Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Come.” She took his hand; he hoped she didn’t feel how badly his shook. He pulled her toward the bedroom, needing to make her comfortable, hoping he didn’t lose control, wanting to love her as she deserved.
“Wait!” She removed her hand from his and darted across the room to retrieve the oil lamp.
He watched her approach the table through a fog of desire.
Lamplight, reflected through her shift, outlined her lush body.
It drove all rational thought from his mind until she turned back to him and the impish expression on her face brought him back to earth.
This earth goddess was his Georgie. She deserved his attentive control.
She smiled and followed him into the bedchamber, lamp in hand. He took it from her and placed it on a tall wardrobe where it could illumine the room safely. When he turned, he found her perched on the edge of the bed, watching with anticipation. He smiled down at her ruefully.
“It is a lot of light,” he said.
“I want to see and remember.” Her throaty voice, huskier than he remembered, drove him. He began to remove the remains of his clothing, achingly aware that she watched him avidly. “There is more to learn than Greek, my love.” Ever curious about life, he thought, Georgie’s curiosity is insatiable.
He felt a surge of gratitude for the loose fitting Cossack trousers he had been forced to adopt to accommodate his injuries.
He removed them along with his small-clothes in one fluid movement.
When they slipped to the floor, he stood hard, erect, and ready for her.
He searched Georgiana for any sign of distress.
She didn’t shrink away, but she looked dazed by the sight.
She stared for a moment and then glanced quickly up at his face and then down again, puzzlement clear on her face.
He let her look her fill until he could stand it no longer, and he knelt to remove her stockings. He tried to remove them with slow, sensuous movements, but amusement overcame him; and he dropped his brow on her knees, shaking with silent laughter.
“What? You are laughing.” She sounded outraged.
“The look on your face.” He could feel his face expand in a smile of pure joy. “It does seem unlikely, but it works. You will have to trust me.”
Georgiana stilled. “I do.” Her trust sobered him; he prayed he didn’t disappoint.
One tug pulled her shift up over her head.
A gentle gesture laid her back onto the pillow.
The entire time he held her eyes, watching for distress or denial, hoping there was none.
He put his hand under her knees and moved her legs around onto the bed, untied the ribbon fastening her pantalets at the waist, nudged her thighs up, and removed them slowly. He caressed her inner thighs as he did.
She lay completely naked before him. He couldn’t help but devour her with his eyes. Desire built in her eyes when he slid his hand up the inside of her thighs, over her pubic mound, over her belly, to caress her breasts before cupping her face in his long fingers and kissing her deeply.
She reached for him to pull him closer, shaking with eagerness.
“Easy, Love, not so fast. Let me love you as you should be.” With gentle care, he set out to do just that.
* * *
Desire warred with curiosity; desire won. Georgiana swiftly moved beyond analytical thought. Andrew’s hands were as nimble as his mind; they explored her relentlessly. They brought her pleasure in places she could scarcely have imagined capable of such sensation.
His mouth, soft but insistent, followed his questing hands until her entire body sang with delight, every nerve end alive and seeking.
She moved beyond action as well. In some distant part of her mind, she wished she could give as much as she received, but she couldn’t control her hands.
Loss of control left her drifting without direction.
Sensation rose, layer upon layer, heat upon heat, until she could no longer move but only whimper foolishly, begging him to stop, begging him not to.
His lips were on her neck then, his breath warm, his voice hoarse in her ear. “Almost, my love, almost.”
Her restless hands scraped his back when he moved over her.
He paused to push her knees apart and pull them upward.
A thought flitted on the edge of her consciousness, something she thought she should remember, but it wouldn’t come to her.
Her awareness centered now on the hot, moist place between her thighs where he nudged against her gently, entering her slightly, and then withdrawing, once, twice, slowly.
He covered her mouth with his, and she felt one sharp thrust deep within her.
A swift tearing pain preceded a sense of immense fullness as her body stretched to accommodate his.
