Her fingers played with the silken, too-long hair at the nape of his neck. “Tell me. Show me. I want you now. Here.”
“You want me here?” His head dipped. His lips replaced the place where his touch had just skimmed. “You want me now?”
His mouth opened on her flesh, sucking.
“Yes.” White-hot heat trilled down her spine. The warmth of the sun’s rays overhead could not compete with the fire spreading through her.
“More. Tell me more.”
Longing burst forth, opening like a tightly furled bud into a blossom. But that was not all.
There was also desire.
He was a potent, decadent lure, this wicked man.
Love and lust collided, becoming one.
“I am not just falling in love with you,” she whispered as his lips traced a path of reverence along her collarbone. “I fear I already have.”
“I feel the same. Damn, Tilly. What is this between us?” He grasped her bodice and tugged.
Her gown and chemise slipped down her arms, exposing her breasts.
The shock of the sunlight upon her bare skin, her most intimate self revealed, startled her. She was bare-breasted in the gardens of Coddington Hall, and with a man who was not her husband. The head gardener or a servant could come upon them at any time.
Somehow, that fact did nothing to quell the ache thrumming to life within her.
“It is the strongest bond I have ever known with another,” she told him softly.
Her nipples were hard, but she felt no shame in her body’s response to him. Between her legs, she was slick. Ready for him. Oh, how he affected her, this man she should not want. It was wrong and yet so very right.
“Tell me why I should not suck your pretty nipples here in the midst of the gardens where anyone could come upon us.”
There were any number of reasons why he should not. However, she could not bring herself to give voice to a single one for fear he would heed her.
“I shan’t,” she said, wondering who this bold woman was, taking over her. Spurring him on. “I want you to. Do it now, please.”
And he obeyed.
With a growl, he sucked the greedy peak of one breast into his hot, wet mouth. Longing arced through her, sharp and undeniable. Quite likely, she should not be doing this. She should tell him to stop. There was no need to set tongues below stairs wagging.
His tongue flicked over her nipple, lapping at her.
The liquid rush of her desire took her by surprise. Her every sense was incredibly heightened. Never had she made love out of doors before. Her hands fluttered to Robin’s shoulders, so broad and strong and capable.
She arched her back, surrendering to the gentle suction of his mouth, to the gloriousness of the summer day surrounding them. To the sweet scent of flowers in the air, to the sunshine. To something rare and unusual and true.
Tolove.
He released her nipple. “You taste so sweet, Tilly. Everywhere.”
Before she could form a response, he moved to her other breast, drawing on the taut bud until she feared her knees would betray her and send her sprawling to the pathway. Her only reply was a soft sigh, torn from her. Her arms remained pinned to her sides by the sleeves of her gown and chemise. Though she could easily slide the garments back into place, there was something about being on display for him, his captive and yet not, her breasts thrust like offerings toward his handsome face, that heightened her desire.
“So beautiful,” he praised, caressing the skin he had revealed with his callused hands.
And she wondered again at the reasons for those imperfections, what manner of work he had been about to cause them. But it did not matter, did it? Only sensations did.
Robin kissed his way back to her throat, finding the place behind her ear where she had never known she was so sensitive. His fingers replaced his mouth, toying with her nipples, thumbs rolling over them in lazy circles as he tongued the hollow that drove her mad.
