Chapter Twenty
Edmund was brought back to himself by the gentle caress of fingertips trailing softly over his shoulders and her soft breath bathing his shoulder.
When her warm, sweat-slick body shifted beneath him, he lifted his head.
Her expression was hard to read. The flush remained on her cheeks and her lips were swollen from kisses, but her eyes were shuttered. Her jaw was firm and her brows straight.
Edmund frowned. “Alright?”
Her hands fluttered to his sides and she whispered, “Can’t breathe.”
With a laugh, he quickly scooped his arms around her and rolled to his back, bringing her along to rest atop him. His cock remained lodged within her, but as it slowly softened, he knew he’d soon have to address the matter of the sheath.
But damn, he didn’t want to leave her just yet.
“What do you feel?” he asked, his voice rough and thick.
She sighed and closed her eyes. Then she planted her hands on his chest and angled away from him. His arms fell to the mattress as a horrid feeling washed through him.
Had she hated it?
Did she hate him?
But she didn’t leave him completely. She simply pushed herself up to sit astride him. The downward pressure of her body allowed him to stay fully inside her. And gave him an amazing view of her body. Both of which combined to send a swift pulse of blood back to his half-hard member.
Stunned, he stared at her. Taking in the glisten of her skin, the deep curve of her hips and waist. The gentle slopes of her breasts and the thick tendrils of dark hair that had loosened from her pins to fall over her shoulders and brush teasingly over her peaked nipples.
Gorgeous.
Then her gaze met him and a shock of lightning jolted through his chest.
“I feel…invigorated,” she admitted with a hint of awe. “Like I could conquer the world.”
Edmund laughed, sweeping his hands up her thighs. “That’s a new one.”
She tilted her head. “Why?”
“Usually, I leave women sated and weakened as they drift into a satisfied slumber.”
He noted an odd flicker in her eyes before she shrugged and shifted her seat.
With a grunt, he reached down between them to hold onto the sheath. “I should take care of this.”
“Right,” she murmured, then carefully lifted herself off of him.
The loss of her heat was an almost painful thing. He rolled away from her and rose from the bed, then strode to the washstand to remove the sheath and clean himself.
For the first time in his memory, he felt oddly…awkward.
He should probably leave. Right? Allow her to process the experience as she needed?
“Would you like a drink?”
He glanced over his shoulder at the question and saw her dressed in a blue robe, belted around the waist. She stood in the middle of the room and gestured to a side table. “I only have claret, but I could pour a glass if you’d like.”
Pleasure rippled through him. “If you’ll join me.”
The corner of her mouth lifted and she gave a nod.
As she turned away to pour the wine, Edmund strode to the bed and retrieved his pants.
He’d have been happy to lounge nude, but took a cue from her actions and secured the breeches.
By the time he was finished, he turned to find her already seated on an elegant sofa, facing the fireplace which had lowered to hot coals.
Edmund stirred the coals and added a bit of fuel to the fire before taking a seat beside her. As soon as he did, he felt something brush against his legs. Startled, he glanced down to see a motley-colored feline blinking up at him.
He didn’t recall seeing a cat earlier. But he’d only had eyes for Lydia since he climbed through the window.
Leaning forward, he smoothed his hand along the cat’s back.
It arched to meet his stroke, then turned to hop up into his lap where it curled up to stay a while.
Edmund glanced to Lydia who watched the interaction with a curious expression.
“That’s Independence,” she said softly as she handed him his glass of wine. “Her sister, Rebellion, is somewhere about. She’s a bit more timid.”
His lips quirked. “Interesting names.”
“I was inspired by Hannah More,” she answered casually, “who named her feline companions Passive Obedience and Non-Resistance.”
Edmund had no idea who Hannah More was, but he made a mental note to find out. If she inspired the woman before him, she was undoubtedly a fascinating person.
As they sipped their wine, she turned her gaze to the fire.
Edmund continued to pet the creature purring very loudly in his lap, but an ache formed in his chest as he studied the woman beside him.
She was so damned pensive. Her focus had turned fully inward as she stared into the rising flames. He suddenly felt like an intruder.
*
Lydia could feel him staring at her. But she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to think. She wasn’t sure she still knew how to think. Everything was pure sensation and rising emotion.
Her body still hummed and buzzed with the pleasure that had rushed through her.
Three separate times.
Just thinking of the profoundly beautiful experience sent a shower of tingling chills through her body. Her core still pulsed with the memory of him plunging into her. Awakening deep parts of her with every stretching stroke. Claiming her.
Her breath caught. Her body tensed.
No. Not claiming. She was not his.
He didn’t even want her. Not in any lasting way. This was an experience. Designed to educate and unshackle her from the arbitrary boundaries imposed upon women’s lives.
She exhaled. Then sipped her wine.
In that sense, it had been extremely successful. She’d been so free, she’d quite nearly taken flight.
Three times.
She chuckled with an odd bubble of giddiness.
“Well, don’t leave me out of the joke,” the earl said, bringing her gaze to him finally. “What’s so amusing?”
She couldn’t answer at first. The sight of him lounging with such indolent, sensual grace in the corner of her sofa, her cat curled contentedly in his lap, caught every ounce of her focus.
Wearing only his breeches with the top fastening undone, he stretched one arm along the back of the sofa while the other balanced his glass on his hard thigh.
One foot was planted to the floor, while the other leg was bent and rested on an open position on the cushioned seat, his knee inches from her thigh.
His body was lovely. Muscled. Broad across the shoulders, trim at the waist and hips. A sprinkling of dark hair on his chest and arms.
