A fierce light lit his eyes as he watched her tease him lightly with her touch.
“You’ve got to stroke me, sweetheart, please.” He leaned forward, burying his face in the heaving valley of her breasts as he placed one hand on hers, guiding her through the motions. He rocked against her body, echoing the movement of lovemaking as her hand kept a firm grip around the silken hard length of his shaft.
Ambrose raised his head as he reached the moment of his glorious completion, his eyes locking with hers. What she saw there robbed her of her breath. Raw, exquisite desire, mixed with shock and something soft in his gaze. He was beautiful, a god, and he was rocking between her parted thighs as though she were his personal heaven. Something hot splashed on her hand, and Ambrose growled in pleasure, shuddered, and then collapsed heavily on top of her.
Panting, he rested his head on her breasts again, nuzzling the flushed peaks barely concealed by her gown. Surely there was nothing better in the world than this, the warm sun on her bare skin, the feel of cool grass like silk beneath her and Ambrose’s weight on top of her. He pressed soft kisses to her cheek, his breath shallow and slow as though he was ready to fall asleep. Every muscle in her body was relaxed, and she felt languid, almost lazy. It would have taken Mrs. Darby and a parade of the rest of Lothbrook’s matrons to make her even lift her head.
The sudden image of those matrons made Alex twitch, and clarity started to pierce the delightful haze in her head. Mrs. Darby or anyone else could stroll this way and spot them!
Rationality began to inch back in bit by agonizing bit. She was lying just outside the garden with a coldhearted rake between her legs, and her life could be destroyed if anyone saw them.
“What have we done?” she gasped, struggling to push him off. With a groan of protest, he moved off her and lay flat on his back, uncaring that his male parts were completely exposed.
“We’ve just had one of the best picnics ever.” He chuckled, a schoolboy grin making him utterly irresistible when he glanced her away.
Alex had to stop herself from smiling back. Pulling herself together, she slapped his shoulder. “For heaven’s sake, fix your trousers! You’re flapping about in the wind, and someone could see us! See you!” She couldn’t imagine what horrors would follow if the Lothbrook matrons caught sight of Ambrose’s sizable male appendage while he stretched out in the grass like some Italian lothario. It might strike them dead with fear or shock them with the scandal.
With a sensual chuckle, he fixed his trousers and then palmed one of her bare thighs possessively. “Enjoy the afterglow, sweetheart. You can tear me to pieces later.”
Alex wanted to argue, but when he reached up, clapped a hand over her mouth, and dragged her to lie back down in the grass beside him, she stilled and relaxed. He released her mouth and stroked a little pattern on her collarbones.
It felt good—too good.
“Just relax for a minute,” he encouraged. “Don’t let what we’ve done go to waste. This is sometimes just as good as the moment of ecstasy itself.” He seemed almost surprised when he admitted this.
“Do you not often lie like this afterward?” she asked him, laying one hand on his chest. The silk of his waistcoat was soft beneath her fingers, and she marveled at the intricate stitching of the beautiful garment.
“I…not usually,” he said with a sigh. “I rarely feel this…sated.” A little smile curved his lips, and for some reasons Alex loved that smile more because it wasn’t forced, nor was it false. He was being himself with her, just Ambrose, not a rake intent on leaving a trail of broken hearts behind him.
She and Ambrose lay together, bodies pressed close, their breaths mingling, neither of them speaking. Every few minutes her body would twitch, her inner muscles spasming with an aftershock of pleasure.
“I take it that was your first time to climax?” Ambrose asked after a moment. She gave a shaky nod. “And what did you think?”
Alex laughed softly. “I can see why people are always guarding us unmarried ladies from men like you. You’re dangerous.This”—she waved between their bodies—“is dangerous.”
Ambrose tightened his arm on her waist and sighed. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
She thought they would get up soon, but Ambrose kept hold of her, and she liked feeling so close to him. He brushed a stray curl away from her cheek.
“Alex, why haven’t you been to London? You didn’t debut. The daughter of an earl would be in high demand during the season.” The backs of his knuckles stroked her cheek, and then he cupped her chin. His other hand toyed with the fabric of her gown, the actions far too intimate, the sort of thing a lover would do.
“I don’t care for London. I like the country.”
“Alex,” he warned softly. “I know it’s more than that. You’ve never made an attempt on the marriage mart. Why?”
Alex flushed. She didn’t want to talk about Marshall or how her heart had never recovered from the pain of his breaking off their secret engagement. Going to London would mean facing Marshall and her past heartache.
“I should go. We’ve been gone too long already. Someone might notice.”
Ambrose sat up, eyeing her skeptically. “You’re allowed to have your secrets, sweetheart. Lord knows I’ve enough secrets to fill an entire townhouse on Half Moon Street. But people are talking.”
“People are talking?” Lord, she sounded shrill. “What people?”
“People.” He glanced away.
“Who?” She grabbed his neckcloth and yanked, catching his attention.
“The men in the clubs.”
