Chapter 5
Five
ETTA
“I’m going to kiss you now, Novelina.” His incessant spontaneous nicknames tickled between her thighs, shooting heat up through her abdomen.
She couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t used an array of nicknames with her.
And it had always made her feel special to him.
Probably one of the things she could blame for all the hope that she’d let build in her mind about him all these years.
“What? Why?”
His hands settled on her hips, pulling her closer to him.
“Because I want to. Is that a good enough reason?”
Unnerved, she cleared her throat trying to process what he was saying. Words. They were words coming out of his mouth that sounded a lot like an intention to show physical affection out of pure desire, but that couldn’t be right. Only moments ago he had rejected her.
“But you didn’t want to before?”
He grunted and shook his head. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Why are you doing this, Wilhem? Why now? What changed?” She spoke past the lump and the light scratching of tears burning the back of her throat. The sting of rejection had been real. Painful. Sharp. And now he wanted her. Her neck was sore from the whiplash.
“Etta, about earlier…I wanted to—I’ve always wanted to…but I shouldn’t.”
“Why? I don’t understand.” She knew how she sounded. Exactly like her heart was in her hands.
“Your brother—”
“Leland?” she expelled the word like it was a sour taste in her mouth. “What does Leland have to do with any of this?”
“Everything.”
His eyes bore into her. His intensity contrasted with his cavalier demeanor had always enthralled her. He could act on a whim without a care in the world, yet in the very next second ground her into the deepest realities.
“He wants…better for you.”
The carriage floor shook. Only, it didn’t. Her whole world was threatening to crumble. “Leland?” she gasped. “Forbade you to see me?”
He nodded.
“He had no right—”
“He’s your brother—”
“I don’t care.”
“You should. He’s looking out for you.” Spoken like only a true older brother could relate to.
“You look out for Tilly, but you don’t control her.” Etta’s blood was boiling in her ears.
“We’re different people, Etta.”
“I know, Wilhem. That’s why I want you.”
The words blew up like pyrotechnics between them.
The air was charged and thick. Her inhale heavy.
She waited a beat before feeling him shift in his seat.
Her hands wanted to find purchase on his shoulders.
His chest. His abdomen. Her body shook at the delicious thought. Her secret was out there now.
“You want me, Etta?”
And this was her moment. Now or never. “I’ve always wanted you, Wilhem.”
The next instant changed her life. She only wished she could have savored it. Braced herself for it. Then again, maybe her whole life had been in preparation for this one moment because if she hadn’t had some level of readiness, her entire body might have disintegrated at what happened next.
As it was, her brain exploded the second his lips touched hers.
Mouth on mouth. Tongue on tongue. Heat. Slickness. He was ravishing her at the same time she was trying to devour him, yet she knew nothing of kissing. Only craved contact. Needed him. Her body was screaming at her. Begging her for that of which she knew next to nothing.
“God, Etta. Tell me to stop,” his voice rasped in her ear just before trailing his tongue down her neck and nipping at her shoulder.
“Don’t stop, Wilhem,” she whimpered in response to the ache in her breasts. “You make me feel like a woman. Finally.” She clawed at his shoulders, encouraging him to take his coat off. The second she caught sight of skin, she dipped her hands under his shirt to feel more of him.
His groan called to each and every one of her lady parts. “You’re going to be the death of me, Etta.” And then he arched his hips into her.
A boulder pressed into her core and she hissed.
In a move too quick to process, he had whipped their positions around. She was sitting on the seat and he was on his knees in front of her.
“Lift your skirts for me, Novelina. I want to see you. Let me taste you.”
“Wilhem?” she gasped. “What?”
“Let me show you what it means to worship you.” His hands encircled her ankles and ran up her calves, resting on the back of her knees.
He pulled her to the edge of the seat and gave her a coy smirk.
Then he ducked his head under the skirts she had obediently lifted for him.
She would do anything for him. Anything.
The way he could smile at her melted away any matters of significance.
The way he dodged all the punches life threw his way.
Or took them to the body and moved on just as courageously.
God, she envied—no, admired—his bravery.
The man knew no defeat. He knew how to live life without a plan, something she had never been intrepid enough to try.
The man was unflappable. If only she had an ounce of his unflappability she’d be able to fly.
Or swim. Or…God, her head was muddled and only getting dirtier by the second.
A warm wetness traced her inner thigh and she moaned long and deep. She could feel his raspy sigh on her skin and him murmuring how beautiful she was.
Beautiful? He thought her beautiful? Her heart soared as her hands gripped her skirts tightly.
Distinctly, she heard his voice cut through the clouds of pleasure. “I’m going to taste you now.” His finger slid between her folds. “Here.”
She shifted on the seat, eager for more.
“That’s it. Open for me, storybird.”
And then his mouth was on her most intimate place. His tongue, wide and slow, lapped at her. Pleasure rippled up her spine and down her legs.
“Oh…my,” she panted, “Oh…my.” She mewled as his tongue pressed into her. Deep. And when he pulled out, she felt the loss. That is, only until he started sucking on her core. Pressure mounted inside of her. Like she was racing across the water up and over a cresting wave.
He stopped.
“Wilhem” she whimpered, “don’t stop.”
“Mmmm…you taste so good, Etta. I have to make this last.”
Her legs wanted to squeeze together when his tongue touched back down, but his strong hands held her fast. The more he licked and sucked, the more she writhed against his face.
And like he could sense the cresting wave, he would stop and take a breath.
Then restart. Her body was on fire. Like a volcano about to explode. Water. Fire. Heat. Explosion.
He suctioned himself to her core and held on.
“Oh my God!” She screamed. “Wilhem! Oh my God.” Flustered. Frantic. Fumbling. She flung her skirts aside looking for him to hold. The sight of his head between her legs rocked through her, and she clawed her hands through his hair, holding him in place.
And then her body gave up. The wave crashed. The volcano erupted. Her mind exploded. But her heart sang.
This was what she’d been missing her entire life. Wilhem. Worshipping her. Could there be anything better?