Her moans took on a despairing edge, her head tossing against the back of the chair.Hal immediately responded by replacing his tongue with a long, thick finger, giving her something to work against.The same feelings he’d given her in that field near Kissington Manor, but amplified and magnified and expanded by everything that had happened between them since.
She knew this man, and he knew her.Hal saw her.He wanted her.He protected her.She, who had felt always known herself to be alone, even in the midst of her family and friends—she was not alone when she was with Hal.
His mouth moved up, concentrating his sensual assault on the tight, slippery bud at the top of her cleft while his finger moved deep inside her.The combined sensations, the utter naughtiness and forbidden delight of what they were doing, drove Gemma higher and higher until she was straining against the ferocity of the pleasure he was giving her.
Grasping her skirts, she whisked them higher, needing to see him, to know that he was there with her, experiencing the dizzying heights of this moment just as she was.
But the sight of him working hungrily between her legs was more than she could bear.The wetness glistening on his beard, the width of his mighty shoulders spreading her thighs wide, the intensity squeezing his eyes shut as he tasted her…and then his eyes opened and he met her delirious gaze with a stare of such erotic euphoria that Gemma could be in no doubt that Hal was enjoying this as much as she was.
They were together in this, and the thought tipped her over the edge in a rush of feeling that had her legs shaking as spasm after spasm of ecstasy pulsed rhythmically through her entire body.
Her bones turned to water.She slumped in the chair, her new favorite piece of furniture in all the world.Her head lolled against the blue damask.She was utterly undone.
Hal sat back on his heels, his eyes glittering with hunger as he took in what must be a very debauched sight.Gemma’s legs had fallen away from his shoulders when she came to her crisis, but she had yet to muster the energy to close them.So she sprawled, spraddled in the chair, with every bit of her throbbing core on display for Hal’s intent stare.
The look on his face as he swiped a hand over his beard and smiled in satiation made it impossible to feel shame.
Instead, Gemma let herself revel in being as wanton as the world had always assumed she was.If she’d known how good it felt, she might have given in before.
Except before, there had been no Hal.And try as she might, she could not quite imagine doing this with anyone else.
Which was a problem, considering her current situation.
In that uncanny way Hal had of reading her mind, he put one hand on the arm of her chair and with the other, he tenderly cupped her mound.The tip of his middle finger traced, ever so lightly, about the tight entrance to her body.She shivered and he leaned in until their faces were close together.
Never looking away from her, Hal spoke.“I know you’re not going to stop.And I understand why you’re doing it.But none of these gentleman who come here, with their carriages and horses and footmen and titles—not one of them can make you feel like I do.You may find someone who can give you everything you think you want.He may even touch you like this.”
Hal punctuated his words by grinding the heel of his hand sweetly against Gemma’s still-buzzing clitoris.The desire that had been so recently satisfied began to beat in her blood once more, quickening her breath and misting her skin.Her lips parted on a whimper as Hal delivered his final pronouncement.
“But no one else will give you as much pleasure as I want to lavish on you.No one else, Gemma.I want to drown you in pleasure, drown us both, until every breath makes you scream for how good it feels.”
Gemma was horribly afraid that Hal was telling nothing but the truth.
No one else.No matter what else that nameless, faceless gentleman she hoped for could give her…he wouldn’t be Hal.
The thought sliced into her, carving off a piece of her heart, but Gemma did not have the luxury of caring for her own heart.
It was the height of irony to know that if her father were still alive, he would be the first to approve of Gemma marrying a working man she’d met in a coaching inn.
Any other aristocratic father would be apoplectic, but not Gemma’s.
Of course, if Father hadn’t died, Gemma never would have met Hal.If Father hadn’t died, she wouldn’t need to hunt for a wealthy, titled husband while cracking her own heart into pieces and grinding them to dust.
But he had.And she did.And her heart might never recover, but many people seemed to get along just fine without theirs.
She would survive.She could live on her memories of Hal as long as her mother and sister were safe and happy.
Still.Perhaps it would be all right to stockpile a few more memories for that cold future day when she was alone once more.
“No one else?”she purred, looping her arms around Hal’s neck.“I don’t know.Perhaps you’d better prove it to me.Again.”
He growled and pressed her lips apart with a kiss that tasted earthy and salty, tasted of herself, with Hal’s familiar smoky savor underneath.
And as Hal went about providing his proof, Gemma promised herself, she wouldn’t let this thing with Hal stop her from doing what had to be done.
But she wouldn’t give it up lightly, either.Not until she found the man she would marry.
The first few gentlemen who had seemed like such good prospects had turned out to be less than ideal.This process might take longer than she’d thought.
