Page 58 of The Earl and the Reluctant Lady
Chapter Eighteen
Later that evening, Agnes took a shuddering breath and opened the door. The dressing gown rubbed against her naked skin, making her aware of every part of her body. Fletcher sat in a chair by the window, his attention focused on a book in his hands. He wore no shirt, only his trousers and his feet were bare. This was right. He was right.
“Fletcher,” she said his name softly, softer than she’d intended. She cleared her throat and called him again.
He looked up, set his book aside, and came to his feet. “Agnes, what are you doing?”
She mentally counted to three, then she pulled the tie on her dressing gown and let it slide off her shoulders to pool at her feet.
“I want to know what it feels like to lose control. Just once.” She walked toward him. “You told me I couldn’t ignore my feelings forever. With you, I can let myself go.”
He swallowed visibly. His eyes traveled the length of her, as the warm hazel depths darkened. “I’m not enough of a gentleman to say no to you, Bluebell.”
“I’m counting on that.” She closed the distance between them. Feeling emboldened, she placed a hand on his chest. “Help me lose control, Fletcher. Help me have one night where I only feel. I’m so damned tired of always doing the right thing. I’m tired of pretending to be something I’m not.”
His eyes darkened, but still he made no move to touch her. But he seemed to let his gaze drink her in. “Damnation, you’re perfect.”
“Touch me, Fletcher.”
He slid his hands to her waist, his fingers splayed down, nearly reaching her bottom.
“I know there are ways to prevent me from getting with child.”
He nodded.
She leaned up on her tiptoes, pressing her body to his and then kissed him. “I know marriage isn’t in my future, so I have no expectations from you. Please, just give me this one night.”
He cupped her cheek, then his thumb slid across her bottom lip.
…
He kissed her back, sweeping his tongue into her mouth. Her lush body pressed against his was heaven. He’d never been this hard, this overcome with desire. He gripped her bottom and lifted her so that she wrapped her legs around him. Still they kissed; her tongue meeting every swipe of his.
He growled as he carried her over to the bed.
“Agnes,” he breathed. “I’ve wanted you for so damn long.”
She leaned back and met his gaze. “How long?”
“Since that very first dance. Before that. Since I first laid eyes on you.” He dropped her gently on the bed and she fell back. Her rounded breasts, peaked with hard pink tips, beckoned him. He lay down beside her and ran a finger lightly along the outer curve of the globes, tracing them.
Her mouth fell open and she closed her eyes. “I’ve wanted you, too,” she whispered.
“I’ll give you tonight, all the pleasure you want. You need only let go.” Then he kissed her. “Just don’t be so loud that people come running to save you.” He leaned forward and took her nipple in his mouth, sucking hard, and she arched into him.
“You’re so responsive, Agnes.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“It’s a perfect thing.” He moved his mouth back to her breast and teased her, alternating his attention from one to the other. Then he trailed hot kisses down her stomach, dipping his tongue into her navel. She made sweet and sexy noises as he moved down her body. He was so hard, he wondered if he’d poke a hold straight through the mattress.
“I’m going to taste you, Bluebell.” But he didn’t give her time to register his words before he’d lowered his mouth to her center.
She bucked against him, trying to pull her legs together.
“Shhhh, love. Trust me.”
She met his gaze and her breasts moved with each of her breaths. Then she nodded and laid her head back.
