Chapter Twenty
Unable to tell him what she wanted, she had to show him. Releasing the tense, bracing grip she had on his thigh, she covered his hand with hers. It required only the slightest bit of urging to bring his hand higher.
He groaned and his voice was ragged and raw as he murmured against her mouth, “No regrets.”
She answered by opening to him. Parting her lips to tangle her tongue with his and parting her thighs to allow the press of his palm against her sex, shielded by nothing but the light cotton of her undergarment.
The warmth and intimacy and wonderful pressure of his hand where she ached so sweetly momentarily stopped her breath. She stilled, feeling her moisture wetting the cotton against his palm as she mentally accommodated herself to this new experience.
“Careful, sweetheart,” he whispered in reminder. “I promise.”
Then he slowly glided his fingers along her flesh, applying a subtle pressure as he sought the open seam of her undergarment.
With her fingers still resting atop his, she felt the moment he encountered her slick heat.
She drew a swift breath even as he growled quietly in appreciation.
A part of her wondered if she should be embarrassed by her body’s reaction, but he continued to caress her, parting her folds, sliding his fingers along her swollen flesh, and she forgot about everything but the languid pleasure he created.
It was a shocking and wonderful sensation to feel herself literally held in his hands, with one still teasing at her breast and the other between her thighs, while his body cradled hers and his lips moved along her throat. She had no choice but to surrender. Give herself up to his expert touch.
And he was so very skilled. Tingling pleasure spread from every nerve, rippling and rolling through her, swirling with rising intensity that quickened her breath and the wild beat of her heart.
When he reached the sensitive bud of her clitoris, he circled gently, inspiring a waterfall of sensations that made her toes curl. Then he circled again, with more pressure this time. The caress drew upon something deep inside her. Something that urged her to demand more.
With a roll of her hips, she urged his fingers to the hollow core of her where she’d begun to pulse.
His voice was husky at her ear. “Are you ready for more?”
Tightening her hand at his nape she finally managed a few words, “I need…I can’t…” she rolled her hips, trying to increase the pressure of his touch. “Phin,” she finally pleaded, “I ache. So powerfully.”
He pressed a kiss to her lips. “I know, my beauty. I’ll take care of you.” He spoke in halting breaths, as though he, too, struggled to form proper words. “Stop me. At any time.”
Eleanor nodded and kissed him back, thrusting her tongue against his and arching into his hands.
Yet, even though her body was straining for a deeper caress, she still stiffened as he slowly pressed his finger past her slick opening.
It was an odd sensation. An intrusion and a seeking.
The discomfort was real, but it was surpassed by a dark anticipation.
She held still until his finger was nestled in her core and his breath came swiftly against her neck.
Then he eased out of her only to press in again, the way made easier as her body began to accept his presence there.
The gliding friction along her sensitive nerves was delicious and shocking and wonderful.
And the tension built higher inside her, becoming a sweet twisting pleasure.
She felt like moldable clay in his arms as she gave herself over to his deep, intimate caress and the heat of his invading kiss.
Her breath caught and her muscles tightened. Her thighs tensed and her spine rolled.
He must have understood what her body was craving because he held her secure against him, his fingers pinching her nipple through the thin material of her gown as he added a second finger and curled them within her to add pressure to a spot just behind her pelvic bone.
Then he circled the heel of his hand over her clitoris.
Everything twisted inside her. A delicious, aching knot of building tension. The press of his fingers deep inside, the grinding pressure of his hand.
She gasped then held her breath as sparks of sensation ignited within her.
Slowly at first, then in a rush. Her nerves seemed to explode with pleasure all at once as her inner muscles clenched tightly to his fingers and her back bowed.
In a rushing wave, the astounding burst of pleasure spread out to her entire being.
Ripples of beautiful sensation followed in its wake, leaving her trembling and weak.
As the extraordinary experience slowly faded and her breath eased to a proper rhythm, Eleanor could still feel tiny pulses in her sex. Her legs were limp and her spine utterly soft. She felt exhausted and invigorated at the same time.
