“Nowhere,” he said. And then he pulled her chair so that it was facing him.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice jumping. But he knew it wasn’t fright but desire. He could hear her breath hitching.
“Getting to know my fiancée,” he said, sinking to his knees.
“My God, get up! Someone might walk in.”
“I don’t care,” he said, pressing his face into the folds of her light morning dress. The heat coming off her body was delicious—and her scent was the same as last night, with the addition of fresh pastry and chocolate. He moved his head so that his breath enveloped her core.
“Trem,” she said, her fingers sliding into his hair. “I don’t know how I can want you so badly. You think I would have had enough after yesterday. For at least the next twenty-four hours.”
“Shhh,” he said, “you’ll have me. And you have no idea how I can’t wait to have you in my bed every night. It was torture sleeping last night without you.”
She let out a whimper at these words. He could smell her arousal through her dress. He knew that if he went to touch her now, she would already be wet.
“But right now I want to know something else,” he said, his hand grasping her ankle. She startled at his touch and then sunk into it. “I want to know if you always wanted me.”
He let his hands glide up her leg until they were at the tops of her thighs. He grasped her thighs between his hands, palming the soft skin.
Her breath was coming fast already. He loved how she responded to him. So ready and willing.
“Since I’ve known what wanting was,” she said. He froze at the words. They stunned him. He hadn’t expected her to admit that. He had imagined, after some careful ministrations from him, that she would admit to a small crush. But she had obliterated his expectations.
His cockstand was now at full mast. He had only planned to give her a covert orgasm with his fingers, confirm their wedding date, and be on his way. But she had shredded that plan with those words.
“Is that so?” he said, bringing her skirt to her knees and kissing the exposed skin. Around her knees. Between her legs. How could a woman’s knees stoke his lust? And yet here he was, panting at the sight of them.
“Yes. I remember when I realized. I was fourteen. And you came to Edington…” Her breath broke as he placed his mouth at her core. Over her undergarments, she tasted like fresh linen and Henrietta—that tart apple taste, so unique, so special to her. “You helped me with the Christmas baskets.”
“I remember,” he said, breathing her in, his cock throbbing. “It was too much responsibility at such an age.”
“No, I wanted it,” she said, her breath breaking up her speech, her voice threading in and out. “I wanted to do it, yet I put it off. But you saved me. It was that age. Fourteen. Things could be so lonely at the Hall when John was not there. And you were so kind and handsome.”
As a reward for her words, he opened his mouth and touched his tongue to her core through the fabric. He suspected that her clit was right there and, from how she jumped at the contact, he knew he was right.
“Not here.”
“Yes, here. Now tell me what you thought of me. Back then.”
“I fell in love with you. But I knew I was too young for you. That my love was useless.”
The words pierced his heart. And, for a moment, they stunned him. She loved him. He had known that she wanted him, that she had agreed to marry him, but he had not been sure if she loved him. But now, as it turned out, she had loved him since she was fourteen years old. It was too much good fortune for one man.
“You were too young for me,” he said, into her thighs. “Far too young.”
Through the thin cloth, he touched his tongue to her clit again. She moaned in response, sending shivers of desperate want to his own hardened length. Between his mouth and her own moisture, her undergarment was extremely wet. He opened his mouth and sucked harder, drawing another moan from her.
“Oh God, Trem. You’re going to make me—”
“Shh,” he said into her thighs. “You have to be quiet or the footmen will think I’m ravishing you.”
“You are ravishing me,” she panted, and he laughed into the apex of her thighs.
He brought his mouth to the plump little bud and sucked again through the fabric before beginning a slow assault of little licks. She writhed in the chair and the fabric grew wetter and wetter.
“And tell me—”
“Don’t stop,” she panted. “No.”
