Page 46 of Earl Crazy
It was wicked, the surge of desire that rushed through her at his struggle; wicked, the surge of heat between her legs as she he writhed and groaned under her seeking hand. She’d never given a man pleasure before, and she’d never imagined it could be so breathlessly exciting. “Is this alright?” She swiped her thumb over the moisture that had gathered at his tip. “May I touch you here?”
“God, yes.” He gasped, his hips jerking.
“Are you…can you…” Could he reach his pleasure like this, with just her touch?
“Yes.” His hips rose, moving in rhythm with her steady strokes. “Don’t stop. Please, Tilly. You’re going to make me—ah.” He cried out, his cock jerking in her hand as his release took him, hot seed shooting from his tip, coating her hand and his stomach. He thrust into her fist—once, and then again—a harsh groan falling from his lips, his powerful body shuddering until the spasms passed, and he fell back, limp.
She gazed down at him as his breathing slowed. He didn’t say a word, but his sleepy dark eyes, the warmth in them as he gazed back up at her seemed to say a thousand words at once.
She reached down, brushing away a lock of his auburn hair that had fallen into his eyes, and he caught her hand, and pressed a kiss to her palm. Her breath caught, and a rush of tears blurred her eyes at the tender gesture, and the softness in his face as he looked up at her.
It was silly to cry.
So she buried her face in the arch between his neck and shoulder to hide her tears, her heart beating in a wild rhythm in her chest.
She didn’t regret what they’d done. How could she?
But this was nothing like their first meeting. It wasn’t an accidental kiss between two strangers. Nor was it an innocent stroll at a picnic, or a dance at a ball, or even a secret matchmaking scheme, as scandalous as that was.
There was no going back fromthis.
In the space of a few delirious hours, everything had changed.
ChapterThirteen
It was difficult to say how much time passed as they lay there entwined in each other’s arms. Perhaps it was an hour or more, but it seemed as if only a few precious moments had passed before Tilly noticed the first glimmers of light in the sky.
It was dark still, but morning was coming.
“I have to go.” She slipped out of Kit’s embrace, every part of her howling in protest at the loss of his heat, the strong, steady beat of his heart against her cheek, the strength of his arms around her, but it was tempting fate, remaining here any longer.
Kit let out a grumble of protest, and before she could rise, she’d been tumbled backwards against a muscular chest, and a bristly jaw was nuzzling her throat. “No. Not yet.”
Oh, if only she could stay! If only the sun would hold off a few moments longer! It was still several hours until Lady Fosberry’s household would begin to awaken, but if Harriett should happen to notice her bed was empty, or if Phee came in search of her, as she sometimes did in the mornings…. no. It was madness to risk it.
“I must, Kit. I’ve been here too long already.” She wriggled loose from his arms, and stumbled to her feet. Her night rail was a crumpled mess, and her hair had come loose from her braid and was tumbled down her back in a riot of tangled curls, but there was no time to search for hairpins. She’d just have to pray no one saw her creeping away from Prestwick Cottage, looking as if she’d been…well, as if she’d been doing precisely what shehadbeen doing with the Earl of Prestwick.
Kit sighed, but he rose and retrieved her cloak from the floor. “Come here.”
She did as he bid, and stood obediently still while he draped the cloak over her shoulders, but she couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye after what she—whatthey—had done.
Dear God, what had ever possessed her to behave like such a wanton? She bit her lip, heat scalding her cheeks. He’d put hismouthon her, between her, er…and she—well, she was no better! She’d touched his…caressedit, until he’d—
“Such a fetching blush, Tilly.” Kit brushed a knuckle across her cheekbone. “Such a pretty pink.” He traced the wash of heat down her neck to the hollow of her throat, his dark eyes gleaming as his gaze followed the path his hand had taken. “How far down does it go?”
All the way.
He let out a soft laugh, and she peeked up to find him gazing down at her, a wicked grin on his lips. But his eyes were aglow with the same sweetness she’d noticed the first time she’d ever looked into them. She’d thought him a drunkard and a scoundrel that night, but even then, she’d admired his eyes, so dark and warm, like melted chocolate.
“It’s chilly.” One by one, he fastened the buttons of her cloak, then tied the ribbon in a bow at her neck. It was a tender gesture, and once again foolish tears stung her eyes. A few kisses and sweet whispers, and she’d turned into a watering pot. Why, she was no better than all the other young ladies who’d gone crazy over the handsome Earl of Prestwick the moment he appeared at the first ball of the season.
“There.” He draped the deep, woolen hood over her head, then plucked up his own coat from the arm of a chair. “Now we can go.”
“We? You can’t come with me! What if someone sees us?” All it would take was one gossiping neighbor glancing out their window at the wrong time— a breath of rumor whispered into a willing ear— and the scandal would spread like a conflagration.
“I’m coming with you, Tilly. I won’t send you out into the dark alone.”
She opened her mouth to remind him she’d come to the cottage alone in the dark, but his jaw had gone tight, and there didn’t seem any point in arguing with him. “Yes, alright, but only as far as Lady Fosberry’s garden gate.”
