Her breath hitched. “You want to…to take me?”
He shut his eyes. Fuck yes, he wanted to take her. Claim her. Burn her essence onto his skin until he felt her in every pore. Until she was a tattoo on his soul.
But that was…he wasn’t ready to go so far. If he did, he’d have to go further, and that felt impetuous.
“Not take,” he said, shocked by how shaky his voice was. “Give, Sarah. Give to you, give to me. Without claiming what should not be mine. Will you let me?”
Chapter Thirteen
Sarah blinked up at the man looming over her. The man who weeks ago she would have called an enemy and was now asking to become her lover. She wanted that. Wanted Kit. And what other chance would she ever have to take what he offered? Her life was going to be lived in service, whether here or somewhere else. She knew what little time those in her position had for a life of their own, a future that didn’t involve someone else’s children, someone else’s life.
He offered her a taste of what she had lost when her mother died and her situation changed so drastically.
All those thoughts ripped through her foggy mind, and she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “Please.”
Kit’s face twitched at theplease, as if that tiny word affected him. Then he leaned in and his mouth was on hers again. This time he was slower, gentler as he tasted and took, sucked and soothed. She felt her bones going liquid, her body melting into the chair as she surrendered to the wonderful sensations of…him.
His mouth glided lower, his teeth nipping her jawline, then his lips fastened on her neck. She hissed at the new sensation, her body lifting beneath him as he tasted the column of her throat. As he did so, she felt his hands moving. He smoothed his fingers along her side, his hands cupped her hips, and she felt each digit dig in through the fabric of her skirt. He ground against her and she gasped as she felt the hard length of him through his trousers.
Thanks to Isabel’s adventures, she knew a little about what a man wanted, what he did to a lady. Isabel had always acted like it was a pleasure, at least with Matthew, but Sarah had always had a hard time picturing that such a thing would feel nice.
Now it made more sense. When Kit pushed against her, her body answered with a heated twitch and the place between her legs felt hot and achy and wet. She gasped out a moan of pleasure as his hands found their way back to the space between her legs and he settled one there, pressing his palm flat against her.
He pulled his mouth from her throat, watching her as he rippled his hand over her, hard pressure receding and returning like waves on an ocean. She dipped her head back as pleasure unlike anything she’d ever known rushed over her and everything else in the world faded, drilling down to that one place where he touched her with such expert attention.
“I’m going to lift your skirts,” he whispered.
Her eyes flew open and she looked at him. “You’re going to…look at me? Bare me?”
He shifted, and she could see that her questions moved him. His eyes had almost no brown left, they were so dilated with desire now. She had done this to him, made him so needy. She, a woman he had hated until just a few days ago.
She was almost proud of that fact.
“I promise you, Sarah, there is no shame is what I’m going to do,” he said, his gaze never leaving hers. “All there will be is pleasure.”
“More than what you’re doing with your hand now?”
That hand stilled and he leaned in. He kissed her once more, deep and slow. Then he pulled away. “So much more.”
She nodded, silent acquiescence, though she couldn’t help but blush as he lifted her skirts, exposing her calves, her knees, her thighs. She knew he had to see the hole in her stocking. The one she hadn’t the chance to darn yet. He didn’t seem to care. His hands slid up her legs, firm pressure as he pushed the skirts higher and higher, piling them against her stomach until she was exposed from the waist down.
She blushed. Her drawers were worn out. Certainly not as fine as any lady who might allow him this pleasure. Of course, what lady would? Very few in her acquaintance would stoop so low. She was surrendering to her most base needs now. He might say he would not judge her, but he would.
“You are frowning,” he said, glancing up from what he had revealed. “Why?”
“Just torn between wanting this and knowing the cost,” she admitted, because honesty seemed to truly be the best policy at present.
His expression softened. “What cost?”
“That you will see me as a wanton,” she admitted. “That I’ll know I was.”
“That is an ugly word,” he said softly, “thrown at ladies so that they are ashamed of what they want. It seems unfair. I asked you for this—why would I judge you?”
She turned her face slightly and his hands stilled.
“Because I did just that for so long,” he whispered.
She nodded without looking at him.
