Must Love Breeches (31 page)

But his arms rested at his sides, eyes closed again, head slightly raised. A shiver went through his body. Could she keep going on her own?

Her heart sputtered a hell-yeah.

She pulled out his shirttails and peeled his shirt over his head, along with his waistcoat. She took in a slow breath—the mellow glow from the setting sun and nearby candles highlighted the hard planes of his naked chest and arms. He was gloriously smooth-chested, the muscles jumping and tightening as he obviously fought for control. A few dark hairs adorned his nipples, and an enticing sprinkling traced a path down his taut stomach and disappeared beneath his buckskin breeches.

Oh God, she needed to see
all
of him! This delicious slowness, this delicious seduction, made her breath come shorter, made her blood flare with heat. And judging by the bulge in his breeches, he enjoyed it, too.

She smoothed a hand along the healing wound on his arm and his delightfully muscled chest. Her palm brushed against his nipple and trailed lower.

His eyes snapped open. He grasped her wrist in a strong grip and pinned it to his chest. To his heart.

“Allow me,” his voice rough and deeper than usual.

In the room’s golden shadows, his hazel eye shifted color, grew darker, more piercing. The hunger and promise reflected in their depths pulled her, matched her own.
Hoo, boy.

He leaned closer, not breaking eye contact, not quite touching his body to hers, his face inches away. Heat coalesced in the small space between them, their breath mingled. He brushed a stray hair from her face, his fingers lingering, the gentle touch transferring the building warmth to her skin. Just one little touch, so far, but heat pooled into a ball in her chest and shot downward.

Unaware of the effect he had on her, or because of it, he traced one finger down her temple to her cheek and along her jaw, the blunt tip of his finger a feather-light touch-touch-skim that drew all her nerve endings to the surface, leaving fire in its wake.

He cupped her head, below her chin, and slowly stroked her neck. She shivered at the touch and the quiet strength, the subtle possession. Her heart
ker-thumped
in time with each stroke, anticipating.

His hooded gaze followed his roaming fingers as they traced the top edge of her shift. She closed her eyes, every nerve pinging with awareness of his closeness, his tender touch, his heat.

A light tug on her shift scraped the cloth across her sensitized nipples, followed by a soft whispering of string. He gently pulled one edge of her shift off her shoulder and grazed the wet heat of his mouth across her skin at the fabric’s edge. She gasped. He’d free her breast soon and kiss her... There...

No. He only brushed and nipped her neck, the deadly combo of soft lips and chin stubble enflaming her skin, tormenting her, while he gently kneaded her breast through the cotton and glided a hand down her waist. He nibbled her earlobe, the soft puff of his breath creating a cascade of shivers down her body. She grasped his arms, and he captured her mouth in a searing, hungry kiss. She gasped and opened her lips, his clever tongue teasing its way inside, questing, stroking, stoking the fire that burned inside, seeking a release.

She shuddered.
Holy cow.
She had
never
been this aroused so early in the process.

It seemed they spent an eternity exploring each other’s mouths. Need vibrated through her—the need to be closer, to
feel
more, to connect with him. She arched her body. He slipped his hand from her waist and stroked the small of her back, pulling her into full, exquisite contact with his hard body. The gentle yet strong touch of his hands on her back, and of her body to his, made her ache. Ache for more. She shivered and wrapped her arms possessively around his neck.

He moaned and broke away from her mouth. He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back onto the bed, the soft sheets and pillows cradling her fall with a light whisker of sound. He landed next to her, a heavy, buckskin-encased thigh coming to rest between her legs.

His weight partially covering her, his heat, his dizzying scent—she’d found the haven she craved. The hardness of his muscled thigh rubbed against the building pressure in her sensitive core, and she wrapped her captured leg more securely around his, wanting to be closer, wanting to feel his entire body pressed as tightly against her.

He sought her mouth with his, his tongue more urgent. She abandoned the last of her self-control and cinched her arms around his back, tugging him closer, skimming her hands up and down his strong back. She rocked her hips to the hypnotic rhythm of his stroking tongue.

He grasped her bottom, her sex now pressed hard against his taut thigh. His kisses became feverish, searing. A groan escaped her; she became lost in those kisses. And they were everywhere. She soared in the sensation he created, that she created. That they created together. The sensual rhythm, the urgent pressure against his thigh so hard, the hunger there became a palpable thing as it pulsed, pulsed against him. The ache tightened, spiraled, shattered her in that instant, her body convulsing.

She wrapped her arms tighter around him and let the sensation roll off her, trembling, vulnerable. Oh. My. God. She’d just had an orgasm against his leg! What would he think of her?
Don’t look at him
.

“Oh, Isabelle, sweet Isabelle.” His hot breath and rumbling voice by her ear sent more delicious shivers through her body. Hearing her first name spoken by him for the first time, and in that husky voice, was surprisingly erotic. He cradled her in his strong arms and stroked the small of her back as the aftershocks dissipated.

How sweet could he be? She wanted him inside her.
Now
. Her pleasure had given her only a taste of what she craved. She was by no means through with him. And she sensed he’d be too much of a gentleman to seek his own after she’d had hers. Again, she must initiate. His body tensed and shuddered alongside hers as he visibly fought for control.

By God, he’d lose that damn fight. She gripped his shoulders and pushed him onto his back. Surprise flashed in his eyes. She kissed the strong column of his neck, streaking a path to his ear. She nibbled his earlobe, and he inhaled sharply and tightened his grip around her waist. His hands roamed her back, the cotton of her shift adding extra friction against her fevered skin, sending more shivers coursing through her.

