Looking at him now, it almost seemed as though hewantedher to return inside; as though, despite the fact he’d brought her out here to—well, do something—he wasn’t certain he wanted to.
Except, that spark in his eyes told her hedidwant her. And she so desperately craved being wanted, even if this was just tonight. Even if he didn’t know whom it was he wanted.
They took a path through the gardens, past giggling couples and quiet rendezvous, until they reached the centre of the maze. It was barely lit, and in the darkness, Theo felt as though she was somewhere far more scandalous than on a walk with her husband. She had to remind herself that no one knew it was them.
A statue of a nymph poured water into a fountain, and Theo looked at it, gilded in moonlight.
What am I doing?
The nymph, unsurprisingly, had no answer.
Nathanial touched her arm, drawing her attention back to him. “Now, my muse,” he said, running his fingers along her jaw. “Do you want to know what you inspire in me?”
This was her point of no return. If she asked to return to the ballroom, he would take her.
If she asked for more, he would give it.
Her breath caught in her throat as she nodded. “Perhaps you might show me, my lord,” she whispered.
His gaze darkened. “I’m not a lord,” he said, and kissed her.
Before, their kiss had been soft, gentle, delicate.
There was nothing soft about this; his mouth crushed hers, one hand possessive at the back of her neck, angling her head so he could open her mouth. He consumed her, demanding everything she could give. And she offered it freely, melting against the forcefulness of his kiss, letting her chest press against his. There was so much to a male body she hadn’t explored before. She ran her hands along the line of his shoulders,marvelling at the way he allowed her to touch him so brazenly. The back of his neck was warm and soft, tiny curls clustered on his neck. They were silken against her fingers.
He broke away from the kiss and turned his attention to her neck. She tilted her head back and looked at the diamond-encrusted sky. Clouds concealed the moon, but the stars were still there, twinkling down at her. The world was so big, and she so small—she felt suddenly the absurdness of allowing one person to consume her so utterly.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, in a voice that was both gently mocking and heavy with desire. “Would you like to stop?”
The stars could not draw such a precious moment from her.
“No.” The word was breathless. “I want . . .” She did not know how to answer, but that didn’t matter; Nathanial understood her request and kissed her again. His mouth was hard and angry, lust and rage combined, but his knuckles grazed her lower cheek, the space left bare by her mask, in a soft gesture that melted her heart.
In return, she slid her hands through his hair, cupping his head to hers, offering herself up to him like a goblet of wine. His eyes were dark, intoxicated, and she had no doubt hers were the same.
He was everything. More than everything.
She skimmed her fingers down his spine and around to his chest. His hands stilled on her as she explored, dipping under his waistcoat until only a thin layer separated her questing fingers from his hot skin and the muscles that tightened with her touch.
As she dug her fingers into his side, he grunted and moved again, running his palm up her stomach until he reached her breast. His thumb brushed her nipple, and she gasped.
“You are delectable,” he murmured, licking down her neck. She shuddered. “You are sweet. You are irresistible.” Hebreathed the last word as though he could hardly believe he was saying it. Her fingers tightened in his shirt, pulling him inexorably closer, and he pressed her against the statue’s white base. Above her, the nymph continued to pour, the sound of trickling water unceasing, offset only by their panting breaths. She waspanting. Each breath was a gasp, coaxed from her by his ceaseless hands. First, they explored her breasts criminally slowly. Then, when she was concerned she might catch alight, he slid his hands down her waist, past the flare of her hips and down her thighs. Heat pooled between her legs.
“This dress seems somewhat in the way,” he said against her neck, drawing up her skirts so he could access her bare skin. “This is better.”
This was, in Theo’s opinion, entirely too much. As his fingers skated closer to the apex of her legs, she gripped his arms until it must have hurt. “Uh,” she managed.
He paused seconds before touching herthere, in the place she most needed—and most dreaded—him to be. “Yes, my muse?”
What could she say? If she intended to go back to the house, she should have said so long before they reached this point.
And his fingers were so close. The terrible ache inside her longed to be appeased, and she knew that Nathanial, who had no doubt experienced this with countless ladies, knew precisely how to satiate it.
The thought sent a weight to the base of her stomach, but she merely shifted against him, searching for those fingers.
“I see,” he said, and kissed her again. He removed that hand, to her disappointment, and instead lifted her bodily in the air. Her skirts were around her thighs and her legs were bare, which meant she could wrap them around his waist, locking her ankles and holding him against her. He laughed—a hard, edged sound—and pressed her more firmly against the statue. With one hand, he removed the skirts that piled between them,so the sensitive flesh at the apex of her thighs rubbed against his breeches.
And, more pertinently, a hard, thick ridge that pressed against her core. His breath was harsh as she shifted her hips, searching for the place that might offer the most pleasure.
