“Mouth.” She tried to say the word, but nothing came out. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Your mouth.”
He glanced up with a wicked expression. “Don’t rush me.” He touched her boldly, using both of his hands now, lifting, kneading, rubbing. When he pinched her, she could not control her response. She groaned. Her neck could barely hold her head up anymore. She felt heavy… everywhere.
He’d returned one of his hands to her back, catching her, clasping her, while his other hand continued its perfect onslaught. From under her lashes, she watched his dark head dip. His mouth was on her throat, and then lower… He trailed it between her breasts. Very short whiskers scraped against her skin.
Emily’s hands settled in his hair. This was nothing like what she’d seen in the library that night. This felt more like a form of worship.
Worship and exquisite torture.
Her mind searched to make sense of it. How could torture be so… magnificent, so breathtaking?
Oh, God. Moist heat pulled at her breast. Laving, testing. And then he tugged at her, harder, longer, deeper.
White fire exploded behind her eyes, whipping and spinning her into an unknown vortex. The sensation was inexplicable. Unable to breathe, she couldn’t prevent the cries that escaped from deep inside. She jerked and throbbed and whimpered, utterly vulnerable, at the mercy of her own body, until the foreign spasms subsided.
Marcus rocked her. Shushing her. Reassuring her.
She buried her face against his chest, clutching at his shirt. What had come over her? Surely, that couldn’t have beenla petite mort. She’d read about it but the literature she’d found had indicated such a phenomenon to be rare and requiring a different sort of stimulation, clitoral stimulation.
It was too much to contemplate right now, though. She’d ask Marcus about it later. She felt boneless, utterly spent. She’d move in a moment. She’d climb off him and return to her side of the bench.
In a minute, she prodded herself… and then immediately snuggled into his chest and drifted off to sleep.
His arm was numb, and his legs were cramped but Marcus didn’t want to wake her. He needed to regroup. What had begun as an innocent experiment had quickly gotten out of hand.
She was a revelation.
She astounded him.
She just might prove more entertainingin bedthan she was out of it, and that was considerable. Maybe he wouldn’t be so quick to abandon her in the country.
She snuggled into him and murmured something unintelligible. He ought to cover her, provide her with some modesty while she slept, but that might involve waking her.
He liked her like this. Quiet and kittenish. With her asleep, he didn’t have to constantly manage the waves of energy coming at him. Waves that consisted of curiosity, sensuality, and… anxiety.
Glancing down, he studied her. All that pent-up energy had exploded like a flint to gunpowder.
Would she have been the same with any man? Had she simply been waiting for one of the male species to come along and take care of her needs? This thought irked him.
He covered her breast with his hand protectively.
Despite the undeniably tender emotions attacking him, he wasn’t fool enough to believe this marriage would turn out to be anything more than one of convenience. Passions flared, sentiments faded. He’d seen it happen too many times to count.
But for now—he dropped a kiss on her hair—he’d enjoy her. They could take some pleasure from their circumstances, throw this sham of a marriage in his father’s face, and then live their separate lives.
Good thing she was such a practical miss.
He stared out the window and sighed. They had one and a half more days to travel. He wondered if he could keep her virtue intact that long.
Perhaps he should ride up top with the driver for a spell or two. This sort of proximity to Miss Emily Goodnight’s learning experiments could only lead them further into trouble. And as tempted as he was, he knew they’d best not risk anything until they actually tied the knot.
Emily awoke to an empty carriage. Instead of his chest, her head rested on a cloth pillow.
Where had Marcus gone?
Marcus!
She’d fallen asleep on him after… She shivered and then clasped her arms. Maybe she could pretend that nothing had happened. Maybe he’d be gentleman enough to go along with such a plan.
