Chapter Twenty #2
He grinned, the contemplation sliding from his face to be replaced by wickedness.
He unhooked his fingers from hers, then slid his palm against her cheek.
His thumb brushed her lower lip, the way it always seemed to when he wanted to entice her into doing or saying something inappropriate.
No one had ever made her feel like this before.
“Not when we first met, admittedly,” he murmured, leaning in.
“But darling, may I remind you that on occasion of our first meeting, I had just been driving for hours through the night and you held a gun to my head.”
“After you ushered me into your carriage thinking I was my sister!”
“Not my finest hour, I’ll admit. And yet, I can’t bring myself to say I’m sorry for it. Are you shocked?” He brushed his mouth over her cheek, and she threw all resolutions about kissing, and the quantity thereof, away.
One more night, one more room, one more time.
“Very shocked,” she told him. His nose brushed hers. They swayed with the motion of the cart. A stray piece of straw poked her in the back, and she knew the steady breeze had turned her neat bun into a frizzy mess. Yet for all that, she felt overheated, her skin sensitive under her clothes.
“Liar,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her neck.
She shivered. “What if Old Tom sees us?”
“He’s not looking,” Oliver said. “And he appears to be as deaf as a post.”
“Don’t point out his deficiencies when he’s driving us.”
“The horses are driving; he’s merely pretending to guide them.”
“Much you would know on the subject,” she retorted, her words breathy at the feeling of his mouth moving against her skin. He kissed her pulse point, trailing his tongue up the column of her throat.
“I like it when you’re shrewish,” he said, looking at her again, hazel eyes sparking. “I like it rather a lot.”
“You might be the first person to have said that.”
“Then I can say with utter certainty that everyone else in your life is an idiot.”
She laughed, dizzy with pleasure from the ridiculous compliment.
Foolish, a voice in the back of her head said. This is how it always starts.
He dragged his mouth along her jaw. “I liked it when you blindfolded me. I would like you to do it again tonight.”
“Is that why you intend us to stay overnight in Bridekirk?”
“Not the only reason. But I can’t deny it was a factor.” He looked at her with lust-drunk eyes. “Do you object?”
“I said once.”
“Then tell me to arrange two rooms for us, and I shall.”
She wouldn’t. They both knew they had come too far for that; if she had intended to turn him down and reject him, she would already have done so.
“I’m glad,” he said into the silence, his voice sinking lower. “I’m not ready to lose you yet.”
A shiver rolled over her skin. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”
“Why not, if they’re true? I know you won’t let me do the honourable thing, so let me do the dishonourable thing instead.
” He flashed her another wicked grin. “Or rather, let me convince you to dishonour me thoroughly. However you would have me.” He slid his hand to her waist, urging her onto him.
She slid her knees either side of his thighs, perching atop his legs as though they were in a bed, or a chair, not in the bed of a cart rattling slowly along a winter road.
“You may choose the means, so long as you choose me.” His hazel eyes speared her. “Just for tonight.”
She braced herself against his good shoulder. “Just for tonight,” she agreed.
“I know better than to try and keep you any longer.” He urged her down for a kiss, and she allowed herself to sink a little deeper into him. His good hand reached up her side to cup her breast, and she bit back a gasp, glancing to where Old Tom sat before the horses, oblivious.
Mischief sparked in Oliver’s eyes, and when she shifted, she felt his arousal underneath her.
How was it that in such a place, at such a temperature, her body could still respond in this way?
As though he sparked a storm within her, and she crackled with lightning and thunder, an excess of sensation that made her fingers burn with the urge to touch him.
“Go on,” he murmured, his voice hypnotic. “You know you want to.”
She threaded her fingers through his hair, and he released a long breath as she dragged his head back.
Then, just as he had done to her, she kissed along his throat, ghosting her lips across his Adam’s apple, the tendons that tensed at the press of her mouth.
She let herself taste his skin, and he bared his throat to her the way a rabbit might offer itself to the wolf.
“Admit you want this,” he said to the sky, his voice so low she almost felt rather than heard it. “I know you do, but I want to hear you say it.”
She tightened her hold on his hair, relishing the way heat leapt into his gaze, the way she felt his pulse speed as she pressed her fingers against the hollow of his throat.
“Will you beg?” she asked, tugging him back to face her.
“On my knees, if I must.” His breath warmed her lips. “Whatever it takes. I can be patient. With you, darling, I can be as patient as you need.”
“A rash promise to make,” she said, and kissed him again.