Cool water droplets fell from somewhere above, landing on her bare thigh. She’d rucked her skirts to her waist without thinking, and now only his breeches separated them. She could feel him, thick and straining against the fabric, pressed exactly where she was wet and aching for him.
Then his fingers slid between her thighs and found her slick heat.
“Oh God.” The words rasped from her throat.
“You're so wet for me.” His breath was hot against her ear, the words sending shivers down her spine. “Do you feel what you do to me?”
He groaned as he stroked her slowly, maddeningly, circling the swollen bud that made her thighs tremble. Her hips began moving without her permission, chasing his touch, grinding down against the rigid length beneath her.
His lips found hers, and he kissed her like he was drowning. Like she was air.
When the pleasure crested again, she broke away, back arching, a moan spilling free. Every roll of her hips brought his handexactly where she needed it and pressed her aching sex against his hardness. The dual sensation was overwhelming.
His fingers moved faster. She rode his hand shamelessly, worked herself against him, beyond caring how wanton she must look.
“You have no idea how badly I need to be inside you,” he groaned, his free hand gripping her hip hard enough to bruise. “How much I want to feel you wrapped around my cock.”
That word sent another frisson of pleasure through her muscles. Her own hand slipped between their bodies, seeking him. When her fingers wrapped around the hard ridge straining against his breeches, she felt him pulse beneath her palm. Thick. Hot even through the fabric.
He bucked into her grip with a strangled curse. “Yes. Just like that.”
She wanted it bare. Wanted to feel that velvet-over-steel heat in her hand. Wanted to stroke him until he was as desperate as she was.
Trembling fingers worked at his buttons, tugging them free one by one. She slipped her hand inside his breeches and—
The climax slammed into her without warning.
Her hand closed around his thick, bare length just as pleasure surged through her core. She cried out, every muscle seizing, hergrip tightening on him as wave after wave crashed through her body.
“Catherine—Devil—" His hips jerked, and she felt him throb in her fist.
Then heat, slick and unmistakable, pulsed against her palm as he came undone beneath her.
The broken groan that tore from his chest sent aftershocks rippling through her. She collapsed against him, boneless and trembling, her hand still wrapped around him as he pulsed in her grip.
His arms locked around her, holding her as they both shook with the force of it.
“Christ,” he breathed into her hair, his chest heaving beneath her. “That was…”
She could feel his heart slamming against his ribs, as wild and unsteady as her own.
CHAPTER 17
They rode into Caerleon, Catherine sitting side-saddle in front of Gideon. He held the reins around her slender waist as she rested back against his chest.
The storm had passed over, though it could have swept them both away on a torrent and Gideon did not think he would have noticed. He enjoyed the feeling of Catherine’s soft body against his, relished her delicate embrace.
“Are we to dine together this evening?” she mumbled, tired.
“Yes, with the Threnthorpes,” he nodded once, “we were invited at the wedding breakfast. Did I not say?”
She shot up, pinning him with a level look.
“You didnot.”
Gideon shrugged. Caerleon was coming into sight, and there was still time to dress and take the carriage to the Threnthorpes’ house near St James. The wind of their passage was cold against his bare chest. While attempting to recover his shirt, he had dislodged it to be swept away by the stream. Perhaps some shepherd would use it to keep his sheep warm.
“Is this theneedyou spoke of?” Catherine arched her brow.
