Will then slid his hand leisurely down her body until he came to her drawers. They were plain cotton lawn. Perfectly serviceable. But for once, Phoebe wished she had worn something a little more… interesting.
“Sorry,” she mumbled.
He glanced up as he released her other nipple from his lips. “Whatever for?” He began to run his finger along the seam at her waist, giving her a questioning look.
Phoebe’s cheeks were burning, but she was the one who had brought it up. “They aren’t very nice, is all,” she said with a vague gesture toward her drawers.
She couldn’t help imagining all the glamorous women he had bedded before, who probably had drawerfuls of lace and silk underthings. And he had traveled, hadn’t he? Lord, what if he had slept with aFrenchwoman? Phoebe couldn’t compete with that.
Will, unaware of her compounding worries, simply gave her an amused smile. “I assure you, your drawers are quite alluring.” His finger then dipped beneath the waistband and skated over her skin.
“No, they aren’t,” she blurted out. Good lord, she was making a hash of this.
But the smile never left his face. “They are, because they belong to you.” The slow, featherlight touch quickly grew torturous. The lower he stroked, the more sensitive she became until her hips began to shift in jerky movements, trying to chase the teasing sensation.
“Shall I continue?” he asked after an excruciating moment.
“Yes,” she practically shouted. To hell with the French woman. She needed more.Now.“And you’re wearing far too many clothes.”
Will flashed her another one of those wolfish grins. “Are you asking me to join you en deshabille?”
“Well, it seems only fair,” she said coyly.
He let out a soft laugh. “Ever the egalitarian. How can I resist such a request?”
Oh, she liked that.Verymuch.
He stood to take off his jacket and waistcoat while Phoebe pulled her chemise over her head. Her earlier self-consciousness had now dissolved into a puddle of want. Nothing else mattered at the moment other than Will. He was momentarily distracted in his disrobement by her bared breasts until Phoebe cleared her throat. He then gave himself a shake before toeing off his shoes and stretching out on the bed beside her. There was barely room for the two of them, but Phoebe didn’t care. She wanted him as close as possible.
“Is that better?” Will asked as he stared down at her with the kind of tenderness she had once dreamed of. Phoebe force herself to look away and began to run her finger up and down the length of his black braces.
“It is,” she replied, attempting a blasé tone. “You may continue.”
Will slid a finger beneath her chin and tilted her head up to meet his burning gaze. “Yes, Miss Atkinson,” he murmured.
Phoebe’s heart skipped several beats as Will pressed his mouth to hers while he found the slit in her drawers and brushed his fingers against her quim, gently at first, but then he slowly began to press more firmly. At the same time his kisses grew deeper and more insistent. When his tongue entered her mouth, Phoebe welcomed it with thrusts of her own. Her enthusiasm seemed to spur him on and he pressed the bundle of nerves above her mons harder and it ached with pleasure like never before. The double onslaught overwhelmed her senses until he was everywhere. She wanted to breathe only him, taste only him. Phoebe gripped Will harder, unable to stop the urgent cries building in her throat, and tugged his braces until his firm chest was pressed tight against her own. She never wanted this to end. But end it did.
Her release rocked through her suddenly, with little warning, and she nearly screamed against his mouth.
Will pulled back, looking surprised himself. “Are you… was that…”
“Incredible,” she gasped, still catching her breath as the most delightful warmth flooded through every inch of her body.
He smiled, his eyes nearly black, and cupped her cheek. “I’m glad.” Then he turned away and began looking around for something. As she was still basking in a haze of euphoria, it took Phoebe a moment to realize what he was doing.
She sat up and grabbed her crumpled chemise from his hands before throwing it across the room. Will gave her a bemused look but before he could say anything, she pressed against him.
“This isn’t over yet. I want more. I wantyou.”
“Phoebe…”
“Please, Will,” she begged, shamelessly kissing his throat and nipping his earlobe. “I’m a boring little spinster schoolteacher, but let me have this. I know you’ll make it good. I trust you.”
He let out a pained groan then pulled back. She could see the torment in his gaze, a battle between desire and honor. Phoebe held her breath, unable to keep her desperate hope bottled up any longer. She wasn’t sure she could survive his rejection. But then his eyes flashed with a sudden dark intensity and he leaned in close.
“Oh hell,” he growled just before kissing her even harder. Phoebe smiled against his lips in triumph. She had won.
Sixteen
