“Is this new?” he whispered.
“Everything is new with you.”
He grinned, loving the breathiness in her words. He used his free hand to press her head to the side so that he could kiss down her neck. She arched into him, letting him tease along her jaw and throat. He nipped at her, timed with a squeeze of her nipple.
She gasped in surprise, and he pressed her backward to give him better access.
Damn it, why had he sent her a dress that buttoned down the back? He wanted to taste her breasts, to suck on her nipples, and to feel that moment when her legs spread for him. Already he was tonguing across the line of her bodice. She was trembling beneath him, her hands clutching him in a rhythmic pulse that echoed his own.
He could bring her to climax right here, right now. All he need do was slip his fingers inside her quim. He began to do just that only to realize she wore pants. Damn it, clothing everywhere.
She was almost prone on the table, his left arm supporting her shoulders as he stepped between her thighs. He wanted to rip her attire apart and thrust himself inside. If he had leverage, he might have, but she lay on his arm, and he had a shred of honor left to him.
So he focused on her pleasure. He set the heel of his hand to the junction of her thighs. She was already gripping him with her knees. It was easy to press in to where she wanted. To thrust as he would with his hips, to circle over her nub while she gasped. And to listen to her sounds as she climbed the heights of arousal.
He wanted her naked. He wanted to see her breasts bob as she gasped, to feel her wetness covering his cock. But he had to content himself with her gasps of surprise, and her mews of desire.
Her hips began pulsing into him, her back arching as her eyes fluttered. God, his cock throbbed, but he took delight in watching her.
He pulled his hand out from under her. He shaped her breast as best he could through the fabric. And he squeezed her nipple when he found it.
“Feel it,” she rasped. “Feel me!”
He dug his thumb between her folds. God, the fabric was soaking wet. Her belly quivered, her mouth parted. He pulsed against her mound, thrusting hard and circling. Once more. Once…
She cried out. The sound wasn’t loud, thank God. But the sight was as explosive as if she had screamed. Her body undulated beneath him, her breasts pushing against his hand while the tremors burst through her.
He watched while his cock screamed its own demands. He nearly scooped her up to carry her straight to his bed.
He didn’t. Instead, he watched the magnificent pulses roll through her body. He reveled in the length of them and markedthe slow dying pulse as they eased. He watched her eyes flutter as she came back to herself. And he felt her knees tighten against his thighs as awareness of her position returned.
He stepped back slowly. Then he eased her upright and resettled her clothing.
She was quiet and her gaze wouldn’t settle. She looked down at herself then at his hands, then darted up to his face before dashing away again. She opened her mouth a few times as if she wanted to speak, but no words came.
Just as well. He didn’t know what to say either.
So he touched her face, bringing it up until her gaze settled on him.
What was he to say? That she’d just given him the most erotic experience of his life? That only the thinnest shred of honor was keeping him from taking her right here, right now? Her lips were so red and her chest was still flushed rosy above her bodice. Such beauty and so many things he could teach her.
Unable to stop himself, he kissed her again. He angled her head and thrust into her mouth with all the need that burned through him. And then he forced himself to back away.
Only a base roue took pleasure from a woman in his own household. He was not such a man, and yet need burned him.
“That,” he rasped, “is passion.”
She blinked at him. Her mouth parted, but what was she to say to that? He didn’t even know what he meant by those words.
He took another step backwards, the motion jerky as he forced himself to move away.
“I’ll be upstairs for a bit now,” he said. “I need to change before going to my club.”
What the hell was he talking about?
“It should take about an hour.”
What should? Reliving every exquisite moment of what they’d just done? That would likely linger in his thoughts for the rest of his life.