Pain, that was what she had forgotten, but it didn’t matter.
The sense of closeness, of intimacy, overtook all other sensations.
She felt her body relax on a sigh and allow him to slip even more deeply inside her.
He lay still, but she felt his entire body vibrate with tension.
“Try to relax, Georgie,” he whispered, “Don’t think. Let yourself feel it.”
He kissed her eyes, her mouth, her ears, and his actions banished all thought, until awareness of discomfort dissolved and only the sense that she was possessed and cherished by another remained.
She felt the tension drain away, and he began to move inside her then with a slow rhythm.
Her breath quickened with the rhythm, and she held on to him as though her very life depended on it.
A sharp sword of pleasure rose up inside her; his movements brought an unanticipated tension. It quickly became unbearable.
“Andrew, I can’t, I...”
His mouth silenced hers. She felt him reach down where their bodies joined and caress her intimately.
That touch dissolved all thought. An utterly unexpected explosion of pleasure erupted.
The immensity of it disconnected her body from her mind and shattered her consciousness. For a moment, she knew only sensation.
His moans brought her back toward reality, and the spasms of his body above her gave her a profound sense of completion.
He buried his face in her neck when he collapsed against her, fully spent, and kissed her once again. For the first time in her life, Georgiana knew perfect contentment. The experience of his pleasure left her with immeasurable peace. Her eyes drifted shut, and she slept.
* * *
Georgiana, burrowed deep in Andrew’s bed, slept soundly.
Her naked back, curled away from him, held him captive.
Her arm caressed the place where he had been lying moments before, and it took all the tattered remnants of his self-control to keep from slipping back into bed to make love to her again.
He had just enough light before the lamp sputtered out completely to dress and grope in a drawer for his timepiece.
The night was far gone, but he thought they had enough time to get her back to her own house before her staff stirred—assuming they hadn’t already been found her gone and sounded the alarm.
It was too late to worry about that in any case.
For now, he wanted to get her back where she belonged and quickly.
He caressed her with one last longing stroke and pulled the soft coverlet over her. He knew it would be a shock to her system to wake up naked in a man’s bed.
“Georgiana, my love, wake up,” he said softly.
“Mmm?”
“The night, I fear, is disappearing. We need to get you home.”
Her eyes blinked open, and confusion gradually gave way to awareness. Her lips parted a fraction, and she smiled up at him.
“She whom Aphrodite has loved.” She reached her arms up for him. There was no shock.
“Now you know why they are dangerous works,” he murmured as he surrendered to her kiss.
“Enough,” he said a moment later. He said it several times into her mouth. “Enough. We don’t have much time. You are going back where you belong.” It almost killed him to rise up, his body fully ready to take her again.
She started to protest, and he silenced her with a tender hand. “We can talk later. I have to hitch up the horse.”
“Yourself?”
“Do you think I’m some aristocratic fribble who can’t hitch his own chaise? Besides, Harley would be very unhappy if we woke him up.”
She looked skeptical but let go of him so he could put on his jacket.
“Quickly now. It will take me but a few minutes.”
Andrew walked round to the public mews behind the lane.
The cool air made his bones ache; they were too old for sneaking around at night.
And yet he felt more alive than he had in months, perhaps years.
There was no going back, of course. That much was radiant in its simplicity; a clear path opened up before him.
He had no idea how they would manage the thing, but family approval or not, they would marry.
He needed her too much to live apart. Eros—the longing of one soul for union with the other.
Quick sex in the dark would never be enough.
* * *
“I could stay.” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.
They whispered, heads bent toward one another, while he walked his horse to the public thoroughfare as quietly as he could.
He was hatless, his jacket thrown on haphazardly, his shirt fastened crookedly. She thought him altogether adorable.
“I could stay,” she repeated, “and—”
“No.” Her confidence didn’t matter. His “No” was immediate and emphatic.
At the turn, he reached to hand her up.
“I wish to stay with you.” This time she said it firmly, and he rewarded her with a smile.