But the viscount still held her firmly in his arms. No longer caressing her breast, his hand now wrapped her ribs as he simply held her. Between her legs, he executed gentle, soothing strokes, easing her body through the aftermath as he trailed soft kisses along her damp neck.
She wanted to turn her body and curl into him, wrap herself around him as he was wrapped around her. She wanted to breathe him in. But as the pleasure left her, reality returned.
Shock rippled through her and she stiffened.
The viscount gave a short grunt of discomfort and tightened his arm around her middle. That was when she felt the ridge of his hardened length against her buttock. She didn’t know much about such matters, but she knew then that he was fully aroused and needful.
Heat flooded through her once again and that tingling sensation she knew to be desire spread through her belly.
She should’ve realized he would get to such a state. And though he’d been careful with her as promised and he’d brought her to such astounding heights of pleasure, he’d claimed none for himself.
Should she do something?
Uncertainty and distress filtered into her rosy state of mind. And awkwardness brought a discomfiting tension to her body.
The viscount muttered something incoherent as he removed his touch from between her thighs and gently drew her skirts back down to cover her legs.
Eleanor tried to sit more upright, but he stopped her. Instead, he turned her in his lap until she sat sideways. With one hand firmly cupping her hip, he lifted the other hand to the side of her face, forcing her to look at him.
The ferocity in his expression stopped her breath.
His stare was bright and swirled with mysterious depths. His jaw was taut, the muscles bunched and released as he gazed into her eyes. Yet, despite his intensity, the caress of his thumb against her cheek was gentle.
A textured rawness was in his voice as he whispered, “No regrets, sweetheart.”
Though her lashes fluttered with the self-protective instinct to look away, Eleanor held his stare.
Parting her lips, she took a deep breath and released it slowly.
Then she placed her hand to his face, mimicking how he held hers.
Dropping her focus to his mouth, she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his.
His sigh mingled with her soft exhale. She slid her tongue over his bottom lip before slipping it into his mouth. His grunt of satisfaction warmed her. The heat and hardness of his erection jutted against her hip, but he did nothing to force the kiss further, taking only what she offered.
When she pulled away, she was breathless and heated. “No regrets,” she replied thickly. Then her lashes lowered and she added a quiet, “Thank you.”
His chuckle was low and rumbly. “Sweetheart…I should be thanking you.”
She blinked her gaze back to his. “But I…you didn’t…you’re still…” She couldn’t finish. She simply didn’t have the words.
“Don’t worry about me,” he replied gruffly, his hand flexing over her hip. “I’ll manage. But I should probably wait a few minutes before we leave this room.”
“Of course.” Heat blushed her cheeks as she scooted out of his lap and he let her.
Averting her gaze, she busied herself with replacing the book in its protective box, then she slowly stood on shaking legs to return the box to the cabinet.
By the time she turned around, the viscount had also stood.
Despite a slight rumpling of his clothing, he looked as he should.
Starkly handsome. Confident. Composed. Seemingly unconcerned.
As if they hadn’t just…done what they did.
But then she looked into his eyes.
It was all still there.
The ferocity. The piercing hunger. The possessive desire.
Damn if she didn’t burst back into flames of wanting in a second. Wanting and total confusion. Because she had no idea what any of this meant.
*
Phin could feel her distress, but he couldn’t confidently interpret it. Not when she kept averting her gaze.
A degree of awkwardness had returned to her movements and manner—something that had been completely absent while she’d been unraveling in his arms—but he wasn’t exactly certain of the cause.
It could have been due to the challenge of walking back through the ducal mansion after such an intimate interlude. Or it may have been something else.
Though he maintained a demeanor of propriety and kept a proper distance, they never once encountered a servant or anyone else. When they finally reached the grand entry hall to find it as empty as when he’d arrived, he reached out to take her hand.
“Eleanor.”
