Page 52 of More or Less a Countess
Tenderness.
An experiment, a chapter in her book—how foolish it seemed now, how absurd, to imagine arousal was something clinical she could test, something she could manipulate on a whim.
And Lord Dare…
Did she truly believe she could control a man like him? The moment her lips touched his she was lost to him, drowning in desire, and it wasn’t just because he was handsome, or because he knew how to touch a woman in a way that made her forget everything but his mouth, his hands, the desperate rasp of his breath in her ears.
No, it was so much more than that. Honora had called him a rake, a debaucher, and after what she’d witnessed in the library between him and Lady Uplands, Violet had thought so too, but since then…
He was so much more than he appeared to be, and why should that be so surprising? A handsome face, a scarlet waistcoat…such things were no more the whole of him than her sketchbook and pencils were the whole of her.
She should have known—should have seen it at once yesterday when he’d stood between her and the Thames River, waiting patiently while she finished her sketch.
His boots had gotten soaked.
A soft laugh escaped Violet as she thought of the consternation on his face when he’d realized they were very likely ruined.
Lord Dare opened his eyes. They stared at each other, neither of them saying a word, but something changed between them as his gray eyes caught and held her blue ones. The mood shifted, grew heavier, weighted down with something Violet couldn’t define. An emotion between them they hadn’t given voice to before now, some sense of expectation.
Unanswered questions.
Lies.
She had to tell him the truth, but once she did he’d never wish to see her again, and before that happened, she had to show him how much it meant to her to know there was a gentleman who understood exactly who she was, and desired her in spite of it.
Or maybe, just maybe…because of it.
Violet reached for him and trailed her fingertips over his cheekbones. She watched his eyes as she gently traced his eyebrows, his lips, and his jaw, and her breath caught at the flicker of heat in his gaze as she dragged her fingertips down his neck.
He let out a low moan, and his throat moved in a convulsive swallow. “It feels so good when you touch me, sweet.”
Violet didn’t answer, but she held his gaze as she settled her hands on his wide shoulders and began to arch against his lap, the movement of her hips slow and sinuous.
“No. Don’t.”
He gripped her hips to still her, but Violet grasped his wrists and dragged his hands away. “Shhhh. I want to. Not as an experiment, or for a sketch, or for the bluestockings.” A faint smile drifted over her lips. “For you. Just you.”
His thighs had gone tense underneath her, but now he looked into her eyes, and whatever he saw there made his hands go limp around her waist. He watched her as if mesmerized, his breath quickening and deepening to harsh gasps as her hips continued their insistent rhythm.
His mouth opened, and low, broken pleas fell from his lips. “Don’t stop…faster, sweetheart…yes, now take me harder…yes…you’re going to make me come…”
Violet wanted to shout in triumph when she saw he’d come too far in his passion to stop, and he gave in to her completely. A desperate moan tore from his chest as he steadied her against him, his hips taking up her rhythm until he was thrusting helplessly against her.
“Oh, God, I’m going to…you’re making me—”
His words trailed off into a long groan as he jerked hard against her once, then again, and then his entire body went rigid, and he pulled her to him to bury his face between her neck and shoulder.
As he panted against her, Violet slid her fingers into his hair and played with the dark strands until he slowly regained his breath, his arms wrapped tightly around her.
When he’d calmed at last, he turned his head on her shoulder, pressed his mouth to her ear and began to speak, to tell her how much he wanted her, how she’d given him so much pleasure, and his voice, dear God, his voice, so sweet, a bit breathless still and murmuring to her, coaxing her now, a whisper in her ear, a low rasp Violet knew she’d hear in her dreams.
“I want to touch you now, and give you pleasure.” He slid a hand under her skirts and wrapped his warm fingers around her thigh. “Will you let me do that for you? Will you let me touch you, Hyacinth?”
Violet froze in shock, her hands stilling in his hair, and the cocoon of warmth that had wrapped itself around her vanished with that one word, like mists giving way to a sudden rain.
Hyacinth.
A reminder, and one she badly needed, but no less painful for it.
