Chapter 20
Sophie scuffed her foot against the floor to cover the noise Nicholas had made. “I am a bit warm,” she said, eager to distract her mother from looking too closely into the room.
She grabbed Lady Carlisle’s hand and put it to her forehead. As she’d expected, her mother frowned.
“You are a touch overheated,” Lady Carlisle said, turning her hand so the backs of her fingers were pressed to Sophie’s forehead. “Perhaps I should sit with you.”
Dropping her mother’s hand, Sophie shook her head. “Betsy is bringing me a bowl of cool water and a cloth. I’ll lie with the cloth on my forehead and try to sleep. My chest and throat are fine, so I’m certain it’s nothing serious.”
“All right.” Her mother moved backward. “Send for me if your symptoms worsen.”
“I will.”
Sophie breathed a sigh of relief and thanked the heavens that her mother wasn’t overly maternal. If she’d been more like Lady Drake, Sophie doubted it would have been so easy to get rid of her.
“Good night.”
“Sweet dreams, Mother.”
She closed the door and turned the key as quietly as possible—if Lady Carlisle heard it, she’d no doubt be suspicious—then she marched over to the curtains and yanked the one beside the wardrobe back to reveal Nicholas.
“How difficult is it to be quiet?” she demanded, glaring up at him.
His hand was plastered to his mouth, and his shoulders trembled with suppressed laughter. He didn’t look sorry at all.
She jabbed him in the chest. “She could have heard you.”
He lowered his hand and snickered. “I can only imagine how she’d react if she knew why you were truly flushed.”
Her cheeks burned, and she had no doubt they were even redder than they’d been moments earlier. “You are incorrigible.”
He pulled her into his arms. She buried her face in his chest, her eyes narrowing as she felt rapid puffs of breath against the top of her head.
He was still laughing, the cad.
Nevertheless, she wrapped her arms around him. “I’m going to have to get used to you misbehaving, aren’t I?”
“I’m unlikely to change now.” He released her and seemed to get himself under control, although the corner of his mouth kept tugging up into a half smile. “I’d best return to my room before anyone notices something amiss.”
“Wait!”
He stopped, one eyebrow raised.
A sense of urgency pulsed through her. He hadn’t actually made any kind of commitment to her. If he walked away now, would he decide while they were apart that she wasn’t worth risking a rift between himself and his mother?
She couldn’t bear it if everything went back to the way it was. Not when she finally knew how it felt to have him kiss her and look at her as if she was special.
She couldn’t lose him.
Perhaps if he stayed for just a while longer, he’d see how perfect they were for each other. She could—
“Sophie?” he asked when she didn’t go on.
“May I have more kisses?” she asked, reveling in the way his warmth bled through the fabric of their clothes. “Just one or two?”
His expression softened, and he kissed her forehead. “You may have all the kisses you want, but let’s get comfortable first.”
He guided her to the bed and helped her lie down, then stretched himself alongside her. There was something appealing about seeing him this way, all tender gazes and languid limbs.
She wriggled closer to him, staring at his lips. They were slightly swollen from kissing her and… doing that. Would she taste herself on them?
She brushed her lips over his, frissons of awareness skating over her nerves as he laid his hand on her hip. Was his touch possessive, or was that wishful thinking?
Fortunately, he took over the kiss, because her courage only went so far. His tongue delved into her mouth, and there was a hint of something she thought might have been her own flavor. Her cheeks burned, but she didn’t acknowledge it.
Their lips parted briefly—enough for her to snatch a breath—and then joined again.
The kiss went on and on, her body melting farther into the mattress with each caress. The effect was drugging. Not a single clear thought remained in her head, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
She skimmed her hands down his body, tracing the contours of his ribs and abdomen, his hips, and down over his bottom. Then, too intrigued to resist, she circled around to his front and slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his trousers.
He gasped. “Do you even—”
Before he could finish, she was exploring the rigid flesh beneath, her mouth falling open in surprise at the shape and heft of it. She’d known for years that men were built differently from women, but she’d had little idea of what to expect.
His member was longer than her hand from wrist to fingertip and thick enough that she could only just get her fingers properly around it. The skin was smooth and hot, and there was a thatch of hair at its base.
“Fascinating,” she whispered, trailing her fingers along the length.
He groaned, his hips twitching. “I can’t say anyone’s ever had that reaction to it before.”
She smirked. “Good. I don’t want to hear about anyone else or their reactions. How can I make you feel good?”
“You already are.”
She rolled her eyes. She’d expected a known rogue to have less inhibition about telling her what he wanted. “Do you like to have it licked, as you did with me?”
His shaft flexed in her hand.
“Yes, but if you do that, I might go up in smoke. You can stroke me. Move your hand up and down.”
She tried to do as he’d suggested, but his trousers were in the way. Withdrawing her hand from inside them, she attacked the button to give herself more room to work.
“Whoa.” He covered her hand with his. “We should stop.”
She met his dark eyes. They were almost entirely black, his cheeks as red as hers no doubt were. “Why?”
Grimacing, he tugged one of his hands through his hair and sat up. “Because you’re an innocent. I shouldn’t ruin you.”
She cocked her head. “If you marry me, then you wouldn’t be ruining me.”
He closed his eyes and flopped back onto the bed. “You’re temptation incarnate. The devil on my shoulder.”