The question in his expression slowly turned to deeper amusement the longer she openly stared at him. Lowering his chin, he pulled the corners of his skillful mouth into a roguish smirk. “Now, that’s more hunger than humor in your eyes, luv.”
“You don’t need to do that,” she blurted. When his brows tugged in confusion, she clarified, “The false endearment. I imagine it typically comes along with what we…just did. But I’d rather keep things honest between us. No need to put pretty colors on it.”
He was quiet for a moment, his expression shifting into something she couldn’t read. Then he tipped his head in an acknowledging nod. “No pretty colors. Got it.”
He took a long sip of his wine. Staring at her.
Lydia looked away. She should be pleased by his ready agreement. She’d needed the reminder after reacting so warmly and viscerally to his words. But she wasn’t pleased.
Another quiet moment passed as they sipped and stared. She at the fire. He at her.
The tension was too much. Lydia groaned and slid him a sideways glance. “This awkwardness is awful. Is it common?”
He chuckled. “It can be. Usually, I’m out the door before this happens.”
“Of course,” she retorted without malice, her lips curving. “Ever the rake. There for the fun. Gone as soon as it’s done.”
He grinned back at her and lifted his glass. “It’s really not a bad way to live, if you’re interested.”
She laughed and arched a brow. “Me? Become a lady rake?”
“You’d have men lining up at your bedroom door.” His eyes darkened as soon as he finished speaking. His jaw clenched and he glanced away. “On second thought. It’s a terrible idea.”
“Oh?” Lydia didn’t miss the shift in his tone. Curious and amused, she turned toward him. Bracing herself on one hand, she leaned forward. “Why is that?”
He gave her a weighted look, appearing rather put out.
Holding back a laugh, she tilted her head thoughtfully.
“It might be interesting to see if I could manage such a lifestyle. There’s a significant difference between a rake and a courtesan, isn’t there?
A courtesan relies upon her benefactors for her well-being and comfort.
Whereas a rake simply flits from one partner to another, requiring nothing but momentary companionship.
The total lack of commitment would be nice, leaving me free to do as I please.
I can see why you enjoy a rakish existence. ”
She paused to drink her claret, sneaking a glance at him over the rim. His countenance had gone stoic as he stared at her, not moving a muscle.
“It’s not for you,” he muttered.
Lydia laughed. “I know. It’s a little astonishing you didn’t realize I was teasing from the start. Society would never allow a woman to behave in such a way.”
He continued to eye her strangely. “Society? That’s what would stop you?”
“No. I’m quite certain I’d prefer quality over quantity when it comes to…” Her gaze slid toward her rumpled bed. Heat flooded through her.
That seemed to break through his momentary tension as a familiar smile lifted his lips. “Ah. Nice to see you can recognize a good thing when you’ve got it.”
Lydia rolled her eyes, but then met his with an earnest gaze. Her voice was husky and intimate. “It was better than good.”
His grin slipped as sparks danced in his stare. “It was.” He cleared his throat. “But while we’re on the subject, I’d like to suggest that we…limit ourselves to each other. For the time being.”
She tilted her head, not quite understanding. “What do you mean?”
“While we’re engaged in this mission to release your sensuality from a dreadful state of repression, you agree not to take any other lovers.”
Lydia blinked. “But haven’t we already accomplished that mission?”
Holding her with an insolent stare, he replied, “We’ve only just begun.”
Her heart leapt into a racing speed, and something melted inside her, flooding her with desire. “And you’ll agree to the same? No other lovers.”
His focus fell to her lips. “Of course,” he muttered thickly.
Something distressing swirled through her belly. “Are you certain you won’t feel…deprived or bored?”
His amber gaze flashed, and he leaned forward just enough to grasp her nape and pull her toward him, disturbing Independence, who hopped to the floor and walked sulkily away.
Lydia draped herself atop his reclined form.
Staring into her eyes, he took her mouth—with long licks of his wine-soaked tongue—until she was breathless and soft and hungry for more.
Without a doubt, the man knew how to kiss. By the time he released her mouth, she wanted to crawl into his lap and demand he slide his hands beneath her robe.
She didn’t.
Why didn’t she?
Because she wasn’t sure she’d survive another round of his lovemaking just now without wanting to lock him in her bedroom forever.
Goodness, was hedonism contagious?
The thought made her laugh, the sound bubbling from her throat unbidden.
His expression of subtle affront made her laugh more, and she pulled back to settle on her side of the sofa.
“Care to share?” he asked with arched brows.
“No,” she replied simply, watching him decide if he wished to pursue it.
After a moment, he shrugged, set his wineglass on the floor, and rose to his feet, reaching his arms overhead in a long stretch.
Lydia was captivated by the play of muscle and sinew. The strength and sensuality and strange intimacy of the act was not lost on her.
Giving her a pleased look that said he’d caught her staring, he flashed a smile. “I should be gone before morning creeps too near.”
Lydia nodded. One part of her brain wanted to say thank you. Another part wanted to insist he stay. And yet another felt utterly at a loss. It was the last part that she went with, keeping silent as he moved about the room, retrieving his clothing.
When he was fully dressed, he returned to her, offering his hand.
Without thought, she took it and he instantly pulled her to her feet and into his arms. Another deep, drugging kiss spun her thoughts and weakened her muscles.
Then he flashed a smile and a moment later had slipped through the window into the gray before dawn.
Lydia remained on the sofa, sipping the last of her wine. Then finishing his, as well.
She didn’t find her bed until the sky was a peachy-pink. And didn’t fall asleep until sometime after that.