Pleasure Me (22 page)

What was it Ruth had said?
Sexual prowess.
The women of the Set considered him a skilled lover even though he’d never bedded any of them. They’d lied to protect their own reputations, and in return they’d helped craft the reputation he’d worked for. They’d done their work too well. The realization wound its way through him with a sluggish speed that left him speechless.

“You insulted me once before, my lord. Do not try to insult me again.” Ruth neatly sidestepped him and headed toward the door.

“I am not in the habit of lying,” he growled as he grabbed her arm and tugged her backward into his chest.

One arm wrapped around her waist, he subdued her struggles and prevented her from breaking free of his grasp. The sensual fragrance she wore flooded his senses and sent lust slamming into him. Damnation, how was it he couldn’t get near her without feeling this intense need to hold her and never let her go? This need to kiss every inch of her until she called out his name. But worst of all was the craving to bury himself inside her.

Fear lanced through him at the images filling his head. But this time his terror was born of the desire crashing through him. He closed his eyes against the delicious view her loosely tied robe offered him as he looked over her shoulder and saw the full curve of her breast. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Even despite his lack of experience, he knew what to look for in a woman.

His friends had discussed the finer points of a woman’s figure many times. Once or twice they’d even dragged him to a brothel despite his best efforts to extract himself from the visit. Although he’d managed to keep his secret under the pretense of being drunk, he’d received enough of an education so as to appreciate the lush curves of Ruth’s body. She was beautiful.

“Please let me go.” Her voice was a strained plea that made him flinch.

With a quick movement, he turned her to face him, his hands still holding her in place. Anger glittered in her eyes, but he could see the hurt and confusion reflected there as well. He drew in a deep breath and cleared his throat. He wanted her to believe him, but how could he make her understand without stripping himself bare—without giving in to the hunger tugging at him with vicious glee?

“I’m not lying to you Ruth. And telling you that I . . . my . . . about my lack of experience is damned difficult.” He released his hold on her. “You’re the first person I’ve ever shared this with. My family doesn’t even know. And the
only
reason I’m telling you is because I know you thought I rejected you because of your age.”

Her lovely mouth parted as if she was about to speak, and he pressed his fingertips against her lips. God, but her mouth was soft against the pads of his fingers. His insides knotted up with that familiar sensation she always aroused in him, and he clamped down on the desire building inside him.

“You’re the most desirable woman I’ve ever met. Every time I’m near you, I have to fight to keep from touching you. God help me, but I can’t get the image of you, emerging from your bathroom with water still clinging to every part of you, out of my head. You looked like a young Aphrodite, with your hair tumbling down onto your beautiful breasts.”

He could hear how hoarse his voice had become as he met her gaze. The fact that she was dressed almost exactly as she’d been the other night was not helping matters. His cock had gone rigid in his trousers, and his tongue grew thick in his mouth as he remembered how badly he’d wanted her at that moment, almost as badly as he did now.

“The way your nipples became taut peaks the moment you realized I was looking at you made me come close to coming right then and there. Can you blame me for . . . I couldn’t help taking you in my mouth when the opportunity presented itself. And Christ Jesus, I didn’t know . . . never thought that a woman might think to shave . . .”

Bloody hell.
He was stammering—acting just like he had all those years ago with Bertha. An inept schoolboy. He flinched at the memory and jerked away from her. This had been a mistake. A blunder of the worst proportions. Whether she believed him or not wasn’t the real danger. It was whether she’d keep his secret.

Would she tell anyone? Why wouldn’t she? The minute someone else knew about his lack of experience in the bedroom it would become fodder for the gossip mill. Christ Almighty, when Wycombe got wind of it, the man would be overjoyed. The earl had already come close to openly labeling him a sodomite; now the bastard would have even more ammunition.

Then there was his uncle. He was certain Beresford had already said way too much to Tremaine. It wouldn’t be a short leap from his lack of experience in the bedroom to the fact that he was a freak of nature. The thought of the humiliation to come increased the gutwrenching sensation that was threatening to make him violently ill.

