Waking Up With a Rake (19 page)

“I assumed the most direct route is best. What other ways are there?”

“So seduction is your aim?”

“To seduce you beyond bearing? You flatter yourself, sir,” she said as she flounced into one of the wing chairs. “But last night you showed me something about me. Tonight, I want to learn about you.” She tugged her sagging wrapper back up to cover her bare shoulder. “Or are you no longer interested in giving me lessons?”

Come
here. Go away. Beg me to stay.
Where had she learned those essential bits of the seductress’s art?

“I’m interested.”
Definitely.
His body was already primed and ready.

“Then how should I undress you?” she asked, innocently unaware that just those words dropping from her sweet mouth were blissful torture for him.

“You should undress a man in the same way you’d explore a pleasure garden. Slowly. Deliberately. Tarry to see the sights. Touch. Taste,” he said. “Take all the time you need.”

“All right.” She stood and walked over to him. “Let’s take it turn and turn about. I allowed you to disrobe me without interference last night. Will you trust me enough to stand perfectly still?”

“I’m at your command.”

“Good,” she said with a feline smile. “But I don’t think you need to stand before a mirror. You already know what a fine-looking fellow you are. Let’s see what you have hidden under your shirt.”

Chapter 17

She finished undoing the row of buttons with agonizing slowness. Then she parted the front of his shirt and stepped back to view his bare chest.

After giving him a satisfied smile, she undid the button on one side of the flap front of his trousers. Olivia tugged at his shirttail. Then her breath hitched. The sound was slight, but it registered surprise. And, he hoped, delight.

“You’re not wearing any smallclothes,” she observed.

“I usually don’t under formal wear, and your mother does require her guests to dress for dinner,” he said. “Brummell always says they spoil the line of good trousers.”

“Hmm. Not having them spoils my chance to help you out of them.”

He smiled. She was determined to push this lesson to limits beyond his dreams.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” he said.

“Oh, I’m not disappointed. I expect I’ll find not unraveling the mysteries of masculine undergarments will fade compared to what else I’ll learn tonight.”

She touched the slight indentation at the base of his throat and then slid her fingertips down his chest. She circled each brown nipple, and then ran her knuckle from his breastbone to the waist of his trousers. Anticipation tightened his gut.

He’d never been so undone by such a simple touch.

Then she tugged the rest of his shirttail out of his trousers, took hold of one side of the shirt, and walked around him, slipping the garment down one arm. It snagged at his wrist.

“Cufflinks,” he said. She was so endearingly awkward. That strange lump in his chest glowed, but he tamped it down. He’d never complete his mission to upset her match with the duke if he allowed himself to have feelings for her. He had a job to do. He had to keep reminding himself of it.

“You might have warned me.”

“I thought allowing you to discover the small details on your own would be more interesting.”

She drew the shirt back up and removed the silver studs at his wrists. Then she circled him, sliding the shirt off his back and down the other arm before it joined his waistcoat on the floor. The glide of the fabric, the brush of her fingertips, the kiss of air on his bared skin made desire lance through him. This time her attempt to remove his shirt was much less awkward but no less endearing. Even though she was a novice in matters sensual, her efforts to seduce brought him to tingling need.

He’d been rock hard for a while, but now his erection throbbed, straining against the superfine trousers.

She stared at him in frank appraisal, a smile playing about her lips.

“Well?” he asked when she didn’t seem disposed to move forward.

“Well, what? You told me to tarry to see the sights.”

He bit the inside of his cheek. Why’d he have to be so blasted clever? He should have told her the right way to undress a man was to tear his clothes off like a wild woman, buttons be damned.

“Hold still now,” she said as she reached out to smooth her palms over his shoulders and down his arms. “You told me to touch, you know.”

“So I did,” he murmured, his voice a throaty growl.

When her fingertips dipped lower, his ballocks drew up in a snug mound. Unfortunately, she didn’t venture below the waist of his trousers. But his navel peeped above the superfine pants, and she teased the small hairs whorled around it mercilessly.

“Close your eyes,” she said.

“I made you open yours,” he countered.

“My night. My rules,” she said. “Or are you trying to tell me this isn’t at all the done thing and I’m hopeless at undressing a man so I may as well give up?”

“You are anything but hopeless.” The way his cock bulged in his trousers would damn him for a liar if he tried to say anything else. He closed his eyes.

And felt the wonder of her mouth pressed squarely on the center of his chest in a soft kiss.

“You told me to taste,” she whispered.

She nuzzled him with her lips and drew her soft cheeks across his chest.

“You smell wonderful, Rhys.”

Her tongue circled his nipples, and when she strafed one with her teeth, an involuntary groan escaped his lips.

“Liked that, did you?” she asked.

“Lord, yes.”

“Good. I’ve been thinking about it and I think I’d like it too. I mean, if you did that to me.”

His eyes flew open and he reached for her.

She straight-armed him. “No, you warned me to be cautious, and the cautious virgin would make certain only one of us is naked at a time.”

“Neither of us is naked,” he pointed out.

“Something I intend to remedy.”

“Not just yet,” he said, mildly surprised at the words coming from his own mouth. He’d never stopped a woman from undressing him before, but it wasn’t his favorite thing. He usually preferred to be in control of a sensual encounter. Amazingly enough, he more than enjoyed letting Olivia take the reins for a change, but he had to gentle them from her hands for a bit.

He’d been on the receiving end of her caresses, and he couldn’t bear not returning the favor. He wanted to astound her. He wanted to give to her without thought of return.

