Page 59 of A Figure of Love

She shifted slightly, the round firmness of her naked breasts against his chest making him harden.

She shook slightly and he realized she was laughing.

Gareth leaned back as far as he could—not much—and tilted her chin up, until he could see her flushed face and wicked smile.

“You find my condition amusing, Mrs. Lombard?”

She laughed outright and then buried her face in his chest. “Very.”

“Hmph.”

That only made her laugh harder. Which made him smile. It was amusing when one considered it. Men were just as much appendages to their breeding organs as the other way around.

Gareth flexed his rapidly hardening cock and felt her tighten in response. He grunted as ripples of pleasure washed through his body.

She propped herself up and crossed her arms on his chest, looking down at him with a quizzical look. “You made no sketches.”

Gareth smiled at her unexpected words and she stared down at him with wide eyes. “You can smile!”

“Yes, I can.” Gareth pushed a wet rope of hair back from her forehead. “But I cannot sketch.”

“Everyone can draw.”

He shook his head. “Not me.”

Her lips quivered. “I think you are trying to make me cry, Mr. Lockheart. That may be the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. I believe I shall have to prove you wrong.”

“Oh?” Gareth found he could not keep his hands off her body and he stroked from her slim waist to her lush bottom, his cock jumping on its own this time.

Her eyelids lowered and her sheath tightened.

Gareth swallowed. Would she let him—

She leaned down and kissed his chest where the ‘V’ of his rucked up shirt hung open. “You have very little hair on your chest.”

His hands froze.

She licked him. “You are not unlike a sculpture.”

Gareth cleared his throat, which seemed to crowd with foreign objects with each stroke of her tongue. “And is that good, or bad?” His voice was an unrecognizable croak.

She chuckled against his damp skin, her tongue and mouth headed toward his right nipple.

Gareth moaned and turned them both onto their sides. She slid a leg over his hip and continued her distracting licking and sucking while he began to move, his hand dropping between their bodies.

“Mmmm, yes please,” she whispered when he thumbed her slick, swollen pearl.

He moved slowly this time, his motions languorous and thorough, his muscle memory cataloguing her responses and storing them for future use, his mind hoping such knowledge would again be necessary.

∞∞∞

Gareth gathered her clothing and then wandered down to the river while Serena dressed.

She finger-combed her damp hair, twisted it into a heavy rope, and pinned it down with the few pins she could find. She told herself she looked much the same as usual when she tied her bonnet over the wet, tangled mess.

She’d just finished shaking out the blanket and folding it when a voice called down from the hillside.

“Hallo, there!”