The Unthinkable (7 page)

Reading her mind, his hips circled against hers, driving the thick head of his staff against the top of her mound. Rubbing against her until the lips of her sex swelled with desire for…

At once she understood her part.

Before she could process the thought, his mouth slanted over hers again, forcing it open. She gasped when his tongue stroked the inside of her mouth. Her heart fluttered. His lips and tongue brooked no argument, demanding her cooperation with his sinful kiss. Cautiously, she met the thrust of his tongue with her own. He growled his approval as his mouth continued its ravaged assault.

As he stroked her mouth with his tongue, inciting a wicked dance with her own, his hand moved to cup her breast. Too far gone, no longer heeding propriety, Genie only knew how good it felt. His hands stroked her body, claiming her with a possession that made her weak. She burned where he touched; her skin warm and sensitive. Every nerve ending in her body screamed for release from the wicked teasing dance. Kneading her breast with his hand, his thumb circled her nipple through the thin muslin of her gown and fine linen of her chemise, teasing it to a tight point.

They were both breathing hard, the fervor of youthful passion a conflagration that was quickly burning out of control. She knew it was too fast, too dangerous. But she was powerless to deny him—or herself. His movements at first slow and confident had turned frantic and less controlled. He lowered his head to her bodice, his warm breath and hot kisses peppered her tingling skin.

Startled by the impropriety of his kiss, a coherent thought broke through the madness. This was wrong. She should stop. The virtue she’d been taught to treasure above all else hung by a tenuous thread. She would be ruined if anyone discovered them.

“Wait, we have to stop,” she murmured against his mouth.

A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his brow as his face contorted in pain. He looked ready to explode as he fought for control. “No, we don’t, sweetheart. I love you too much, Genie,” he said tightly. “I want you to be mine forever. I
need
to make you mine forever. Do you understand?”

She nodded. He loved her! He wanted to marry her! A wave of euphoria spread over her at his declaration, stoking the fires in her still-smoldering body.

“Then trust me,” he rasped, his jaw clenched with the exertion of reining in his passion. “It will all work out fine, I promise.”

Trust me
. Of course, she trusted him. He wanted to marry her. How could she deny him? But still, she knew it was wrong.

He read her hesitance. “Do you love me, Genie?”

“Yes,” she said shyly. “I love you very much.”

Clearly in agony, a half smile crossed his tortured face. “Then there is nothing to fear.”

“But—”

“No buts. Let me show you. Oh God, Genie, please let me show you.” His whispered wooing turned into a soft, pleading kiss. Something primitive in his voice called out to her deepest desires, making her yearn to please him. She loved him and her body cried out to prove how much.

Reading acceptance in her expression, he kissed her again, quickly rousing her passion as if there had never been a momentary lapse. Genie forced the doubts aside, refusing to heed the warning in her head that told her she was making a horrible, irreparable mistake.

A mistake as old as sin.

The lessons of a lifetime dissolved in an instant. She couldn’t explain it, but this felt right. Why attempt to justify actions that could never be justified? She was young and in love—nothing else mattered. Only the moment.

His mouth plundered hers as his hands caressed her body. Losing patience, his movements lost some of their finesse, becoming enchantingly fumbling. She could tell that they were swiftly moving beyond the realm of his expertise. Had he done this before? If so, he had yet to perfect his movements as he had his kissing. The realization thrilled her; they were experiencing the wonder of passion together.

When his hand settled over her breast again, Genie ventured a tentative exploration beyond his hair and neck. Given the intimacy of what they were doing, it seemed odd that he still wore his high starched cravat and white waistcoat. Her hands roamed over the fine linen of his shirt, following the curve of his wide shoulders down the long muscles of his arms. He flexed at her touch, the long cords of his muscles played under her fingertips.

He’d managed to lift her skirts and chemise. She tried to question him, but he covered her mouth with a kiss. His hand brushed the length of her thigh above her silk stockings and garter to come to rest between her legs. Shocked, she thought to protest, but when his finger entered her she lost the ability for coherent thought. Perhaps sensing her shock, he slowed his movements, allowing her a moment to grow accustomed to his hand in the most intimate of places.

