Page 42 of Marrying the Wrong Earl (Lords and Ladies in Love 2)

“Yes.” He barely got the word out, his body so filled with lust he didn’t think he could manage a complete sentence.

Like a nymph rising from the sea, Arabella stood, water dripping off every curve, running down her legs, beading on her nipples. He sucked in a breath, holding the cloth, but did not wrap her in it, his eyes feasting on the sight. “You are stunningly beautiful.” The finest paintings in the Louvre did not compare to the beauty of this flesh and blood woman with curves and dips to tempt the most stalwart of saints.

Her soft laughter had his blood racing right to his cock. Before she could cover her luscious body, he extended his hand to help her out of the tub. Her flesh was pink from the bath, her dampened skin glowing. She took his hand, staring at him the entire time, her eyes never leaving his. Her breathing increased, her sweet

breasts rising and falling, a sure sign she was affected by him watching her.

Gently, he dried her soft skin, taking his time, stopping at different points to caress, stroke, and fondle. She stood like a statue until he dropped the cloth and took her hands, placing them on his shoulders. He leaned in, the soft scent of her breath bathing his face. “I want you so much, my entire body aches.”

“As does mine.” She cast a siren’s smile and wrapping her hands around his head, drew him closer, kissing him softly, until he could no longer stand the gentleness of her kiss. Pulling her flush against his body, he covered her mouth with his, nudging her lips until she opened, then swept his tongue in, loving the taste of tea and mint on her breath.

An overwhelming sense of possession flooded him, almost bringing him to his knees.

Mine. Only mine.

Never in his life, with any of the voluptuous and skilled mistresses and courtesans he’d slept with, had he felt this sense of the right woman being in his arms. She fit him like a well-made leather glove. Her soft curves melted into his hard planes. He loved her silky skin, the scent that came from her hair, the mewing sounds she made when he touched her intimately. When he looked into her eyes, he felt as though he were drowning.

Her innocent, but enthusiastic, response to his touches fired his blood. Nash scooped Arabella up, striding to the bed where he laid her gently and after shrugging out of his banyan, brought his body down on top of hers.

His hand stroked her from her slender shoulders to the dark curls at the apex of her thighs. His fingers nudged her until she opened her legs wider. A low moan rose from her lips when his fingers delved into her moistness and warmth, circling, rubbing. “Do you like that, sweetheart?”

“Yes.” She drew the word out until it became a moan. Nash’s lips covered the nipple on her plump breast and suckled, pulling and tugging until Arabella began thrashing her head back and forth, her breath coming in gasps. “Please, Nash. Please. Do something.”

“What do you want, sweeting?” he whispered in her ear, his fingers busy at the entrance to her body, pushing in and out, stroking the swollen, damp part of her that would give her the pleasure every woman deserved. He gazed down at her face. She bit her lower lip, frowning in concentration as she attempted to reach the pinnacle he knew she longed for. That only he would ever give her.

“I want this agony to stop. I want…”

“I know what you want, my love. And I shall give it to you. Just relax, do not try so hard. When you fall, I will be here to catch you.” He kissed her closed eyes, her nose, jaw, then moved down to suckle on her breast once more. When she continued to strain, he moved farther down, kissing her flushed skin, covering her belly with feather kisses and slight nips. Placing his hands under her buttocks, he lifted and placed his mouth where his fingers had been and stroked her moist opening with his tongue.

Honey. She tasted like honey, and he could not get enough.

“Yes, yes. That.” Her breathing increased, and she fisted the sheets, calling his name over and over. Keeping his mouth busy, he looked up her thrashing body as a slight smile began on her lips, and then she stiffened, and a low keening erupted from deep inside as her body shuddered. He continued his ministrations until she collapsed, struggling to draw in breath.

As he watched her, something inside of him shifted. Something he did not want to identify. Instead, he kissed his way up her replete body and braced on his elbows, leaned over her, and looked into her hazel eyes.

All his past lovers had been merely practice for this one. This woman, in this time and place. He was home.

…

Arabella tried desperately to drag air into her lungs, but her chest heaved as though she’d run a race. She opened her eyes to see Nash staring at her, a definite look of male satisfaction on his face.

His warm lips covered hers, almost with violence, and she tentatively reached out for his jutting manhood. Would he be shocked and dismayed at her forwardness if she touched him? Would he tell her that was not what a countess did? He had seemed to enjoy her attentions there the last time they’d made love.

Her palm slid over his chest, tugging lightly on the soft curls that ran down the center to gather around the area she most wanted to explore. She continued on until she reached his hardened shaft. Nash sucked in a breath as her fingertips touched the incredibly soft skin covering steel. “Do you not want me to touch you there? I did the last time, but I don’t want to shock you.”

He smiled and held firmly onto her hand. “Do not be concerned with shocking me, darling. Anything we do here in our bed is fine as long as we both agree. And, yes, I definitely want you to touch me there.”

The grimace on his face as she slowly moved her hand over the oddly shaped member, and then encircled it with her fingers, made her think he felt pain. “Are you sure this doesn’t hurt?”

A groan was his only answer before he took her face in his two hands and devoured her mouth. He nudged her lips and his tongue slid in, tangling with hers, then sweeping over the inside of her mouth. The tingling that she’d felt before started up again, and her breathing once more increased.

“That’s it, darling, keep doing just that.”

The words he’d uttered were endearing, names he rarely used. Perhaps men had to be in the throes of passion before they spoke such tender words. How many women had Nash called darling, sweetheart, or sweeting? A depressing thought she shoved from her mind.

Her fingers slid into his thick curls, tugging his mouth once again to hers. She could not get enough of his skilled kisses. His hard body that pressed against hers still didn’t seem close enough. She felt as though she wanted to burrow into him, become part of him.

“Sweetheart, I can’t keep holding off. I’m sorry.” He pulled back, then spread her legs with his knee, settling his muscular body between them. He continued his kisses and squeezing and molding her breasts. Slowly, the hardened part of him nudged at her center, and he moved into her, pulling out, then moving back in. It didn’t hurt as much as it had the first time, just a feeling of fullness.