She let her head fall back, words inaccessible in the heat of her arousal.
He seemed to understand, kissed her again then paused. “Do you need me to touch you?”
“Yes,” she breathed, shimmering with gratitude.
“Where, sweetheart?” He skimmed his hand up her side, over her breast. “Here?”
She nodded, unable to think while he stroked and fondled her corseted flesh, bringing her nipples to hard points. The ache in her core only intensified, swelled to unbearable intensity.
“Is that enough? Or do you want more?” His words were smoky, rough yet tender.
“More.” The word was a gasp, an exhalation in itself.
“Here?” He squeezed the soft globe and dragged his thumb over her peaked nipple, sending a lightning strike directly to her center.
She shook her head. “Yes—no, I need…”
“Do you need my hand between your legs?” he whispered against her lips, his hips stuttering as he shifted his thigh between her knees. “Is that it?”
He lifted his leg to grind his thigh against her heated center, but the friction wasn’t enough with her layers of skirts in between. “Yes,please!”
His hand was already moving, tugging and lifting the heavy fabric separating them, but he paused. “Darling, you need to tell me when to stop. I—Iwantyou, so badly, and I…” He trailed off, shook his head. “Please tell me when tostop.”
She channeled every lesson from those dreadful tutors, because every single time she’d tried to speak properly, she’d been so petrified of failing that she always had. With Archie, her only fear was regretting what could have been, and she wanted this sentence to be perfect.
She dragged her palm down his arm, clasped his hand and slid it up her leg towards her throbbing core. “I don’t want you to stop.”
Chapter 4
Forthefirsttimein his two and a half decades on earth, Archie Grant had nothing to say. His mind had turned to porridge, shoved unapologetically into the rubbish bin to allow his cock full control.
Because this woman—this unexpected, intriguing, mysterious woman—had said,I don’t want you to stop.
“Darling,” he managed, his mental porridge clearing enough that he could ensure her consent. “That’s vague, love. I need to know what you want, exactly.”
Her hands trembled as they released the buttons of his waistcoat and shirt, and he hissed when her fingertips brushed the bare skin of his chest. The low light caught on the pearlescent crescents of her nails, short and ragged on her slim digits.She works with her hands, he’d thought the first time she removed her gloves, yet another piece that didn’t fit in the puzzle that was his mysterious Mary. He hadn’t missed the divot on her finger, evidence of whereshe’d worn a wedding ring, but there was no ring now. What heartache had she endured? What about her life made her believe she didn’t deserve to be heard, to be cherished? He hated everything about that, and wanted nothing more than to sit her down and make her explain herself, let him fix whatever had broken.
A bolt of guilt stabbed at him. He should ask her more, know more about her before they did this, but then her fingers reached the buttons of his trousers, and his thoughts burned away like morning fog.
“I want…” She leaned forward, pressed her lips to the base of his throat as her hands skimmed over his bare chest. He purred at the sensation. “I can’t say it.”
He caught her chin and lifted, met her mouth with his. “Do you still want me to touch you?” His grip on her hip shifted to cup the curve of her bottom, and he pulled her against him, restraining himself from grinding his rigid cock against her. “Taste you?”
“T-taste…” she breathed, the sound full of wonder. “Yes, that is, t-t-touch me.”
He didn’t like the stammer in her voice. Was she uncertain? His fingers twitched with the need to feel her, but he bit his lip, held himself in check. He knew with confidence that her vulnerability was a gift, and he wouldn’t take it for granted. “Where, love? Tell me.”
She kept her lips against his neck, her breathing ragged and hot, as she shifted, pulling up her skirts further. “Here,” she whispered, rolling her hips forward, then took his hand from her hip and put it behind her knee. “Here.”
The months of relative celibacy were making themselves known as his cock pulsed with awareness, his entire body screaming at him totake, take, take, but she was too precious to rush, too important already to waste a second of the pleasure.
But now her mound pressed against his thigh, and the heat of her core scalded him through the rough fabric of his trousers. “Lord, you do need to come. You’re aching for it,” he murmured, grinding against her and relishing her soft moan of assent. “I’m going to touch you between your legs, love. Rub that sweet pearl of yours until you come apart. Is that what you need?”
“Yes,” she gasped, nodding vigorously and kissing him, as though thrilled he’d known. “Make me come.”
He would give her everything, now and every day, for the rest of his existence. Now that he had her in his arms, the wordsmake me comeringing in his ears like a mantra from some carnal deity above (or below, he wasn’t picky), he wondered if he’d been destined to find her. Perhaps his entire life, every twist and turn, had been leading to her. Something about this woman spoke to him, made his body and heart sing in tandem. He’d never experienced this feeling of connection before, this sense ofrightnessthat he couldn’t define.
“Arms around my neck, love,” he said, and as soon as she did, he lifted her by her bottom, carried her across the room to the leather chair where he sat with her straddling his lap. “You’re going to ride my hand,” he said, and her lips parted on a gasp. “Do you want that?”
