Chapter 11 #2
Reluctantly, she pulled back and turned to face him.
A purely feminine satisfaction welled within her at the sight of him.
He’d never looked so wrecked, not even after dozens of rounds in the ring.
His breath came in sharp pants that put his time at the heavy bag to shame.
A flush pooled in his cheeks and down his chest. His pupils had dilated widely.
Bella waited, patient, until his gaze caught hers before sliding one arm, then the other, free from her dress. Miles’s hands twitched at his sides, as though longing to touch.
Instead of allowing that, she tipped her head toward his feet. “Boots.”
He caught the heel of one with the toe of the other and kicked the worn black leather free before repeating the process and nudging them to one side. His gaze never left her as she worked her petticoat down to the floor and stepped free.
Slowly, she turned and offered him her back again. “Laces.”
“Bella…” he cautioned, even as his fingers rose for the cords lining her spine.
“This is my choice, Miles. Does your objection stem from some noble, self-sacrificing idiocy? Or something practical?”
“You want this? Here? Now?” She felt him tug one end of the bow.
“Yes.”
He pulled the second end loose before shoving the straps off her shoulders. Warm hands fell to her hips and pulled her to him again. His hardness pressed against the cleft of her bottom, proud and unashamed.
“How do you want me?” he whispered against the notch where her jaw met her neck.
“On the chaise.”
“Alright.” Miles pulled back and rounded her to sit as directed. He clutched at the white linen of her chemise, then pulled her to stand before him, slotted between his thighs.
Bella cupped his cheek in one hand and took the moment to study him.
Gone were the last whispers of adolescence.
His cheeks had sharpened. He was solid now, no longer defined by limbs that were slightly too long for his frame.
Lines had made their way to the corners of his eyes.
His nose had been broken once or twice in the years since they’d last done this.
But his eyes, that clear, adoring blue, were precisely the same as they had always been.
“Acceptable?” he asked.
“Tolerable.”
A laugh escaped him as his hand snatched at her thigh. With a playful growl, he hauled her up to straddle his thighs. One arm banded about her waist, the other playing with the linen rucked around her thighs.
“I love you,” he whispered, even as he shook his head. “I love when you insult me. Do it again.”
Clutching both cheeks, she leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together. “I really have ruined you, haven’t I?”
“Yes.” His nod was eager, knocking her head with the motion. “Can I kiss you?”
“I supp—”
Miles, too eager, claimed her lips before she could finish the word.
The desperation that had tinged their previous kisses remained. But this time, she found an unfamiliar levity. She could taste it in the curve of his smile, the tickle of his fingers on her ribs, feel it in the crinkle at the corner of his eyes beneath her fingers.
Slowly, the hand on her thigh dipped down, down, down, to catch the edge of her chemise before retracing the journey, this time on bare flesh.
“Can I taste you?” he whispered against her lips.
“What?”
Miles pulled back, gaze catching hers before dipping to her mound—still covered by linen—and back to hers. “Please. A hundred times I’ve regretted that I didn’t that night. A thousand. A thousand thousand.”
“I— That is done?”
“Probably not in your circles, Lady Arabella.” His cheeky dimple appeared between her fingers.
His hand slid higher still, shifting to her inner thigh and continuing its journey impossibly slowly.
“You’ve found yourself a coarse, working-class man, darling.
We get our hands dirty—hands and anything else the chore requires. ”
“I am not a chore, Miles Weston,” she retorted primly, even as she shifted her hips to encourage his hand.
“You’re a little bit of a chore. No reason to fret though, I like hard work.”
Bella flicked his nose in punishment.
“Please, Bella.” Miles punctuated the request by finally reaching the apex of her thighs and sliding his fingers along her damp flesh.
A part of her wanted to know if he would truly beg, but it was overshadowed by curiosity. She always did like to know things she wasn’t supposed to.
She nodded.
“Yes,” he hissed and twisted to lie back against the pillow. Before she had a moment to catch her bearings, he had hauled her by the thighs up to his chest.
“Miles!”