“Let me,” he said as he reached to tug the bow that held her nightrail neckline closed. “For only a moment. Then you can return to tormenting me.”

Her brows scrunched together. “Is it really torment?”

“Only the best kind,” he said with a smile as he slid her wrapper off and spread the neckline of her nightrail until it balanced on the tips of her shoulders. Her breasts were bared, but technically she was still clothed, since she was still wearing the thin muslin.

“You’re so beautiful, Olivia. I hope I’ve convinced you of that by now,” he said, “but looking isn’t enough. I want to touch.” He fondled her breasts, marveling at the perfect fit of the small orbs in his palms. “And taste.”

He bent his head and kissed her nipple. Then he took it into his mouth and sucked.

She gasped and clutched his head to hold it there. She was so sweet between his lips, he was loath to stop, but he couldn’t neglect the other taut berry. He moved to the other breast, and this time after a bit of suckling, he bit down on her softly.

“Oh!”

“Gets your attention, doesn’t it?”

She made another indeterminate sound that might have been “quite” or “right.” Either way, it seemed to mean “I won’t let you stop without a fight.” He’d given her a jolt of pleasure. It made him feel like a god.

Then he straightened and held her close so her bare skin was flush against his. She was like warm satin, all smooth and soft.

“Skin needs to be touched,” he whispered. “It cries out for the warmth of another. Do you hear it?”

She nodded; then she put a hand to his chest and pushed away gently. “You’re trying to distract me. Moreover, you’re back to directing this lesson and I intend it to be an exploration at
my
leisure.”

“I stand corrected.” He took a slight step back. “What do you want to do now?”

“I want to touch you, Rhys.” She tipped her head back so she could look up at him. “Everywhere. Will you let me?”

He swallowed hard. This would require all his concentration if he wasn’t going to spill his seed on her like a green boy. “I’ll let you do whatever you like.”

He ground his teeth together while she turned her attention to the last button that held his trousers up.

“No, that won’t work.”

“Why not?” She looked stricken. “What am I doing wrong now?”

“Nothing. You’re doing everything right.” If it was any more right, he’d have a fountain in his pants. “It’s just that if you mean to drop my trousers, may I suggest you allow me to remove my boots first?”

“Oh, it’s like the cufflinks,” she said. “Very well.”

He sat in one of the wing chairs and tugged at his Hessians.

Why was he talking so blasted much? He was here at Barrowdell for one purpose—to steal the maidenhead of the young woman before him. Why did he keep throwing up roadblocks between them? This whole business of lessons and wagers was a bunch of rot. He ought to swive her and be done with it.

That hard lump in his chest throbbed afresh.

The tight-fitting boots resisted his efforts for several more moments, but he finally toed them off.

“Goodness. That looked difficult,” Olivia said. “Perhaps you ought to give your Mr. Clyde a raise in pay.”

“No more complicated than your stays, I wager.”

“That’s a bet I’d win,” she said with a smile. “Not that I’m inclined to enter into any more wagers with you.”

He stood. “Why not? Paying off your last gambling debt to me has taken a very interesting turn.”

“True,” she said, sauntering over and renewing her efforts on his trouser button.

The nearness of her fingers fairly drove him wild. He worked cannon firing solutions in his head each time her hand grazed over his cock through the superfine. He mentally traced the route to Dover on the map he carried in his mind. When he made the mistake of casting a lingering gaze at the sweet hollow between her breasts, he was reduced to reciting the alphabet backward…in Latin. Anything to keep the pressure from clenching his balls and building in his shaft.

After what seemed like forever, she finally worked the button free and let the front flap drop.

“Oh, my,” was all she said.

***

It was all she could say.

Once when Olivia was a child, she and her sister Calliope had stumbled across some of the stable boys swimming naked in the pond. Their shriveled little male parts were hardly worth a giggle.

Rhys’s was neither shriveled nor little. It rose like a grand tower, tipped slightly toward her.

Knowing where it was designed to go, she felt a bit of trepidation at the size and girth of him. Even so, that secret part of her throbbed at the sight.

A curiously pleasant throb.

She tugged at his trousers and they dropped to the floor. He stood still as a statue of Adonis.

“Um, aren’t you going to step out of your trousers?”

“I could, but that would mean your role as leisurely explorer would be at an end. You wanted to be in control, remember.”

“Very well.” She crouched down before him, achingly aware of the nearness of his male parts. She forced herself to concentrate on removing his pants from around his ankles. “Lift your right foot. Now the left.”

She eased his trousers out from under his feet and then stood up.

“Aren’t you forgetting the stockings?” he asked.

“A strategic forgetfulness,” she countered. “So long as you leave your stockings on, you’re not actually nude. Should anyone ask, I would be able to say with perfect truthfulness that I have not seen Lord Rhys Warrington naked.”

“Flawlessly logical,” he said with a smile. “If you’d been born a man, you’d have made a brilliant barrister. But do you really expect anyone to ask you such a question?”

“Well, no,” she said.

“It helps you to tell yourself that I’m not completely naked, doesn’t it?”

How could he know her that well?

“That’s an exceedingly sharp blade you’re slicing your conscience with.” He cocked his head at her. “Are you sure it’s necessary?”

“Well, now that you mention it, perhaps not,” she admitted. “After all, I’ve seen any number of nude statues at the British museum.”

“Indeed?”

“Yes, in the exhibit of classical Greek art.”

“I’m surprised your mother allowed you to go.”

“To be honest, she thought I was attending a lecture on Grecian pottery,” Olivia said with a grin. “What my mother doesn’t know won’t hurt me.”