Her stomach fluttered, and a grin stole across her face.
“I’ve always wanted to be considered devilish, but I’ve had to try so hard to behave properly.
Because of Violet, people were always waiting for me to put a foot out of line, even hoping I would so they could turn on me like they did her.
It’s only because of Emma that I’m accepted.
It’s a lot of pressure. Can’t we be naughty just this once? ”
His eyelashes fluttered open, and he eyed her. “I believe we’ve been naughty more than once, my little firebrand.”
Heat pooled low in her core. When he called her that, it made her feel powerful.
Seductive.
She straddled him and whispered, “Ruin me.”
He sat up, shifting her weight so that the V of her thighs hovered over his crotch, then he palmed the side of her face and kissed her. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Everything.” She wet her lips, scarcely daring to breathe. “I want everything.”
Would he turn her away? Push her off him?
Or would he draw her closer?
His eyes searched hers. “Do you understand what that means?”
“I understand enough.” She raised her chin, hoping he wouldn’t notice the slight quiver of her lower lip. The truth was, she knew very little about what happened between a man and a woman.
Both Kate and Emma had alluded to it being something very enjoyable, but neither had shared details. Emma had promised to talk with her when Sophie became betrothed.
He sighed, and her heart fell.
“I won’t take your innocence today,” he said, giving voice to the rejection she’d been bracing for. “But there are other acts you might enjoy. Do you trust me?”
She nodded immediately. She didn’t even have to think on the matter.
He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbling. “Move from me.”
She pouted.
“Only for a moment,” he promised.
She slid off of him. He started toward the edge of the bed, and she scrambled after him, grabbing for his arm.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. “I’m taking my shoes off.”
Oh.
She gave him space, relieved when he reached down to untie his shoelaces rather than making a run for the door. He removed both shoes, finished undoing his trouser buttons, and slid them down over his narrow hips. The fabric pooled on the floor, and he stepped out of it and climbed onto the bed.
Sophie couldn’t take her eyes off his legs. They were long and toned, dusted with coarse, dark hair. Far more muscular than hers—perhaps from all the riding he did.
He crawled up the bed and leaned against the headboard. His shirt rode up, revealing the part of him she’d had her hand on earlier. It was angled upward, flushed red, and its head was shiny with some sort of liquid.
He beckoned her forward, a wicked grin curving his mouth. “You know how to ride.”
“I do,” she agreed, uncertain where he was leading this conversation.
He patted his thighs. “Straddle me, and then I want you to ride me like you do those horses.”
Ride him?
Her eyes widened, and she tilted her head, trying to figure out exactly how she was supposed to do that.
He patted his thighs again, and she straddled them as he’d asked. He grabbed handfuls of her skirts and petticoats and lifted them so that there was nothing between his naked body and her most private parts.
As she settled into place, that hard member aligned perfectly with her sex, and she gasped, the friction exquisite, especially at the bundle of nerves he’d toyed with earlier.
Suddenly, the concept of riding him made a lot more sense.
The fluid she’d seen at the head of his shaft combined with her own wetness provided lubrication as she rocked back on her heels and then forward again, gliding along his length.
Her head fell back, and sparks zapped along her nerves. Nicholas kissed her throat and mouthed at the crook of her neck. She clutched at his shoulders to hold herself in place and repeated the movement with her hips.
Oh. That was nice.
Nicholas gripped her hips, his fingers tight enough that she imagined he’d leave imprints on her skin.
She’d love nothing more.
“That’s it,” he urged as he guided her, showing her how to make it feel even better.
“Is this….” Her breath caught, and she bit her lower lip. “Is this as good for you as it is for me?”
He groaned and held her gaze. “Better, love.”
Love.
Her heart squeezed.
She knew he’d meant it as a term of endearment and that it wasn’t actually a proclamation of his feelings for her, but her silly heart was prepared to believe he’d fallen head over heels for her after overlooking her for so long.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t hurt her.
She trusted him not to physically harm her or do anything to cause society to shun her, but emotional safety was another matter entirely.
Pushing the worry to the back of her mind, she focused on how utterly delicious it was to ride the man of her dreams so shamelessly in a guestroom with her mother just across the hall.
Her breath came faster, the tangle of pleasure inside her growing tighter, warmth spreading throughout her limbs. Nicholas held her in place and worked himself against her, providing friction even when she was in too much of a pleasure haze to do anything more than take it.
Tingles rippled through her and then exploded out. Her empty channel clenched around nothing, and she buried her face in the side of his neck to stifle her cry.
He growled, long and low, and then wetness coated the insides of her thighs. She pulled up her skirt, curious. A clear, thick fluid had spurted onto her skin.
“That’s my spend,” Nicholas explained. “When I climaxed, that’s what results.”
She dipped her fingers into it and rubbed. “Interesting.”
He chuckled. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
She rolled off him and snuggled up to his side, taking care to protect her petticoats from his spend as much as possible because she didn’t know how she would explain that to Betsy.
She stared at the ceiling, her heart racing, and a giggle burst from her. “I never imagined my time as a debutante would end quite like this.”
Nicholas went tense.
Her stomach dropped. Had she misspoken? Did he intend to debauch her and then not marry her? He did say they hadn’t done the full deed, after all.
“Nicholas?”