She licked and tasted her way to his left nipple and flicked it with her tongue. He stiffened. She smiled. Sensitive nipples were such a turn on. Lightly stroking it with her tongue, she tugged gently with her teeth, and he jerked under her. She slid her hand down his taut stomach, stopping just shy of his breeches. What to do with all the strangely-placed buttons?

She traced the skin along the top of his breeches and a moan escaped from deep within him.

He flipped her onto her back and crushed her mouth with his, a hungry passion pulling her along in his urgency. He brushed his hand up her waist and gently captured her breast. His finger and thumb teased her nipple through the delicate cotton, while his tongue teased her mouth. She locked onto his biceps and delighted in the feel of his muscles shifting under her palms as he moved.

He eased the edge of the shift downward, the fabric dragging over her breast. He tore his mouth from hers and kissed his way down her neck. Looking down, she could see the strong curve of his jaw poised above her breast, so achingly close, her nipple moving closer to his lips each time she drew breath. She felt beautiful, desirable.

She arched slightly, a plea for him to claim her, ease her mounting tension. Instead, his strong, blunt fingers lightly circled her areola, teasing, making her ache further. His hot breath fanned her skin. As his mouth got closer and closer, Isabelle’s breath came faster and faster, and she thrashed her legs. She skimmed her hands feverishly along his broad shoulders, across the back of his neck, and cupped his head, her fingers tangling in his soft black hair, urging him down.

He finally captured her nipple in his warm mouth. Molten heat burst from her breast and shot downward. She moaned and gripped his head tighter, arching her hips.
Yes.
He let out a soft chuckle, his breath further teasing the heated skin. He swirled his tongue around her nipple. Caught it again and sucked. Hard. The sensation made her buck.

He skimmed her side until he reached the bottom hem of her shift. While his mouth sucked, flicked, and teased her nipple, he slowly drew the feathery cotton up, his fingers scraping the delicate flesh of her inner thigh along the way. Her urgency built again.

He confidently moved toward her center. Yes. He brushed against her curls and probed her delicate folds, the heat of his finger slipping easily along her aroused flesh. She writhed beneath his skillful fingers.

“You are so wet. Isabelle, I... Oh God, I want to be inside you.” His breath whispered against her wet nipple, eliciting fresh shivers. “I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”

“Don’t,” she managed to gasp, wrapping her free leg around his.

He levered up to his knees and scrambled at the fall of his breeches, his breathing ragged, until he freed his straining erection. She couldn’t help it, she had to touch. She reached across and felt the velvety tip, smoothing the small bead of moisture. He choked out a groan and raised his head, eyes shut tight. The next instant, he’d fallen to one elbow and gripped her bottom, positioning her.

Her ragged breath mingled with his. He nudged where she ached for him most and his gaze snapped to hers. Time stood still. Anticipation coursed within, making her tighten and arch. She would have buried him deep in her in that movement, in that moment, but his strong hand pinned her hip, preventing her from moving more than a fraction up his hot, hard length. Oh, God, she couldn’t stand it.

His head moved lower until their noses touched, his dark hair falling forward and brushing her cheeks. Tension coiled in the muscles of his arms. And slowly, ever so slowly, he eased into her, his eyes boring into hers, into her soul, just as he physically bore into her, filling her.

The slowness, oh, how it made her seize around him, holding onto him with all her strength. She savored this moment, savored this sharing, savored feeling him, Phineas, enter her for the first time. Somehow, it seemed so right that he was inside her now, here in her house and his. It pulled all the jagged edges of her soul together and snapped them into place, right where they joined as one.

When he had buried himself deep inside her, his hot length stretching her, he remained still for a single, exquisite moment, and she reveled in how full he made her. His head lowered a little more and his lips gently brushed against hers, but still he didn’t move, as their heartbeats pulsed—
Boom. Boom. Boom
—as if it made up the entirety of their being.

“Isabelle...”

Oh God, this was torture! She shook. His mouth moved on hers in increasing urgency, his tongue flicking in and out. She couldn’t take it any longer. She thrust her hips to take more of him, pleading with him, squeezing him.

Slowly, he eased out and the exquisite torture shifted, changed, his hard length stroking her flesh as he exited, the friction and sense of loss acute. He paused just shy of her entrance and plunged back into her, hard.

“Phineas. Oh, God...”

The utter sense of possession rocked her. Her legs shot up and wrapped around his waist to allow him deeper access. Arms trembling, she clung to his back. His mouth moved hungrily over hers, possessing it as he possessed her in the most fundamental way, stroking out and back in, a heady rhythm that increased in tempo, the butter-soft texture of his breeches grazing her inner thighs, as they both sought the ultimate connection, the ultimate release.

A pulsating wave built inside her, emanating where they joined. She rode it as it took her higher and higher, coiling tighter, the promise seemingly unattainable, unreachable.
Yes, so close.
So close it was almost painful.

He wrenched his mouth away and his ragged voice in her ear breathed, “I can’t hold off much longer.”

He moaned and swiveled and flexed his hips in a circular motion, grinding against her clit. The pieces of her soul that had knitted together with him swelled, coiled, and burst apart, splintering her. She gasped, her arms wrapped tight around him, the acute aftershocks feeling as if they would continue forever. He pumped harder into her once, twice, and one last time. His body went rigid and his warmth exploded deep inside her.

He shuddered and collapsed atop her, his mouth above her ear, breathing in deep gasps, whispering her name over and over. Her heart beat fiercely and she could feel his pounding against her chest. She fought to catch her breath and kept her arms and legs twined around him. She wanted to keep him inside her as long as she could, to keep the feeling that had whipped through her, leaving her exhausted and sated. She sighed and held on tighter.

He wrapped his arms around her and turned onto his back, pulling her with him. Still joined, he nestled her against his side, his hand on her head. She smiled, her ear on his chest, and listened to his heart return to a normal pace.