She knew he did not.
“Do you trust me, Lydia?”
Her eyes were adjusted to the darkness on the floor now, and she could almost make out his features. “Of course, I do,” she answered softly. Despite everything, she would always trust him with her life.
But his next words gave her pause.
“Walk forward on your knees.” He was still holding her hips but was now urging her to move. “Grab the straps by the window.” She already knew he was aroused by their position, in fact, she was becoming quite educated as to this particular phenomenon. Then why? “And hold onto them tightly.”
He was gathering her skirts again, pushing them up and urging her higher, toward his...
But if she kept inching forward like this…
His hands on her bare thighs kept her moving, and then lifted her.
If the rocking of the carriage hadn’t sent her hands suddenly grasping for the straps, the sensation of Jeremy’s whiskers along her inner thigh would have done so.
Gripping them, she went to pull herself up.
“Trust me?” His words drifted up from beneath her skirts at the same time the heat of his breath warmed the place between her legs.
Where she knew she was wet from moments before.
“I do but— Ah… ah…” She squeezed the leather straps when intense pleasure shocked her into acquiescence. “You shouldn’t! Oh, good heavens! Jeremy!” She nearly melted when she felt his jaw graze over her apex followed by a hot, wet stroke of his tongue.
Except he chose that moment to pause. “Shall I continue?” His voice vibrated her insides intimately.
“Um… Please?” This.
It felt too good.
He couldn’t stop now. She would die. She would simply die!
He chuckled beneath her, and Lydia jumped.
“Come back here.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” With the side of her face pressed against the cool glass of the window, she was determined not to fall apart. He’d said he wanted to taste her, but she’d had no idea he’d meant—she simply had had no idea.
The same feelings she’d had when they broke the vase were building steadily again. And then not so steadily. Because with each stroke and thrust he made below her, she pictured him there. His tongue. The whiskers along his jaw. The image itself was enough?—
“Yessssss!” Hot and cold lightning shot through her veins. The leather slipped through her fingers as sharp pleasure took hold and she all but collapsed, trying to move off him while mumbling an incoherent apology.
“I’ve got you, love,” he answered beneath her skirts, adding something that sounded like, “and I’m never letting you go.” But she couldn’t be certain.
When she finally discovered her muscles again, she squirmed, and he assisted her down to lay beside him.
The carriage wasn’t all that wide, forcing him to bend his legs up and her to lay half on top of his chest, one leg thrown over his waist.
She wasn’t the slightest bit uncomfortable. Not even when he turned to claim her mouth, and she tasted herself in his kiss. Being with him was… It was wonderful.
“That was… unexpected.” She had to say something. They couldn’t roll around Mayfair all night, after all.
“I’ve been imagining that for three days now.”
“You haven’t!”
“Planned this very scenario.”
