“Shouldn’t I...do something?” she whispered in a strained voice. “Or do I just lie here and let you do it?”
He took her small hand in his, and he put it on his cock. She tried to shrink back but he held her there. Getting her used to the feel of him, the heat and hardness that needed her so desperately.
“This will never work,” she whispered.
“Trust me,” he said, when he knew that was the last thing she should do. He was about to ruin her, and he damned well couldn’t stop himself, particularly when her fingers wrapped around him and explored him until he was ready to explode.
And then he was over her, between her legs, heavy and hard and desperate.
Her tear-drenched eyes flew open. “I don’t…” She gasped. “I’m not ready… I’m afraid.”
He started to pull back, knowing he should, but she put her arms around him, pulling him close. “Don’t leave me.”
He wanted to growl his frustration. She was killing him, but he held still, so close to heaven and yet so far. She looked at him, and there was no hiding the fear in her eyes, and he began to pull away.
“I want you,” she said in a raw whisper, clinging to him, and his last qualm left him.
“Hush,” he said, and he pushed into her.
Her cry was short and sharp as he broke the barrier, and he held still for a moment to get her used to the feel of him. She was panting slightly, and he kissed her softly and sweetly, and she let out her breath, accepting his invasion, accepting him.
He could’ve finished then and there, but he was greedy. He wanted to make her climax again with him inside her, wanted everything from her, and he began to move.
He started to pull out, but she clutched at him. “Don’t… stop,” she gasped, and it took all his battered self-control, not to see slam inside her.
But he moved slowly, rocking her back and forth, drawing a nascent response from her. She felt so good beneath him, and he wanted more. He wanted her to love him, and she swore she did.
It changed faster than he could have imagined, the slow rocking turning into something fiercer. She was arching up to meet him, their bodies sweat-slick in the early morning air as he thrust into her, harder, deeper, needing her and everything she was, loving her.
Her cry signaled her release, and she tightened around him, pulling his own response from him. He pulled out, though it killed him to do so, and spilled on the warmth of her skin, holding her as she shuddered against him.
He didn’t give a damn about the mess; he pulled her against him, into his arms, listening to her racing heart, her rapid breathing, as he held her. For a moment, she was stiff in his arms, and then she sank against him, clinging to him.
“Did you survive?” he whispered when he found he could talk.
“I’m not sure,” she whispered back.
“Do you want to do it again?”
“Again?” she sounded horrified. And then she gave a rusty little laugh. “Yes, please.” And they did.
Chapter Twenty-Four
She was alone in the bed. Georgie opened her eyes, staring around the shadowy room. Daylight was filtering through the curtains, and she could hear the sounds of the city outside the window. She pushed herself up slowly.
She was achy, sticky, tired, and strangely close to tears. Where was Rafferty? No, she shouldn’t call him that—that was his butler’s name. He wasn’t her butler, he was her lover, and all sorts of conflicting thoughts assailed her. Where was he?
There was a knock on the door, and she quickly dove beneath the covers again, unaccountably shy of this man who’d done so much to her body. But to her shock it wasn’t Rafferty peering in the open door.
“You awake, miss?” the man said. “I’ve got a bath ready for you if you’d like, and Rafferty brought some clothes back from your house Then I’ll make you a nice hot breakfast and we’ll get you on your way.”
She stared at him, nonplussed. “Who are you?”
“I’m Rafferty’s man, Jenkins,” he said easily. “He told me to take care of you while he looked after business. I’ve got tea and toast first to give you a little sustenance. You must be tired.” There was no salacious meaning beneath the words, but Georgie could feel her face flush.
“Tea would be very nice,” she said in a choked voice.
He came in the room, carrying a small tray. He didn’t look like a servant, but then Rafferty didn’t look like a butler. “Rafferty’ll be back for you in an hour, so you can take your time, miss. Just don’t let the bath get cold.”
