“That, and I thought you might work your way up to the tops of my stockings while we talk.”
For the first time since devouring her mouth in the library, he smiled. “You’re not wearing stockings.”
“That’s merely incidental.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want Ashby to think he has an advantage.”
They stared at each other as their breathing quickened. Lucius saw his desire reflected in those vibrant green gems, saw hope there, too.
“You spoke of wandering the desert,” she said, and the minx reached for the dirty hem of her gown and bunched her skirts to her knees. “Perhaps I might quench your thirst. Perhaps you’d like to drink.”
Bloody hell!
If he woke to find this was a damn dream, he’d murder someone.
He studied her bare legs, pale and smooth like alabaster, before trailing his fingers slowly from her ankle to her knee. “Convince me this is what you want.”
“Can you not hear my need for you in my voice?”
“Convince me, Sybil.”
Her light laugh lasted for a few seconds before the hazy veil of desire altered her expression. She placed both palms on his chest, leaned forward and claimed his mouth.
Twice she pressed her lips to his. Two sweet kisses, like the nervous dips of a toe in the lake. He let her test the water before opening his mouth and urging her to jump in. He heard the rush of excitement in her throaty gasp, in her pretty hum, felt it in the way she caressed his chest, in the way she struggled to sit still in his lap.
Tempering the urge to rush, he drew back, nipped at the corner of her mouth, slid his tongue along the seam of her lips. His hand slipped to her thigh, and he gripped the soft flesh, desperate to feel it cushioning his hip as he plunged into her wetness.
“Once my hand passes the top of your imagined stocking,” he whispered against her mouth, “I fear I’ll not stop there.”
She placed her hand on his and edged it a little higher. “Don’t stop there.”
He swallowed past the surge of euphoria, past the painful ache of his cock pushing against his breeches. “You wish me to touch you intimately?”
She gave a little shrug and a coy smile.
“Do you want me to pleasure you, Sybil?” Lust had taken command of his voice. “Do you want to feel my fingers moving inside you when you find your release?”
Her eyes widened. “I want you, Lucius.” She edged his hand past the point where her stocking might end. “I want you to ease this deep ache, however that may be.”
God, his tongue was as thick and as heavy as his cock.
“Once we pass this point, neither of us will be thinking clearly. We won’t want to stop.” He needed her to understand. “It’s not too late to say no.”
She sucked on her bottom lip. “May I try something? Something that has my curiosity champing at the bit?”
“You may do what you please with me, Miss Atwood.”
She pinned him to the chaise with her sinful smile and playful gaze, guided his hand to the intimate place betwe
en her thighs where it was so damn hot and wet.
Fuck!
His head fell back in time with hers.
A moan left her lips, and he moaned, too.
“It’s as I thought,” she breathed, her eyelids fluttering. “Please, please continue.”