“What did you say to him?”she hissed, following closely on his heels as he carried the wing chair across the hall to her room.
“Nothing you need concern yourself with.They won’t be coming down for supper and they’ll be on their way in the morning.”
Gemma knew she should be taking Hal to task for his high-handed ways, but it didn’t feel quite like that in this instance.
If she was honest, in the quiet of her own heart, Hal’s actions felt more like…protection.Like he had made of himself a shield to stand between her and those who would callously, carelessly cause her pain.
And she knew she would be foolish to begin to count on that—in her life, there had never been anyone who stood with her against her enemies.She had always been on her own; she had learned self-reliance in a hard, very public, school.
But she could admit that having Hal angry enough on her behalf to strike fear into the heart of that young fop felt…nice.
In fact, it felt so nice that Gemma found herself closing the door behind them when Hal carried the wing chair into her room.
“My brave knight, slaying pomaded dragons for me,” she flirted somewhat giddily, feeling overheated and restless.
He snorted, setting the chair down in the corner.“A knight in somewhat rusty armor.Is this where you want the chair?”
“Hmm, let me see.I supposed I’d better test it out.”
Trailing her fingers along Hal’s broad back, down the roped muscle of his arm to the cushioned arm of the chair, Gemma circled so close to him that her breasts brushed his chest before she sat herself down.She felt, more than saw, the instantaneous hardening of his whole body.
“Mmm,” she purred, looking up at him.“Yes.The view from this position is spectacular.I could happily stay right here all day.”
Her gaze tracked the movement of his strong, tanned throat as he swallowed.His eyes darkened to the depths of the forest at night.
“A true knight,” he said slowly, voice rough and low, “would kneel before his lady.”
Gemma’s heart galloped like a runaway carriage horse, but she managed to keep from swooning when Hal folded that big, leanly muscled form into an elegant bend.With one knee on the floor, he bowed his head and glanced up at her from underneath the lock of auburn hair that fell over his forehead.His eyes gleamed with a secret smile that licked along the insides of her thighs like flame.
Her legs shifted slightly, rubbing together in shivery pleasure where the she was growing wet and sensitive, then sliding apart the barest inch.But it was enough to catch Hal’s attention, and his smile faded to be replaced with a predatory look that made Gemma clench around the hollow, empty feeling in her core.
“How may I be of service, my lady?”
She gasped when his large, capable hands came up to rest upon her knees.When he gently yet implacable pushed her legs wider, she began to pant.The air felt thin and hot, warmth rushing over her in a wave.When he paused for a moment to study her face, apparently waiting for something, Gemma held herself still for the space of a heartbeat.
For all her boasts of being a London lady who knew what to do in the dark, she had never done this before.But she knew what Hal wanted.She’d seen naughty engravings in her own parents’ library; her married lady friends were not shy in recounting their extramarital exploits.She’d attended parties so outrageous and beyond the bounds of propriety that couples engaging in this act, and others like it, could be found in darkened corners and alcoves.She had been invited to join in.
But Gemma had never trusted any man enough to bare herself in this way.She had never even been tempted, really.
Until now.
Hal Deveril was temptation incarnate, and even though Gemma knew it was a bad idea, that she was supposed to be consigning Hal to the past and training all her attention upon the future, nevertheless, she met his gaze and gave him a single, very deliberate nod.
As though he’d been unleashed, Hal immediately threw her skirts over his head and ran his palms up her legs, every caress awakening her flesh and rendering it tingly and so sensitive the brush of a feather could’ve made her cry out.
Gemma clutched at the arms of the chair and held on for dear life as Hal nibbled his way up her thighs.His mouth dampened the fine lawn of her drawers, the edge of his teeth nipping a bit to make her jump.And then he was there, at the juncture of her thighs where she was molten hot and swollen for him.
He paused, his panting breaths striking her core through the slit in her drawers, and Gemma squirmed helplessly on the slippery damask seat.A quavering moan escaped her throat, the tension too much to bear, and then he was upon her.
The first swipe of his tongue was a lick of fire that burned away every rational thought in Gemma’s head.
He sucked and laved, gently abrading the delicate tissues with the rasp of his beard then soothing the intense sensations with the agile softness of his tongue and lips.Her hips bucked and Hal slid his hands under her bottom to tilt her up to his voracious mouth, encouraging her to move.
Without her consent, her legs lifted and her ankles crossed behind Hal’s back, holding him to her.His groan vibrated the flesh between her legs.
Gemma’s hands flew to cover her mouth, trying to hold in her sharp cries of pleasure.Hal’s tongue slipped along the surface of her most private place and then, in an act that somehow shocked her, it went inside.
She clamped down, her inner walls fluttering uselessly, aching to grip something, to be filled instead of teased like this.
