?”
“No, it isn’t wrong. It is, however, wrong for us to lie together.” He alsosoundedpained.
“I’m not asking you to do that.” But suddenly, she envisioned it—at least what she knew of it. The idea of him, that part of him she’d felt before she’d rolled over, filling her where a delicious hunger now throbbed captured her imagination. “I can’t help wondering how it would feel. With you.”
He closed his eyes briefly, and a low groan sounded in his throat. When he opened his eyes again, the gold at the center seemed to burn especially bright. “Pen, you are tempting me to the very limits of my honor.”
“Would it be dishonorable to bring me pleasure?” She truly didn’t mean to push him, but this moment was too precious to let pass. What if she never had this chance again? “I could be in Lancashire soon and I may very well spend my life as a spinster.”
His brow creased, and he frowned slightly. “I hope not. To answer your question, it may not be dishonorable, but it’s certainly beyond propriety.”
“I don’t care about propriety. If I did, I never would have tried to make myself unmarriageable.”
“Propriety is an intrinsic part of your plan. Without it, there would be no reason to disappear and fabricate your ruination in order to avoid marriage. Absent societal rules, you would still be an acceptable wife.” He winced. “You know what I mean. I hope.”
He had an irritatingly good point, but she could make her own. “By orchestrating a scandal, I’ve demonstrated my disregard for Society’s stupid rules. And truly, if I’m going to be ruined, I may as wellberuined.”
“Except you also told me you may wish to wed someday.”
“Who knows if that will happen? As I said, I could spend my life as a spinster devastated by regret.”
“You present a solid argument.” He pressed his lips together, deepening his frown. “But I am a rector and this is my church. You must understand that I cannot be the one to satisfy your curiosity.”
She wanted to argue that it was more than curiosity, but shedidn’twant to bedevil him. She still cradled his jaw, and now she moved her hand to the back of his neck. Leaning forward, she kissed him briefly, then murmured, “I understand. But I will still regret it.” She touched her lips to his once more.
The groan in his throat was much louder this time and much more animalistic. He swiftly rolled over, covering her with his body as he pressed her into the mattress with his weight.
It felt strange and shocking and so very divine.
His mouth opened over hers, and she greedily met his kiss, touching her tongue to his as he thrust into her mouth. She clutched fervently at his neck while his hands brushed her hair back from her face. He settled between her legs, and she felt his sex against her once more. He was hard and hot, and she burned with desire.
Instinctively, she brought her hips up and sought more of him. He answered by moving against her, and though they were separated by her chemise and his clothing, the touch sparked an arousal so fierce, she gasped into his mouth.
He tilted his head, deepening the kiss, which she would have sworn was impossible. She felt absolutely devoured, and it was wonderful. She dug her fingers into his nape and tugged at his hair as the craving inside her intensified.
Their bodies moved together—mouths, chests, hips—and she knew she was racing toward something she couldn’t name. Something that would change her forever. Something only he could give her.
A spectacular friction grew between her legs. She moved faster, arching up from the bed. Moving her hand down his back, she clutched at his hip, urging him to give her more.
Hugh pulled his lips from hers and braced his hand next to her head. He sucked in a breath before practically panting her name. “Pen, my curate may arrive at any moment. He can’t find us like this.” He moved to her side, pushing himself to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. “We shouldn’t even be like this,” he muttered.
The sound of someone outside the door provoked Penelope’s alarm—and frustration.
“Bury yourself under the bedclothes.” Hugh vaulted out of the bed and dashed for his waistcoat, which he threw on over his terribly wrinkled shirt.
“These interruptions are becoming tedious,” Penelope murmured as she burrowed into the bed and pulled the covers over her head.
