Page 68 of Tempting the Earl

She quickly shook her head. “Nay. Not even a wee bit.”

“Good,” he grunted as he wrapped his arm around her hips to pull her with him as he rose up and leaned back in the corner of the sofa with her now straddling him. Grasping her waist in his hands, he lifted her then allowed her to push herself back down his length. “Then I take back my apology.”

His words were almost drowned out by her heavy moan as she caught on to the power of her new position. Placing her hands firmly on his shoulders, she looked into his eyes with brash and joyful desire bright in her gaze. “Dinnae ever do it again,” she warned.

“Never,” he vowed before lifting his hips to meet hers in a punishing rhythm that swept them both back into the heart of their shared desire.

Chapter Twenty-three

Ainsworth woke with a deep and languid stretch. Her sleepy awareness noted every place in her body that felt new and slightly different. As she acknowledged the subtle aches and light soreness, a smile spread her lips.

She felt...awakened. In an elemental way. It wasn’t something anyone would be able to see or even something she could properly describe. She simply felt...like a deeper realization of herself. Like she’d finally discovered a secret to life.

She gave a husky little laugh at that thought. There was undeniable arrogance in believing what she and the earl had experienced was somehow exceptional—but she did believe it. She felt it. And it was a lovely feeling to wake up with.

Heat rushed through her as she thought over the sensual details of their hours in the study. Every perfect touch, every erotic sound and smell, every look he gave her, and every single melting kiss. The incredible pleasure followed by the sensation of feeling languid and utterly sated. Her head resting against his shoulder and his heartbeat thundering beneath her ear.

She tensed.

Bluidy hell. She’d fallen asleep. Right there in the study, naked as a bairn, sprawled atop the earl in a reckless tangle of limbs. Embarrassment threatened to overtake her, but she shoved it away. She refused to feel even a shadow of shame for something so beautiful—so utterly transformative—as what she’d experienced last night.

Relief warred with confusion as she opened her eyes and noted she was in her bedroom. The drapes were drawn shut over the windows but light spilled out around the edges, telling her morning had arrived.

More memories started to filter through her mind. The earl’s low, soothing voice as he eased her back into her clothing. His arms firm around her as he carried her up the stairs.

She should probably be concerned about the possibility that a servant had seen or heard them, but she was well past worrying about her reputation except in any way it might affect Caillie. Gratefully, she suspected the earl’s servants were as circumspect as they come, and she doubted they’d be carrying tales beyond the walls of Wright House.

As she lifted the coverlet and slid her feet to the floor, she noted she had been left to sleep in her chemise. The rest of her clothes were draped over the foot of her bed. The gorgeous gown was hopelessly wrinkled. No doubt, from being left in a heap on the study floor for so long. And then there was the matter of the passionately rent buttons.

How on earth could she possibly be expected to think of the earl ever again without reliving the feel of his mouth on her skin, his hands molding her body, his member pulsing inside her?

Pressing her hands to her cheeks, she had a bright and sudden need to see him. A need that was quickly shadowed by doubt.

Would he want to see her?

Hadn’t he tried to stop things at one point? And what about his apology after their first time?

What if he regretted what they’d done together? What if he wished it hadn’t happened at all?

An odd twisting discomfort arced through her until her pride rose up and brought it to a halt.

Whipping her chemise off over her head, she washed quickly then redressed in a simple pale green day gown. After twisting her hair into a top-knot, she glanced at the clock and figured it was early enough to hope the earl might still be at breakfast. Though uncertainty still pressed in on all sides, there was only one way to truly know how the man felt about what had transpired between them.

She stepped into the sunlit breakfast room with her breath held tight. And it didn’t release even when she saw him sitting at the head of the small table.

He had a cup of tea half-raised toward his mouth as he read the newspaper held in his other hand when he glanced up at her sudden appearance in the doorway.

Ainsworth’s breath left her lungs in a soft whoosh.

The earl’s expression was properly impassive without a hint of sensuality in his mouth or the slightest arch of acknowledgement in his brow. But his eyes...

They burned.

Bright and deep and intense.

Setting his cup in its saucer and folding the paper beside his plate, he flicked a gaze briefly to the footman standing in the corner of the room then returned it to her. “Good morning, Miss Morgan.”

His voice. There was nothing particularly different about it, yet she immediately felt the tones roll through her as she had last night when he’d murmured against her skin. Forcing a more sedate pace to her heartbeat, she continued forward to take a seat across the table from him.

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