“You’re making love to me?”
“Oh, yes, my darling girl.”
“Do you really think you should?”
“Absolutely. It’s the cure, after all, for what’s been ailing you.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“But I am. Your nausea, dear girl, was nothing more than a healthy desire…for me.”
She wanted him? But she didn’t even like him. Yet that would explain perfectly why she was enjoying this so much. Obviously, one didn’t have to like the object of one’s passion. And she had her answer. Talking, concentrating, getting her mind off what she was feeling, if only for a minute, hadn’t made any of it go away. It was all still there and wildly exciting. Yes, she wanted him, at least this one time.
You have my permission to proceed, Captain.
She didn’t say it aloud, for he would only be amused, and she didn’t want to amuse him just now. The thought had been for her conscience anyway. She communicated the same thing, however, subtly, by wrapping her arms around him. And he took the hint, quite swiftly, in fact.
Exciting? Not nearly explicit enough. He settled between her legs, and everything inside her seemed to roll over to make room for him. His lips returned to hers, then moved down her neck, down to her breasts. He raised himself. She regretted that. She liked his weight. But there was compensation, more pressure below, and, God, the heat there. And she could feel him, thick and hard, pressing into the heat, so tight, filling her, thrilling her. She knew his body, knew just what was entering hers. She wasn’t afraid…but then, no one had ever told her it would be painful.
She gasped, mostly in surprise, but there was no denying it. That had hurt.
“Captain, did I mention that I’ve never done this before?”
His weight had returned to her, had more or less collapsed on her. His face was turned toward her neck, his lips hot on her skin there.
“I believe I’ve just discovered that on my own,” she just barely heard him say. “And I think it would be permissible for you to call me James now.”
“I’ll consider it, but would you mind terribly if I asked you to stop now?”
“Yes.”
Was he laughing? His body was certainly shaking.
“Was I too polite?” she wanted to know.
There was no doubt that he was laughing now, loudly and clearly. “I’m sorry, love, I swear I am, but…Good God, the shock. You weren’t supposed to be…that is, you were too passionate…Oh, bloody hell.”
“Stuttering, Captain?”
“So it seems.” He raised up to lightly brush his lips across hers before he grinned down at her. “My dear, there’s no need to stop now, even if I could. But the damage is done, and your virgin’s pain is over.” He moved in her to prove it, and her eyes flared, for the movement was nothing but sensually pleasant. “So do you still want me to stop?”
This is for you, conscience. “No.”
“Thank God!”
His obvious relief made her smile. The kiss he treated her to then made her groan. Accompanied by the slow movement of his hips, the sensations built again gradually, but escalated and surpassed anything she’d felt before, until the crowning glory was upon her, exploding in tiny shocks that left her dazed. She’d cried out, but the sound had gone from her mouth to his, and as his own climax was reached, was given right back to her.
Still dazed, Georgina was having difficulty believing she’d felt what she did, that anything could feel like that. But she held fast to the man who had shown her what her body was capable of. Feelings of gratitude and tenderness mixed with something else that made her want to thank him, kiss him, tell him how magnificent he’d been, how euphoric she felt now. She didn’t, of course. She just continued to hold him, occasionally she caressed him, finally she kissed his shoulder so softly, he couldn’t possibly have noticed.
But he did notice. James Malory, connoisseur of women, jaded aristocrat, was in such a state of heightened awareness, he felt each and every little movement the girl made, and was touched by her tenderness more than he cared to admit. He’d never felt anything like it, and it was bloody well frightening.
Chapter Twenty-two
“Iunderstand now why people do this sort of thing.”
James sighed in relief. That was just what he needed to hear, some silly bit of nonsense to put things in their proper perspective. She was just a wench, albeit a prime piece. But she was no different from any other woman he’d set out to seduce. With the challenge gone, there was nothing left to hold his interest. So why didn’t he get off her and send her back to her own bed? Because he bloody well didn’t want to yet.
He rose up to his elbows to gaze down at her. Her skin was still flushed, her lips appeared well-ravaged. With his finger he gently tried to sooth them. And there was a soft look in her velvety-brown eyes that for some reason delighted him. It certainly wasn’t a look he was accustomed to from her. Usually her eyes expressed her nervousness, or frustration, or outright irritation, so amusing in her lad’s disguise…By God, he’d forgotten about that, her masquerade, her reasons for it. There was still the mystery of her to hold his interest, wasn’t there?
