“Will you kiss me?” she asked.
“Now?”
He smiled, an almost wicked smile, one that fascinated as much as it charmed.
“Please.”
He leaned forward, placed his mouth softly over one nipple.
That wasn’t what she’d meant.
His tongue flicked her nipple, his lips gently surrounding, sucking.
Her hands moved to curve around his shoulders.
“Montgomery,” she said. That was all, just his name.
He stepped back, removed his jacket and vest, his eyes never leaving hers. Instead of touching her again, he turned her slowly, wrapped his arms around her, his shirt and trousers gently abrading her bare back.
His arm covered her breasts, one wrist resting against a nipple, while his fingers brushed against the right. His other hand pressed against her stomach, pulled her back against him as he kissed his way down her neck.
She felt cut off from him in that position, distanced, as if he wanted to touch her but didn’t want her to reciprocate.
His hand moved lower, his thumb playing across her navel, fingers combing through the soft hair at the apex of her thighs. She laid her head back against his shoulder, and he took advantage of the position to place a kiss beneath her jaw, his lips hot, his tongue tasting her skin as if to measure the frantic beat of her blood.
She felt as if she were melting against him. Her hips wanted to move from side to side, to guide his exploring, intrusive, talented fingers, but each time she did so, he pressed his hand flat against her stomach to still her.
Her skin felt hot, too tight, as if she were growing out of it.
The pleasure mounted until she could think of nothing but the strumming of his fingers. Her breath caught painfully, her hips moving as if he’d set them in motion. He was relentless,seeking another spot with his fingers, rubbing so gently she sighed and surrendered. Her nipples hardened, and a warm rush of heat pooled between her thighs.
How utterly wicked and wanton she was. She wanted to smile, to laugh in recognition of her own decadence. Montgomery was her husband and surely such actions were sanctioned. Even if they were never whispered about, or never discussed.
Reaching up with both hands, she gripped the arm binding her breasts, holding him as he explored her. Her knees felt weak. Her eyes squeezed shut on the feelings: anxiety to excitement, anticipation to pleasure.
She arched against his hand, needing the touch of him, craving the circular motion he’d begun between her thighs. She bit her lip as the pleasure mounted, laid her head back against his chest as the tension built.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her ear. “So responsive, Veronica.”
She was almost weeping from the pleasure. He pressed himself against her bare bottom. He was hard, his breath ragged.
His fingers brushed against her nipple, then tugged at it.
Her hands dug into his arm, her hips pressing back against him, then against his relentless fingers.
He murmured words of praise, decadent comments that shocked and pleased her. His clothing was abrasive against her skin, the stubble on his cheeks was scratching her hot cheek. His lips were warm against her ear, his teeth sharp against her earlobe.
Nothing existed but Montgomery and pleasure. Nothing but pleasure then, the molten heat of it spreading through her, summoning her keening cry.
She sagged against him, but in the next moment, turned in his arms, pulled his head down, and caught his lower lip betweenher teeth. She gripped his shirt, wishing he were naked, hoping he’d soon be naked, needing him naked.
A pleased laugh rumbled in his chest as he lifted her in his arms, placing her gently on the bed. She lay there, spent, surrounded by pleasure as if it were a cloud. She watched him, marveling at the body revealed as he removed his clothing. Shirt, shoes, trousers, underclothes all flew into the same corner with her garments.
A moment later, he stood there, naked, the part of him that made him male standing erect. Fascinated, she reached out and touched him, feeling him hard and hot beneath her fingers. She stroked one finger down his length, watching as he quivered at her touch.
How magnificent he was.
What they’d done in the parlor hadn’t hinted at this.
