The words evoked her imagination, and she felt her body growing aroused. Her breasts were tight beneath her chemise, and she felt her breathing hasten.
Matthew palmed her spine, arching against her. She felt every hard inch of him thrusting with only a thin layer of linen between them. In her mind, she could imagine him freeing himself from his trousers, finding the slit between her undergarments, and sliding in deep. She closed her eyes, afraid of the wild thoughts that conjured within her mind.
“I want to touch you intimately,” he said, slipping his tongue inside her mouth. He entered and withdrew, and she ached for this man.
Lily pulled back from his kiss, trying to gather her sanity from this madness. But she remembered too well the ecstasy of his hands upon her. He drew his hand lower, down to her right ankle, and she bit her lip at the silent question.
He didn’t move, and she understood he would not push her too far. But she wanted this man, and her body was eager for him.
She reached down to his hand and guided it higher, over her stockings to her pantalettes. He brought his other hand there and palmed her bottom, kneading it gently. She rocked against him, his shaft pressing her until she felt a shimmering sensationbuilding. When Matthew’s bare hand touched her womanhood, she let out a half-sob of wrenching need. He had found the slit, and now his fingers were against her intimate flesh.
She shouldn’t allow this—not after all that had happened. But he bent forward and took her ear lobe in his mouth, just as he stroked the cleft of her.
“You’re wet for me, Lily.” His voice held years’ worth of frustration, but he found the center of her pleasure and caressed it gently. “Do you want me to pleasure you?”
“Y-yes,” she gasped. And though it was wanton, she was caught up beneath his spell. He delved two fingers inside her, stroking the hooded flesh with his thumb. She began to tremble, her nails digging into his shoulders. Without shame, she sat against him, burying his fingers inside her before rising up. It was an exquisite torture, and her mind fantasized that his shaft was buried within her body.
“That’s it,” he murmured in her ear. “Imagine you are riding me, Lily.”
She moved her hips in counterpoint, and the rise of sensation overtook her, spiraling higher and higher. She was arching against him, her body trembling. He pressed against the pearl of her, and she felt the intensity gather into a ball of white-hot pleasure, spearing through her senses, until she sobbed against him.
“More,” he demanded, stroking and touching her until the shuddering broke over her, and she erupted in a breathtaking release. She was so wet against his fingers, her body spasming as he thrust and withdrew his hand.
Lily came a second time when he captured her mouth, kissing her hard as he penetrated her with his fingers and pressed against her center. A gasp escaped her, but he silenced her cries with his mouth, letting her ride out the storm of the orgasm.
Lily had forgotten the reckless pleasure of being in his arms. Right now, she felt as if every muscle had gone fluid within her. If she tried to move, her knees would buckle beneath her.
Drawing back, she looked into his brown eyes and saw only desire. He spoke no promises, but only held her.
And she wondered exactly what she had started between them.
Two days later
“You have a caller, my lord.”
Matthew glanced up from his ledgers, wondering if it was Lily who had come to visit. He yearned to have her back in his life, at his side. They belonged together. Somehow, she had managed to forgive him for his sins, making him want to be a better man for her sake.
“Who is it?” he asked the footman.
“A lady who calls herself Miss Carlisle. She said she had sent you several letters, and there was no reply. Should I tell her you are not at home?”
He tensed at the mention of the blackmailer’s name. It seemed that ignoring her actions had not silenced her. It was best to meet the problem face to face.
“Show her in,” he told the servant.
He stood from his chair, fully prepared to throw the woman out, once he reassured her that he would not pay anything for her silence. If his father had indulged in an affair, it was over. He refused to have anything to do with a mistress.
But the woman who entered his study was not at all the sort he’d expected. She was dressed in a black serge gown, and she appeared to be in her mid-fifties. The lines of her face heldweariness and suffering, and he half expected her to drop to her knees in prayer. And there was a familiarity about her, as if he had seen this woman somewhere before.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me, my lord,” Miss Carlisle began. “I understand that you may not have received my letters.”
“I received them,” he said curtly. “That does not mean I intend to pay you any blackmail money. Whatever secrets my father was trying to keep do not matter. He is dead, and we have gone on with our lives. As must you.”
Her brown eyes held sadness. “I did know Lord Arnsbury well, long ago. I was young and foolish and fancied myself in love with him. I thought he would marry me after I was caught in a compromising position, but he refused.” Shame darkened her cheeks. “He decided to wed Charlotte instead.”
A sudden uneasiness caught his gut, though he could not understand why. He had already guessed that this woman was one of his father’s old paramours. But why would she return now, believing he would pay her anything?
“Have you never wondered why your eyes are brown, like mine?” she murmured. “Neither Lord Arnsbury nor Lady Arnsbury has the same color as ours. We look like one another, do we not?”