“Close your eyes, my sweet,” he murmured in her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “Don’t think, just feel. Feel my finger touching you, making you wet for me.”

Gently, he stroked her, his finger dipping inside her as the palm of his hand rubbed against her mound. Unconsciously, her hips lifted against his palm seeking the sweet pressure that made her tingle with sensation. He drove her to the edge of oblivion then inexplicably removed his sinful hand. Her head rolled back and forth on the blanket, frustrated with the agony of burgeoning desire.

He fumbled with his breeches, releasing his manhood from the tight constriction of his breeches. She was too embarrassed to look—even to satisfy her bold curiosity.

“I wish we had more time, but they might return at any moment. It will only hurt this once,” he promised through clenched teeth. His shoulders shook with tension, perilously close to losing control. Beneath his shirt Genie felt the dampness of his skin. He moved over her, positioning his hands on either side of her shoulders and wedging the thick tip of his shaft between her legs.

Reality hit her then. But it was too late. In one swift motion he sheathed himself in her, cleaving her in two, and smothering her bloodcurdling scream with his mouth.

She froze, stiffening with pain.

He cupped her face with one hand, running his thumb across her cheek to smooth a tear. “I’m sorry, love. The first time can be painful for a woman, but the worst is over. From this point on there will only be pleasure. I promise.”

Betrayed, her eyes shot daggers at him. She didn’t trust his promises right now.

“Try to relax.”

Was he a bedlamite? Her whole body clenched at his brutal invasion. She pushed against the wide shoulders that she’d admired only minutes ago. But like a wall of stone, he wouldn’t budge.

Their eyes met. If it was any consolation (which it wasn’t), he looked to be in as much pain as she was. He kept himself perfectly still—apparently no small feat if the bulging veins in his neck were any indication—allowing her body to adjust to him. And surprisingly, it did. After a few minutes he asked cautiously, “Better?”

She thought about it, wanting to disagree. Instead she answered honestly. “Yes.” Her body had seemed to soften around him, gently stretching to accommodate his substantial girth. And though unfamiliar, it no longer hurt. The painful throbbing had been replaced by a gentle tingling of awareness—a tingle that extended from low in her belly up to the sensitive tips of her breasts.

With the realization that the pain had dulled, Genie began to grasp the beauty, the wonder of what they were doing. They were truly connected, joined together in a way she never could have imagined. Her heart soared with the knowledge that this was the man who was meant for her. Her one and only true love.

“God you’re beautiful,” he whispered.

He kissed her then with such depth of feeling that Genie ached, no longer from pain, but from the pure tenderness of his caress. He soothed her with his mouth. He worshiped her with his tongue. And Genie couldn’t get enough, returning his kiss with equal fervor. His hands caressed her body, cupping her breasts and gently teasing her nipples, enticing her passion until the heat of desire spread over her body once again. Until she yearned for more. She yearned to feel his mouth on her skin, to shed the clothes that separated them and feel the hot press of his skin on hers. His mouth drove her crazy with need and her body responded, growing damp with desire. The yearning became too much. Writhing with anticipation, she moved her hips against him.

“Now?” he asked, his voice rough with pent up desire. “How do you feel now, my love?”

Genie felt strange, confused by the wave of sensation crashing over her. She was reaching out in the darkness for something, though she didn’t know what it was. No longer did his entry feel like a brutal invasion. Now it felt right. Like he filled her. Completely. And Genie was amazed at how the sensation of his thick, long erection pressed deep inside her, aroused her to the point of frenzy. “I feel… I feel like I want more.”

He groaned deeply, obviously relieved. As if the restraint he’d been demonstrating was more than he could bear. Eyes half-lidded, he threw his head back and thrust. Slowly at first, then increasing in speed and intensity. Instinctively, Genie sought more. She lifted her hips to meet his thrust, matching him stroke for stroke. The enthusiasm of her response seemed to drive him mad. He was perilously close to losing control.

And she loved it.