“Christ Jesus, I’m a fool,” he muttered fiercely. “I should have left well enough alone.”

He turned away to leave but stopped as her hand caught his arm. The strange expression on her face made him feel even worse. The last thing he wanted or needed was her pity.

“Are you really telling me the truth?” she asked quietly. He hesitated, then gave her a short, sharp nod.

“Yes,” he said between clenched teeth.

“Not even your mistress?”

“Mary needed protection from the man who’d ruined her,” he ground out. “Having the world think I had a mistress helped keep my secret safe.”

“But you parted with her.” Suspicion clouded Ruth’s face as she studied him carefully. It was evident she was struggling to believe him.

“She fell in love with the tutor I employed for her,” he said with a pained grimace. “They were married several weeks ago and left for America.”

“I see,” she murmured with a sympathetic expression that made his jaw lock with tension. Her brow furrowed by doubt, she narrowed her eyes at him. “But I don’t understand why you—”

“The why isn’t important,” he said harshly. “All that matters is that you believe me when I say that your age had
nothing
to do with my refusal to make love to you. You do yourself an injustice by thinking you’re no longer young enough for a man to desire you.”

The flush that crested in her cheeks emphasized the point he was trying to impress upon her. She looked half the age of her counterparts among the Set. Her face was smooth and youthful, and knowing a mere slip of fabric was all that hid her firm, supple body was enough to undo him. The thought of sliding into her made his cock stretch until he ached. What would it feel like to bury himself inside her? His hand was the only thing he’d ever known.

Christ, he’d probably spill his seed before he could even satisfy her. How
did
one satisfy a woman? He clenched his fists at the realization that no matter how much he wanted to know the answer to that question, it would go unanswered. The revelation he’d shared with her was all he dared to disclose about himself.

Coherent thought evaporated an instant later as she closed the distance between them. He breathed in her exotic fragrance, and suddenly, his entire body was raging with need. He stiffened as her hand touched his arm. Despite the light touch, the heat of her penetrated first his coat sleeve and then his shirt to warm his skin. He was going mad. Whenever the woman got close to him, he couldn’t think straight.

“It must be difficult . . . the suspicions . . . the rumors people like Wycombe spread. Even if you—”

He didn’t give her a chance to finish and tugged her toward him to capture her mouth in a hard kiss. The notion that she might be having second thoughts about his sexuality rammed through him like a wild boar. He probed her mouth with all the skill he possessed. A dark hunger ate away at him, pushing him to remove even the smallest doubt in her mind—to prove to her once and for all that Wycombe was wrong about him.

His hands slid beneath the thin robe to caress her breasts. They were warm and heavy in his palms. The moment his thumb brushed over a stiff nipple, she moaned softly and her tongue danced with his in an erotic fashion that heated his blood that much more. He wanted to suckle her again—wanted to hear her whimper with need like she had the other night. The thought pierced the haze of desire flooding his senses, and a shudder ran through him. He couldn’t repeat his mistake with her.

Making love to her would openly expose him to more humiliation, and he wasn’t willing to take that step, not even with her. Gently, he pulled her arms from around his neck and pushed her away from him. The sleepy, sultry look on her face slowly disappeared as she studied him in silence. He clenched his jaw against the banked fires threatening to take hold of him again.

“I am not a sodomite,” he said stiffly as he turned away from her.

Damnation, the moment he’d even thought her about to suggest the possibility, he’d lost control in a way that alarmed him. He grimaced. When had he ever been in command of his senses where she was concerned? At least she’d shown him how the Marlborough Set would react to the truth. Bloody hell, if his inexperience became common knowledge . . . he ran his fingers through his hair as panic lashed through him. The silence hung between them like a heavy blanket. The heat of her hand pressed into his back and made him stiffen.

