Chapter Nine #3
The acute sensitivity of her nipples made his touch both painful and pleasurable in a way she’d never known was possible. Nor had she guessed that she’d enjoy it as much as she was this moment.
His mouth reached the gaping edge of her bodice, sucking at her skin, and she knew she wanted his mouth on her breast, but it was not possible, not in this dress.
She threaded her fingers into his hair, then dragged one hand to his chest, hindered by his jacket.
She wanted to feel his body. Her hand drifted lower and an idea formed in her passion fogged mind.
She kept going, waiting for him to stop her, to give her a signal that she shouldn’t, but he hungrily feasted on her skin and neck, his fingers toying with her peaked nipple, slightly tugging and making her head spin with desire.
She reached his outer thigh, near his hip. All she had to do was slid her hand inward.
“Don’t you dare,” he said against her skin.
Felicity froze. “What?”
He lifted his head to meet her gaze. “If you touch me right now, I’ll come in my breeches like a damn greenhorn and I’ll never forgive you.” They both dropped their gazes to his groin where the obscene outline of his manhood displayed his need.
“I don’t understand anything you just said. I’m sorry. I just wanted to make you feel like I do.”
“I know, love. Believe me, if we were somewhere else, I’d let you do whatever you want with my cock.
Stroke it, suck it, recite poetry to it, but right here, right now, is not the time for me to spill all over my trousers and leave this carriage, announcing to the world that I’ve got the stamina of a frisky lad after his first touch of a breast.”
Felicity pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh at his absurd descriptions. She was beginning to understand him now. “What is a greenhorn?” she asked out of curiosity.
“A young horned animal, but the term also describes an inexperienced boy.”
“Inexperienced in touching breasts?”
“Inexperienced in holding back his pleasure until after his lady love has had hers.”
“Oh,” the way he said love made her stomach float pleasantly.
“We should repair ourselves,” he said. “We’re almost to our destination.”
“Which is?”
“The Chambers of the House of Lords.”
“What’s the package?”
“Could be a severed head for all I know,” he answered.
“What!”
“No,” he teased. “Mrs. Dove-Lyon is a lot of things but to my knowledge not a murderess. Likely it’s an incentive for someone to do something she wants.”
“Oh.”
The carriage turned and Felicity rebuttoned her pelisse. She didn’t bother to hide her interest as Tristan adjusted himself in his breeches.
“Tell me about your mother?” he asked.
“Why?”
“So I can stop thinking about sucking on your nipples.”
“Oh.” Felicity blushed, not just in her cheeks but the wash of heat flooded every part of her.
“Well, she likes to sing. Father discouraged it, but she still sang to us when we were falling asleep or sick or hurt. She has a lovely voice, high pitched and airy like a bird. One time, when I was about eight years old, father was away for the afternoon, and I was helping my mother pull vegetables in the garden. She was singing, louder than I’d ever heard her, filling the air with her voice and it was the loveliest sound I’d ever heard.
I wasn’t the only one who thought so. Birds started to perch along the stone wall that separates our garden from the cemetery.
More and more arrived, filling the trees around us.
There was a little blue bird with a white face and yellow chest—I don’t know what it was, but it kept hopping closer and closer to her.
She put her hand on the ground and lowered her voice to a soft lullaby, and that little bird hopped right into her hand. ”
He put his arm around her. “What happened then?”
“She told me to hold out my hand, but I was too scared. I’d thought he’d fly away, and I didn’t want to ruin this moment for her, because she looked so happy, singing, smiling, her cheeks red from the sun.
But she insisted, so I did. I put out my hand, and to my surprise the little bird hopped into my palm.
I didn’t breathe. I didn’t want him to fly away.
I swear he looked at me, right in the eyes.
” She leaned into him, still astonished by how natural and comfortable it was to be close to him.
“My mother started to sing again, and I swear to you, it was like something magical was in the air. More birds got closer. She put her arms out, and they perched there, chirping. The garden was so loud, and I was smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. My mother finished her song, and she smiled at me, tears running down her cheeks. She thanked the birds, and they flew away, one after another. My little bird too. I’ve never forgotten that day.
I’ve never forgotten how happy she was, singing in the sun in her garden and how the world rejoiced with her. ”
“That’s incredible, Flick,” he said as he tucked a curl behind her ear.
“I know. I haven’t thought of that memory in so long. But every chance I got, I looked for that little blue bird. There was always a nest of them by that wall in spring, and they’d run along the top, watching my mother garden.”
The carriage came to a stop and Tristan reluctantly pulled away. He opened the door, handing her out. Felicity panicked and patted her hair.
“You look as lovely as ever, Flick.” He leaned closer. “And not at all like I’ve had my hands and lips all over you.”
She blushed and elbowed him. “You’re incorrigible.” She looked around. “Perhaps I should stay in the carriage?”
Tristan looked around the commons. It wasn’t too busy, and no one would notice her, but she could if it made her more comfortable.
“The driver will wait here if that is what you wish.”
She tugged at the wrists of her red gloves. “I think I will.”
“I’ll only be a moment.”