Page 34 of Outrageous

Each stroke of his hand and his body’s concomitant response made the part between her thighs—her sex, Mia had unabashedly called it—swell and ache.

Her eyes had been so riveted to his chest and her own body’s response that she’d failed to notice he’d flicked open his fall.

Dear Lord.

Her chest froze as he lifted his hips and nudged the supple buckskin down just far enough to expose—

Steam clouded her vision as she saw his erect male organ. It emerged from the bunched-up linen like some sort of sleek, dangerous sea monster emerging from beneath the waves.

Eva breathed through her mouth, as if she couldn’t get enough air through her nose, as his hand—that beautiful masculine hand she’d been admiring—slid around the thick, ruddy shaft and gave it a firm stroke.

A hiss of pleasure broke from his clenched teeth and his hips thrust up, his expression almost one of pain as he held himself still, arched, and impossibly erect.

The edges of Eva’s vision blackened, reminding her to breathe, and her eyes burned, reminding her to blink.

He made a guttural noise somewhere between a grunt and a sigh and then lowered his hips back to the chair, his hand sweeping back up the silken shaft until he reached the top, which was glistening with moisture. He casually rolled his palm over the fat, bell-shaped crown before stroking back down to his root.

The gesture was the most erotic sight Eva had ever seen. She distantly realized that her thighs were sticky. When she clenched the muscles in her legs, her eyes crossed at the sensations that cascaded outward from her sex. She grabbed her mound over her nightdress and squeezed hard, as if that might stop the unraveling sensation that had begun inside her. But it only made it worse.

So did the way his hand moved over his organ, with confident strokes that were all the more arousing for their businesslike efficiency. Godric was supremely comfortable in his skin and his actions proved it. He took pleasure from his body like a man who knew what he wanted and how he wanted it.

Eva prayed for it to go on forever: the thrusting, the flexing of his muscles that occurred with each stroke, the mottling of his skin, the roughness of his breathing, and especially the fascinating transformation taking place in his breeding organ. His shaft seemed to have become thicker, longer, and the flared crown glistened wetly beneath the flickering light cast by two candles.

He began to grunt with each thrust, louder and louder, his motions jerky and the muscles in his forearms bulging beneath the skin. And then, suddenly, he froze, hips thrust, buttocks tight, his organ—his cock—moving even though Godric’s hand was motionless. The shaft convulsed as he ejaculated, which was what her stepmother had called it: ejaculation. The word was dirty and mysterious, but the actual act was so much more erotic.

His body shuddered and the jerks became less intense, the small geyser erupting more weakly with each wave that rocked his body, until Godric’s hips sank down in the chair and his head began to lift.

Eva squeaked and launched herself across the room, tripping on the hem of her too long nightgown and landing headfirst in the musty-smelling bedding. She flipped onto her side, her face away from the door, and focused every particle of her being on breathing in and out, slowly, and evenly.

There were slight sounds of movement from the other room and then a shadow appeared in the shaft of pale light that shone against the wall in front of her: a man-shaped shadow. He seemed to stay there for a hundred years, but it was probably only a few seconds. Only when he moved away did she realize she’d been holding her breath and expelled it slowly from between pursed lips.

She shivered at the thought of what he would have done if he’d opened his eyes and caught her staring and panting. If she lived to be one hundred years old, she’d never forget it.

It had been beyond foolish!

It had, there was no denying that. But Eva couldn’t be sorry for what she’d seen.

Not even if it meant she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep tonight.

Not even if facing him tomorrow was going to be impossible.

Chapter 7

“You’re very quiet this morning, my lady. Did you get enough rest last night?”

Lord Visel’s voice was so low that Eva almost didn’t hear him over the rumble of the carriage wheels; she decided to ignore him.

“Sorry to wake you so early,” he said when she didn’t respond, not sounding sorry at all.

Eva forced herself to look up at the sound of his richly amused voice, inch by inch, until she met his eyes.

He grinned at her and in that instant she knew that he knew she’d watched him last night; she knew it. How could he look at her so proudly? Wasn’t he ashamed at being caught at such a prurient act?

He chuckled at whatever he saw on her face.

Clearly not.

Oh, he was a wicked, wicked man.