Page 71 of Intolerable
“It’s just another reason I feel so connected to you.” She slid her hands up his chest and under his coat, settling on the curve of his neck. The urge to ask him if he felt the same overwhelmed her.
He stroked her jaw before lowering his head. “I feel the same way about you.”
Her heart sang as he kissed her, joining their bodies while joy coursed through her veins. Then he surprised her by sweeping her into his arms. She squealed, and he whispered, “Shh,” against her lips before kissing her again.
Circling to the rear of the building, he opened a door and stepped cautiously over the threshold. She wanted to ask where he was taking her but remained silent. After surveying the area briefly, he carried her to a coach.
It was nearly dark here in the back of the stables, but not completely so. She could still discern his features.
He set her down then opened the door to the coach with a flourish, his leg extended. “After you, my lady,” he said quietly but with great gallantry as he offered her his hand.
She placed her fingers in his palm and stepped up into the coach. It was perhaps a decade old and seemed as though it was no longer used very often. “How did you know this was here?” She settled on the forward facing seat while he climbed in after her.
Closing the door with a snap, he sat opposite her. “I arrived early and scouted the area for an appropriate place. I was ecstatic to find this old coach so far removed from the activity in front.”
“It is most fortuitous.”
His eyes narrowed seductively. “You look like the maid I met in the closet with that cap on.”
“Should I take it off?” She lifted one hand to her head.
“I’m torn. On the one hand, it’s quite arousing as it recalls that day when I nearly shagged you in a cupboard.” His words stirred the already pulsing heat inside her into a boil. “On the other, I long to take your hair down, and I can’t very well do that while you wear a cap. I think I will choose the former as we don’t have all night, unfortunately.”
Perhaps someday they would. No, she would think only of tonight. “Does it help to know that I’m only wearing this dress and a chemise beneath it? That should save you some time. That is, if you plan to—” She couldn’t bring herself to say what she thought he was going to do, what he’d mentioned last night.
“Just to be clear, we are not having intercourse,” he said, his voice sounding a bit hoarse. “I won’t risk a child.”
“I can’t find any fault with that. Just disappointment.”
“Wicked girl,” he murmured, licking his lower lip. The heat in her core intensified. “How easily does that gown open?”
“Fairly easily.” She reached up and unfastened the buttons on the front below her shoulders. The bodice of the gown dropped, exposing her chemise. “Why are you sitting over there?”
“So I can see you. But I wish to God there was more light.” He scooted forward. “Does your chemise come down too?”
There was a lacing around the neckline so that she could gather it—or loosen it. She tugged and did the latter. “Like this?”
“Yes.” He swallowed—she could see his throat work. “Take it down so I can see your breast.”
Cassandra did as he bade, pulling the garment down to reveal her right breast. “Just one?”
“God, you’re beautiful. I’ll take both, please.”
Pushing and pulling at the garment, she situated it so that both of her breasts were exposed to his gaze. The cool air made her nipples stiff. Or perhaps that was due to the way he was looking at her.
Her breasts felt heavy, and they tingled with want. She ached for him to touch her. “Is there something else I should do?” she asked softly, growing nervous at his inaction.
“I’m torturing myself for a few minutes, if you’ll bear with me.”
A short laugh slipped past her lips. “You’re torturing me too.”
“That is not my intent.” His mouth tilted into a lop-sided smile. “Actually, perhaps it is. Anticipation is good for both of us.” He shifted on the seat then removed his coat. He was already without a hat or gloves. “Do you ever touch yourself there?”
“Not really. Should I?” Her nipples seemed to quiver in response.
“Most definitely. Bring your hands up and cup them underneath.” He watched as she did what he said. “Lift them, gently. Yes, like that. They are too big for your hands.” His voice was low and rough, like a rock tumbling down a hillside.
“But not for yours, I imagine.” She moved her hands, massaging herself, and was shocked to find the need between her legs grew more urgent. “I want to see them on me. Your hands.” She imagined his mouth there too. “And your mouth.”
