Chapter 17 #3
“I want to see you,” he said. “Just you. Nothing else.”
His hand rested on her knee. Just that, at first. The warmth of his palm through the fabric of her stocking, steady and patient, and Mary’s breath quickened at the promise in the stillness.
He did not move. He watched her face, reading her, waiting for permission she had already given, but he wanted to see it confirmed in her eyes.
“Mary…” A growl escaped his throat, needy, ravenous.
She covered his hand with hers and pressed it closer. “Evander,” she uttered back, her eyes darker than ever.
Evander’s fingers began to move. Slowly.
His hand traveled upward from her knee, tracing the line of her leg through the silk, and the touch was light enough to make her skin prickle beneath the fabric.
His thumb drew a circle against her inner thigh, and Mary let out a gasp, and his eyes darkened at the sound.
He leaned closer. His mouth found the curve of her neck, and he kissed her there while his hand continued its slow ascent.
The combination of his lips on her throat and his fingers on her thigh made the carriage tilt around her.
His teeth grazed the sensitive spot beneath her ear, and Mary gripped his shoulder, and another moan slipped from her mouth.
“There,” Evander murmured against her skin. “Just like that.”
His fingers traced higher. The silk gave way to bare skin above her stocking, and the first brush of his fingertips against the soft, warm flesh made Mary gasp. Evander paused. His forehead rested against her temple, his breath unsteady.
“Still all right?” he whispered.
“Yes. Very, very much all right.”
His laugh was low and warm against her ear. “That’s what I like to hear. You’re being such a good girl for me tonight, Mary… let’s see how I can reward you for it.”
His fingers resumed their path, drawing slow patterns on her inner thigh, each one higher than the last, each one building the ache that gathered low in her body.
Mary’s head fell back against the seat. Her fingers twisted in the fabric of his coat. The anticipation was exquisite and unbearable, and Evander seemed to understand both because he took his time, letting the wanting build until Mary’s hips shifted toward his hand of their own accord.
His fingers slid between her thighs and found the pearl of her desire. He slid his fingers inside her moist tunnel as his thumb slowly circled. Her breath hitched, and he increased his rhythm until she bit her lip.
The pleasure built in waves, each one cresting higher than the last, and Evander watched her face through all of it, his eyes never leaving hers, reading her responses with the same focused attention he brought to everything.
His fingers moved with a patience that was devastating, drawing out each sensation, each shudder, each sound she could not contain.
“Yes,” he murmured against her ear, his breath hot on her skin. “That’s right. Let go for me, Mary. Do it for me, sweetheart.”
The permission undid her. She stopped swallowing the sounds.
She let them come, soft and then louder, her voice breaking on his name as the pleasure tightened inside her, coiling and building until every muscle in her body trembled and her fingers gripped his coat and her back arched against the carriage seat.
The release, when it came, swept through her in a rush that stole her breath and her sight and every thought except the feeling of Evander’s arms around her and his mouth against her temple and his voice, low and steady, whispering her name as though it were the only word he knew.
Mary trembled against him. Her body pulsed with the aftershocks, and Evander held her through every second of it, steady and sure, giving her this one thing without reservation because it was the only honest thing he knew how to offer.
The trembling slowed. Her breathing eased from ragged to deep, and her grip on his coat loosened, finger by finger.
The lantern swayed outside the window, painting gold stripes across the seat, and the sounds of the road filled the silence, hoofbeats and wheels and the creak of springs, ordinary sounds that had no idea what had just happened inside.
Evander shifted his weight and drew her against his side. Mary let her head fall to his shoulder. Her hair had come loose, the pins somewhere on the carriage floor, and his arm settled around her, and the darkness inside the cab held them both in a quiet that felt earned rather than empty.
He pressed his lips to the crown of her head. The gesture was small and unhurried, and Mary closed her eyes and let it settle into her skin, because this was the man behind the walls. The one who touched her when the moment was quiet and honest, and no one was watching.
The carriage stopped. Reality pressed against the windows, and with it came the sound that cut through everything.
Tommy’s cry, thin and sharp, carried from an open upstairs window into the night.
Mary sat up. She was reaching for the carriage door before the driver could open it.