He froze, dimple deepening. “Say it again.”
“You cannot simply drag me about like a sack of potatoes… Miles.”
“You like it.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You like that I can put you where I want you—that I’m not like all those polite little lords. All those years, watching me at the heavy bag, hauling hay and grain… I saw your gaze wandering while I dug that field—don’t try to deny it. All this strength and I just use it to mind you.”
Her stomach swooped at the truth of his words. But Bella was constitutionally incapable of agreeing with him when he was at his most cocky.
“Are you going to get on with it, then?”
Miles dipped his head in a single nod. “Aye.”
He gathered the folds of her chemise with one hand as he shifted her weight over a shoulder with the other.
“Oomph.” Bella pitched forward, catching herself with one hand on the armrest and the other clutching his hair.
As soon as she regained her balance, she loosened her fingers, moving the other hand to brace against the armrest as well.
Miles caught her hand and set it back atop the damp strands of his hair.
Bella raised a brow at the man who offered an impish grin. “Don’t hold back,” he murmured before diving beneath her skirts.
She’d had no notion of what to expect, but even if she had, Bella never could have anticipated the slick slide of his tongue along her center. “Miles!”
The answering smile was pressed against her folds before his lips closed around the little bundle of pleasure above her opening. Bella’s fist tightened involuntarily around his locks, earning a groan.
Breathy moans ripped from her chest with each swipe of his tongue up and around her bud—nearly achieving perfection on instinct alone.
“Other way,” she demanded with a jerk of her hand. Miles complied immediately, changing the direction of his rotation even as his fingers dug into the flesh of her waist.
“Slower.”
He groaned his assent, adjusting his pace to meet the instinctive sway of her hips.
Heat bloomed along Bella’s cheeks and down to her chest. With her spare hand, she untied the drawstring bow between her breasts, freeing one breast for her fingers to toy with.
Pleasure danced along her spine, coiling low in her belly. With her free hand, she rucked her chemise out of the way to find Miles’s eyes. Freed from his fabric prison, he met her gaze. His eyes crinkled at the corners in fondness, and her heart skipped.
His fingers soothed along her thigh, even as his lips stole her sanity. He sucked her pearl between his lips, and Bella’s head fell back on a gasp.
“More, please.”
And Miles submitted to her vague demand, driving her higher, faster, harder, toward her inevitable peak.
Strong fingers clasped her around the waist, ripping her away from his lips. The squeak escaped Bella without permission as he settled her back around his thighs. When he’d unbuttoned his falls, she hadn’t the slightest idea.
“What the damned hell?” she demanded, her center clenching on nothing.
“Want you to come on my cock,” he said as he pressed up to seated. He wiped his glistening face with the back of his hand as though that were a perfectly reasonable explanation for pulling her away at the worst possible moment.
She shoved his shoulder with a trembling hand. “You arse!”
“Your arse,” he murmured, leaning forward to trail his lips along her jaw.
“You didn’t think that just because I love you I’d stop infuriating you.
” Beneath her, he thrust his hips, pressing his hard length low against her belly.
Simultaneously, he tugged her chemise to one side, freeing one breast to slide his hand inside and cup the tight bud.
“If you think you can charm me after you just...” Bella’s words failed her as her hips chased his heat of their own accord.
“You’ve been insulting me for weeks, darling. I’m fit to pop.” He dipped his tongue to trace the neckline of her chemise before closing over the nipple he’d freed. He traced his tongue across the bud before pulling away with an obscene, demonstrative pop.
“I need to feel you around me, though. Had to make sure you were close. Couldn’t live with myself if I fell apart before you had your peak.”
Most of Bella’s reserve melted away—not all. But, determined to ruin him as thoroughly as he had her, she raised up on her knees to sink down on Miles’s hard prick. A slight burn accompanied the stretch as her channel enveloped him.
“Fuck,” Miles groaned. His arms bracketed her waist, clutching her tightly to his chest.
Sheathing his cock, Bella shuddered.
He tugged her shift over her head and tossed it away.