“I believe you, Garrick. Your inexperience. All of it. I believe you.”

The quiet declaration released the tight vise wrapped around his chest and he sighed with relief. He hadn’t realized how important it had been to him that he convince her of the truth. He cleared his throat as he turned toward her.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. If I were . . . if it . . . your age would
never
be a reason for me to reject you.” His jaw tight with tension, he met her steady look for a brief moment before shifting his gaze away from her.

“I understand that now. So where do we go from here?” Her quiet question surprised him.

“Perhaps we could continue as before.” He frowned. The one thing that had driven him to make amends had been their friendship. But if she suddenly decided she wanted more . . . he wasn’t prepared for that.

“Is that what you really want?”

“What do you mean?” He narrowed his gaze at her.

“Are you sure friendship is the only reason you told me the truth? I’m a courtesan, Garrick. Although I do much more than fulfill a man’s sexual needs, my skills in the bedroom
are
considered excellent.”

“Instruction?”
He choked out the word. Sweet Jesus, the woman was offering to tutor him in the art of lovemaking. How in the hell was he supposed to respond to that?

“If not that, then perhaps someone to confide in?” she said in a soothing voice. “There
must
be a reason why you’ve never been with a woman. I am a good listener, when I wish to be.”

“That topic isn’t up for discussion,” he said through clenched teeth, not even smiling at her ironic comment about listening.

“As you wish.”

The heat of her brushed against him as she walked past to sit down at her dressing table. Stunned by her ready acquiescence, he stared at her as she calmly reached for a jar of cream and proceeded to apply the emollient to her hands. Awkward. It was a sensation he’d never liked, and he was feeling extremely awkward right now. He clasped his hands behind his back then drew in a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself.

“You’re going out this evening?” The question only reflected how ill at ease he was. She stopped rubbing her hands and met his gaze in the dressing table mirror.

“I was, but I’ve changed my mind,” she said quietly.

“I see.” A rush of pleasure surged through him. She hadn’t said so, but he was certain he was the reason she’d changed her plans.

“And you? Do you have plans?” In a casual gesture, she shrugged one shoulder out of her robe to rub cream on her skin. He inhaled sharply as he saw the lush curve of her beautiful breast reflected in the mirror.

“No . . . I . . . I wasn’t sure . . .” He swallowed hard as she finished rubbing cream on her shoulder and pulled her robe back up. His breathing eased for a mere fraction of an instant before she repeated the exercise with her other shoulder. A knot developed in his throat, making him cough.

“Are you all right, Garrick?”

She turned quickly to face him, her robe discreetly closed. The concerned look on her face would have eased his discomfort if he hadn’t seen the flash of something far more dangerous in her eyes.

“I’m . . . fine.”

With a shake of his head, he cleared his throat again. She tilted her head in contemplation. In the quiet glow of the gaslight, the movement emphasized the sweet curve of her shoulder and throat. A sense of impending doom swept over him, but he ignored it, unable to take his eyes off of her.

“Do you trust me, Garrick?” The softly spoken question took him by surprise, and he frowned.

“I would not have confided in you otherwise.”

“There’s nothing shameful about your innocence. In fact, I find it quite . . . arousing.”

She turned to pull a long scarf from one of the dressing table’s drawers. When she stood up to face him again, the gentle determination reflected on her face made him tense. In the next instant, the air in his lungs was dragged out of him in one large
whoosh
as he watched her slowly untie her robe. Bloody hell, why wasn’t he racing toward the door?

“Desire is a pleasurable thing, Garrick.”

Her voice was hypnotic, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her as she trailed one hand across her throat and then downward. The languid movement parted her wrapper as she leisurely brushed her fingertips along the side of her breast. It was an erotic movement that sent heat blasting through him until his palms were damp.

“Let me show you what it’s like to feel that pleasure.” The thin robe hiding her from him slid to the floor with a whisper, and his mouth went dry at the sight. “Let me show you how wonderful it can be between us.”