He started to shake his head again, but she cupped his jaw, dragging his lips back to hers.
“Then touch me, please. I’lldieif I don’t feel your hands on me.”
He groaned, then nodded, scooping his arms under her, devouring her mouth with his as she arched into him.
“Very well, but only touching,” he mumbled, licking the shell of her ear in a way that sent her thoughts spinning with delight as his hand slid down her neck, over her chest, drawing a line down over her breastbone, her belly. Down, down, to lightly trace the outline of her mons through her nightgown.
“Show me how you want to be touched,” he whispered, skimming his hand back up to the line of her hip.
Honora closed her eyes against the sight of him, shut away the nerves that threatened to overwhelm her, then took his hand and dragged it back between her thighs, her hand covering his, pressing his fingers into the soft heat there, through the thin cotton nightgown.
Silas sucked in a harsh breath, fitting himself along her side as he gave her his full attention.
His fingers dipped slightly beneath hers, tracing the slit of her sex, and she clamped her legs closed, trapping him there. Then, she curled her fingers in, rubbing his hand against her swollen folds through the fabric.
“You like to tease yourself?” he asked hoarsely, his fingers taking over the movement, pressing lightly against her and running his fingers up and down along the seam of her core as she felt herself grow wet with arousal.
She nodded slightly, biting her lip.
“You want me here?” Silas asked, tapping a finger against the part of her that ached for him, her hand tightening on his in wordless affirmation, as her mouth was too dry to speak.
His mouth found her throat, sucking hot, open-mouthed kisses across the place where her pulse fluttered, working his way up to the tender spot behind her ear as he tortured her mercilessly, digging his fingers into her heat, the divine friction of her gown heightening every small, stroking touch between her thighs.
Oh, it was too much,and she could feel the way her wetness grew, dampening her gown, her thighs growing slick where they pressed together.
She needed more than teasing now, so she pushed his hand away and lifted her hips, dragging the hem of her nightgown up until she could feel the cool kiss of the night air on her heated skin.
With a low moan, she returned his fingers to her core, lining them up at the centre and then dragging them through her slick folds until she found the point of her pleasure, arching and bucking under his touch.
The pleasure was so good, so intense, that her hand fell away, nerveless and limp, her legs widening even as his hips ground against her thigh, his ragged breath hot in her ear.
Silas took control, working tight little circles around the swollen bud that begged for his attention at the end of every up and down stroke.
At first, his touch was light, sensual and soft, but then, as her thighs started to shake, as her breath came fast, he gave her more pressure, rubbing and teasing until she was arching up off the bed, her legs widening wantonly.
“Honora,” Silas groaned, scooping his fingers into the aching hole at her centre, slippery heat spilling out around his fingers as he spread her arousal over her folds.
“Christ, yes. That’s it, sweetheart,” he moaned, claiming her mouth as her body seized, her legs clamped closed around his hand, wetness surging hot and slick to coat his hand and run down her cleft.
Honora writhed through the divine peak of her climax, feeling herself float for a minute before she crashed back down.
Silas had gentled his touch through her crisis, but not stopped his petting.
“I know you can come again,” he whispered, teasing his fingers up and down the length of her sopping wet seam. He raised himself up on one arm, gazing down at her in the flickering candlelight.
“I heard you, that night. Did you know?”
Oh God, had he?
Of course, he had. Honora had heard the floorboard creak but had hoped it was nothing but her imagination.
She had preferred not to dwell on it even when she found him sleeping in the chair outside her room early the next morning.
“What did you hear?” Honora gasped, needing to be sure.
“Everything. I heard you call my name.”
Her soul practically left her body, the shame was so overwhelming.