He felt the way her body flinched at his touch or maybe the familiar use of her name. But then she turned that dark, expressive stare in his direction.
Desire instantly flowed hot and heavy through his blood. He didn’t think he’d ever again be able to look into her eyes and not hear her sultry sighs of pleasure or recall the soft, slick heat of her clenching his fingers or relive the way her body soaked into his.
When he said nothing more, she furrowed her elegant brows in a questioning expression. But he saw the shadow of vulnerability in her eyes. “My lord?”
He lowered his chin. “Phin.”
There was a long pause. “Phin. What is it?”
He had no idea. Or maybe he did, but wasn’t prepared to acknowledge it. For that reason, he swiftly redirected his thoughts and said the first thing that came to mind.
“I want to thank you. For sharing that piece of your family history with me.”
Tension rippled through her and her lashes flickered.
He’d said the wrong thing—he was an idiot. But the right thing was also very, very wrong, so he forced himself to remain stoic despite the tightness in his stomach as he waited for her response.
There was a poignant intensity to her regard. So different from how she’d looked as she’d trembled in his hands. And for perhaps the first time in his life, he felt a bit awkward himself as he wondered what she was thinking of him in that moment. What she felt about what they’d just shared?
He often felt as though he could see in her eyes what she tried her best to conceal from the rest of the world.
But in that moment, everything he was so desperate to see was carefully kept from him.
After several breaths in which Phin grew more and more uncertain, she asked in a stiff halting voice, “Is that…” She stopped as though the words had gotten stuck. But then she reinforced her prideful posture and forged ahead. “Was that supposed to be some sort of recompense?”
Horror and shame blasted through him. “No.” His reply was sharp and definitive as he lifted a hand toward her only to stop himself. “I swear, the one has nothing to do with the other.”
There was a moment of silence as she stared back at him. Then quietly, “I’m sorry. I’m not familiar with such things. I just want to be sure I know where I stand.”
“I swear to you,” he vowed in a voice deepened by truth.
“I would never use desire in such a merciless manner. What happens between us in an intimate way is totally separate from the rest. I only wanted you to know that I appreciate the fact that you trusted me enough to share something so personal.”
“My grandmother’s book,” she noted flatly.
Phin’s sigh was ragged and came from the depths of him as he shoved a hand through his hair. “Yes, that. But—” He made a low growl of frustration. How was it possible that every ounce of his reputable charm abandoned him when he most needed it? “Dammit.”
He stepped toward her and took her face in his hands. Her soft gasp of surprise was quickly followed by a swift darting of her gaze about the empty hall. But Phin didn’t give a damn if a servant was peeking around the corner in that moment. All he cared about was that she understood.
When her soulful eyes returned to his—wide and wary, he almost forgot what he intended to say. All he could think of was kissing her again. But he’d already made her think him a villain.
Brushing his thumbs over her cheeks, he murmured thickly, “What happened between us, happened because I desire you and admire and revere you. It happened because you are…an astounding woman and you deserve all the pleasure I can give and so much more. It happened because I couldn’t go another day without touching you—pleasuring you—as I’d imagined doing a thousand times since we met.
The last thing I’d ever want is to hurt or offend you. Please know that.”
Her gaze remained wary before she shielded it with a flutter of her lashes.
He had no idea if she believed him. And before he could ask her, a scuffling sound drifted toward them from the front hallway where they’d left her elderly chaperone sleeping.
She swiftly but gently removed his hands from her face and muttered, “You should go. Quickly, before she sees you.”
Though Phin would’ve given anything for her to meet his gaze just then, she very carefully avoided it. The noises from the parlor increased and grew closer. He had no choice but to walk through the front door, leaving Eleanor behind.
It was one of the most difficult things he’d ever had to do.
When he returned home it was to find another message awaiting him. Written in the same elegant penmanship on the same high-quality paper as the last, it read:
You refused to heed my warning. Your actions have decided your fate. None of us can escape our destinies and yours now ends in blood. Do not force her to the same. THEY ARE MINE.