Her body cried out with pleasure as he pushed deeper inside her and she found the fulfillment that she’d unknowingly craved. Her heart raced as the frantic rhythm of their joining crested to its highest peak. It was quickly spinning out of control, but she didn’t care. She’d lost the ability to think. All she knew was the force of the exquisite pressure building inside of her. She wanted it harder, faster, deeper. She wanted as much as he could give.

A deep guttural sound broke her from her trance. She glanced up just in time to watch the emotion traverse his face, a strange mix of agony and ecstasy. The magnitude of his passion overwhelmed her. And Genie felt something quicken inside her, a tightness that was building in intensity that she did not understand. The tingling was now throbbing, the elusive craving that something magical was just beyond the edge of her consciousness. She wanted to cry out.

“I’m sorry, love,” he whispered. “I can’t hold back any longer. Next time, it will be longer.” His strange words made sense moments later when suddenly he jerked, crying out his release as he sank deep inside her. A warm rush surged through her and the sheer intimacy of the moment made her heart catch. Their eyes met and Genie felt as if she was looking into the depths of his soul. She would never be connected to anyone like she was to this man. He possessed her completely.

He reached out to stroke her cheek, seemingly as moved as she. “That was not very well done of me.”

Her brow furrowed, not understanding. “I thought it was wonderful.”

He laughed softly, sending a strange tickle through her body where they were still joined. “Believe me, it gets even better.” He dropped a soft kiss on her lips. “I would show you right now, but this is already too dangerous. Fanny and Lizzie could return at any moment.”

He kissed her again before reluctantly rolling off her, severing the connection. And with the loss Genie knew a pang of disappointment. The departure of his warm body chilled her, making her at once conscious of her exposed legs. Genie knew a long moment of gut-checking panic, as the enormity of her actions struck. As apparently it had him.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered.

That about summed it up, she thought. She turned her head to look at him. If anything, he appeared equally as astonished by what had just transpired between them.

“That’s never happened to me before,” he said almost to himself, before turning to face her. “I’m sorry, Genie. I never meant for this to happen.”

The blood drained from her face. Did he regret this? Did he not love her?

Sensing her fears, he smiled—that roguish grin that belonged on the face of a far more experienced man. He bent over and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. “Don’t fret, goose. I meant that I’ve never been so clumsy. You made me lose control like an untried lad before I could bring you pleasure.” His obvious embarrassment charmed her. Inwardly she smiled, realizing that he probably was close to being an untried lad. He dropped a soft kiss on her lips. “Everything about you overwhelms me.”

Her heart burst with happiness. Everything would be fine. True, it would be better to be married before making love, but the passion between them could not be denied. She loved him and he loved her. Still, she needed reassurance. “Did you mean what you said before?”

His eyes twinkled with emotion, immediately sensing her need for reassurance. “Of course.” He brushed a kiss across her forehead. “I can’t wait for my parents to meet you.”

Genie sighed with relief. Her dreams were coming true.

Reluctantly, he got to his feet. “I would stay like this forever, but we better get you cleaned up.”

Genie blushed, noticing the dampness tinged with streaks of blood between her thighs. The harsh reminder of what they’d done confronted her again. Ignoring the stab of fear, she moved to lower her skirts, but he stopped her.

“Don’t. You’ll get blood on them.”

Quickly adjusting his own clothing, Hastings picked up a napkin from their picnic and ran to the river. Returning, he knelt down next to her and tenderly washed between her legs with the cool, dampened cloth. Mortified to have his gaze on her in the stark daylight, Genie studied the trees.

When he finished, he pulled her to a stand and helped smooth the wrinkles from her clothing as best he could. Folding up the blanket splotched with blood, he bent down and picked up a pale blue satin ribbon that had fallen loose from her hair.

“Ah. A favor from my lady?” He knelt again and bowed his head like a knight at tournament.

Genie smothered a smile behind her hand. The effortless ability to ease an awkward situation was one of the things she most admired about him. One of the many reasons she loved him. Taking the ribbon from his hand, in mock seriousness she tied it around his shirtsleeve. “And how will you prove your devotion, Sir Knight? There is no battlefield on which to demonstrate your prowess.”