“You may call me Della,” she breathed. “I think we’re past formality now, don’t you?”
She kissed him again, and he slid his hands down to cup her rear and pull them still tighter together. His cock was aching for release. “Someone will see us,” he warned. “There must be someplace else we can go.”
It was late enough that no one would be out walking the street, but there was nothing to protect them from a carriage returning from a neighbor’s fête or, worse, her family.
“Follow me.” She took him by the hand and led him around the side of her town house, to a gate that opened upon a narrow alleyway, barely three feet across. It led to a shared courtyard, enclosed on all sides by the other houses. She stopped just short of the exit and leaned back against the rough brick wall. Apparently this was the full extent of her plan. A darkened alley. “No one will see us here,” she explained. Lyman had to accept it, for he could barely see her himself, though he still clutched her hand.
He released his grip and placed an arm on either side of Miss Danby—Della, now—penning her in. He’d barely begun to kiss her again when her hand found his trousers, working at buttons thatseemed to take an hour to yield.
“What are you doing?” he groaned, though he knew full well. He just wanted to hear her say it.
“Taking pity on you.” He could hear the smile in her voice as the first button gave way.
Good God.He couldn’t talk after that. Couldn’t summon the strength to do anything except gasp for breath as she slid her hand inside and began to stroke. It took all his self-control to keep from spending himself the second her soft, warm skin made contact.
“Do you like that?” she murmured, in a voice thick and heavy with excitement.
“You have no idea,” he gasped. Her hand was like silk, her movements sure and knowing. She wasn’t a woman who hesitated to go after what she wanted, nor who felt any need to feign virginal innocence. He liked that about her.
She increased the pace of her attention, bringing him perilously close to climax already. Every nerve in his body was begging for more. He had to stop this before he lost control. “Enough,” he gasped, catching her hand in his own. “Give me a moment.”
He thought of Laurent’s Casino and how he’d craved her touch too badly to push her hand away when he’d meant to. It was much the same now, except that Della obeyed his request and slid her fingers gently back out of his falls. He shuddered.
“Even when you’re making love to a woman you have a hard time enjoying yourself, don’t you?”
“I’m enjoying myself,” he assured her. “Far too much.”
In truth, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so happy. The last time he let himself savor an experience without worrying about the expense or the work he should be finishing instead.
He kissed Della again, eager to show her the truth in his declaration. She melted into him, running her hands roughly up and downhis chest, now grabbing the end of his cravat to tug him closer. How could she be so uninhibited? So unbothered by what he or anyone else might think?
He’d never known anyone like her. It made him feel alive.
He needed to make her feel it too. Lyman began hiking up her skirts; a considerable task, as they were numerous.
“Someone might see us,” she hissed into his ear.
“This is no truer now than it was ten minutes ago,” he noted.
“Yes, but I’m not concerned aboutyourmodesty.” She chuckled, the sound dying abruptly as he found the slit in her drawers.
She was wet already, and Lyman slipped a finger inside her, thrilling at the hitch in her breath. She didn’t tense or grow nervous at his incursion. She groaned and relaxed into it, making no attempt to conceal her pleasure.
“Show me how you like to be touched,” he invited, even as he deepened his attentions to find that silken part of her that needed him.
She didn’t hesitate. “Harder.” With one hand, she found the back of his neck and pulled him down to meet her kiss. With the other, she guided his movements to a rougher pace before she released him to manage on his own.
He fell into a hypnotic rhythm, his tongue parting her lips above, his fingers parting her lips below, in time to the music of her rapid breath. With his free hand, Lyman cupped Della’s breast, tracing the tight peak of her nipple with his thumb.
“Your gown is downright indecent,” he accused her. “Do you know what you’re doing to me?”
“You scarcely looked at me all night!” she protested.
“Because I was worried that if I did, I wouldn’t be able to stop staring.” He let his lips roam down her throat, then lightly traced the top of her breasts. With greater focus than he’d thought remained tohim, Lyman reached around her back to undo the top few buttons of her gown, which fell open to expose her shift below. He pushed the thin muslin aside, exposing her to the night air. Della shivered as he bent his head to suck and tease at her nipple.
“Oh,” she groaned as she squirmed on his fingers. “Keep doing that. Exactly like that.”
“You are the most arousing woman I’ve ever met,” he breathed, the confession drawn from him without any forethought. It was true. He’d never known anyone who lived life so freely as she did, and even as it frightened him, it also transfixed him.
