“Then lift your skirts to your waist,” he said.
* * *
Julianna stared down at Sidney,the man she had loved from afar for so long, on his knees before her, his big hands slowly setting her on fire as they caressed her through the voluminous skirt of her gown. He was Viscount Shelbourne, she reminded herself. Her closest friend’s older brother. Debonair and elegant and so terribly handsome without even trying, his air one of easy perfection and charm. He was the gentleman every lady longed for. The only gentleman she, in particular, had ever wanted.
And she was terrified that she trusted him as much as she did. Her life had been marked by disappointment and—aside from Hellie—people who did not care for her when they should have. People who held her close when it suited them and then pushed her away when it did not. People such as Mama and Father who both, she had come to suspect, used her as a weapon against each other in one fashion or another.
But Sidney was on his knees before her, imploring with those emerald eyes she had fallen into so many times, touching her, telling her everything she wanted to hear. Looking at her as if she were beloved to him. Whatever it was he wanted, she was going to give it to him. Even herself. Whatever he asked, it was his. She was his. She always had been.
Eyes on his, she grasped her skirts in her fists, clutching handfuls of silk, and raised them slowly. Inch by inch. He had seen much of her before in the lake. And yet, he rested back on his bent knees, releasing his hold on her thighs to watch. The ribbon-trimmed hem slid past her shins. Cool night air kissed her skin through her stockings. Higher still, revealing her frilled drawers. She hesitated for only a moment before bunching all the layers of fabric around her waist and holding it there.
She kept her knees tightly together, shielding the most intimate part of her from his view. There was nary a hint of her bare flesh on display, and yet she felt gloriously, wickedly naked before him. The way his gaze caressed her, taking in every bit of her from toe to hip, made all the coiled anticipation unleash itself within her, and so too a blinding rush of desire.
She wanted him so badly, she would do anything to have him.
“Christ, Julianna.” His hands were upon her once more, starting at her ankles and gliding over her calves. “You are a goddess.”
She felt like one beneath his ardent attentions. “Sidney.”
He caressed past her knees, leaving a maddening trail of fire in his wake as he moved higher, worshipping her thighs. “Part your legs for me.”
His command was wicked. She could tell him no, push him away. Julianna knew that. She could flee, run from the temple, disappear into the night and pretend these boundaries had never been crossed.
But she did not want to.
Instead, what she wanted more than anything—more than her next breath, even—was more of every sin he was visiting upon her. And then some.
She did as he asked, knowing it was wrong. No lady would reveal herself to a man who was not her betrothed or husband, would she? Julianna thought not. However, her capacity to deny herself what she wanted most—Sidney—was quickly dissipating. And the more he ran his hands over her, the higher the flames of her need grew.
His head lowered. His hands remained on her thighs, but his mouth—oh! Although her stockings and drawers kept her bare skin from him, it hardly mattered. His lips were on her, kissing up her shins, to her knees. He caressed her inner thighs, parting them more, until the split of her undergarments sent night air over her, and she knew she was exposed to him, utterly.
But any embarrassment lingering was banished by his groan of sheer appreciation.
“You are so damned beautiful, Julianna,” he said. “Everywhere.”
She believed him. He made her feel beautiful. Incomparable. He made her feel so much more than she had ever known possible.
And then he made her feel more.
His mouth was on her, moving, a promise, a temptation, a tease. Until she was almost writhing on the bench, desperate for more.Dear heavens, she had never imagined. Had never supposed…
Lips closed over her, sucking.
Her hips bucked. The most exquisite sensation rocked through her, beginning at her core and spiraling out. She moved against him, a gasp leaving her when something else happened.
His tongue.
Dear. Sweet. Merciful. Heavens. Above.
His tongue was everywhere. Moving in rapid strokes, then slower and more leisurely, savoring her, harder and then softer, licking her up as if she were a delicacy laid before him. It was forbidden and yet so very delicious. Nothing had prepared her for this rush of feeling. For bliss so fervent and sudden, she lost control of herself.
A moan tore from her lips. She clutched her skirts so tightly she was certain the wrinkles would be irreparable. And she did not give a damn. Not about her skirt, not about the wrongness of their actions, not about anything but his mouth on her, the pleasure he gave her.
She wanted that tongue everywhere she could have it. And she never wanted him to stop. It was sudden, the rush that came over her, taking her by surprise. She quaked beneath his mouth, writhing against him, trying to get him deeper, harder, faster.
“Oh, Sidney,” she cried out, stiffening.
He groaned into her sex. “Yes, love. Spend on my tongue.”
