“Oh!”she moaned.
In response, he stroked her most intimate area.
Dear God!Releasing her hold on him, she fisted the sheets on either side of her now-tense body. With eyes closed, her entire focus was concentrated on the space between her legs and the small, impossibly arousing movements of his fingers.
Alternately breathing hard and holding her breath, she arched back while a curious sensation built low in her body. She was straining toward something, panting, moaning, desperately hoping he wouldn’t stop until she reached wherever she was going.
And then his mouth returned to her breast. As his teeth grazed her nipple, which had pearled, all her muscles tightened and clenched. In another moment, she achieved the pinnacle for which she’d been striving.
A burst of pure pleasure crashed through her in waves, releasing the tension in her limbs and flooding her with relaxing, blissful warmth.
Malcolm seemed to know when the sensations ended, for his fingers left her and he lifted his head, looking into her eyes.
No longer mindless, not gripped in the throes of indulgent gratification, Serena suddenly felt mortified. She was sprawled beneath a man, her skirts up, baring herself to him — if not to his eyes, then at least to his touch. And the man in question was gazing at her with a self-satisfied, smug expression of having done well.
He had!And extraordinarily well as far as she was concerned. But that didn’t mean it was right. On the contrary, it was most assuredly wrong.
Wicked, immoral, decadent, wonderful, astonishing, and definitely worth repeating!
No!She stopped her thoughts.
“You look as if you’re waging a silent war within,” he said, sounding amused.
“Please let me up,” she said, her voice croaking and husky.
Slowly, he rolled to the side, kindly dragging her skirts down over her legs as he did.
She supposed that made him a gentleman. He hadn’t even noticed her Queen Anne’s pistol strapped as usual against her ankle. As she well knew, he’d been focusing on other parts of her.
Sitting up, she watched his gaze lock upon her—
“Oh!”she exclaimed, wrenching her bodice up as high as it would go to cover her breasts.
“A tad late,” he jested, sounding full of good humor.
A nervous laugh escaped her, although she felt anything but amused.Was she ruined? Was this what that word meant?
Running a hand over her hair, she realized her plaited bun had come down. She must be in far more disarray than when she’d fled the dark path in Vauxhall.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
Rolling her eyes at his statement, she climbed off the bed. As if it mattered to her whether she looked beautiful to him. It only mattered if she looked presentable when she went home.
On the other hand, she paused then asked, “You think I’m beautiful?”
“I do.” He stood and began to tuck in his shirt. “Only a blind man would say otherwise.” Reaching over to the armoire, he retrieved the small mirror.
“However, you’ve been left in a bit of a mess. If I hold this for you, perhaps you can repair the worst of it.”
A bit of a mess?That hardly seemed to describe the preceding actions. Nevertheless, Serena found most of the pins still in her hair and set to work. Seeing him watching her so intently over the mirror, recalling the intimacies he’d just performed, her hands shook as she went about coiling her long braid into a bun.
“I hope next time I can see all your hair down,” he said as she finished.
Next time?She could only imagine what he thought of her, a strumpet who gave a stranger access to her body. Moreover, he fully imagined there would be a next time, as if she were available to come to his garret on a whim.
“I’m not a harlot,” she said, wondering if he knew the French word she’d used.Prostituée.
Apparently, he did. His eyes widened. “Of course not. I didn’t offer you money, did I? Besides, if you were a whore, I would have expected a little more.”
