He extended his hand, and she studied it. As if in a trance, she rested her hand in his and let him pull her to his side. He settled her next to him on the velvet bench, and his body heat warmed her as she pressed against his side. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, leaned in and brushed his face next to hers.
She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of his bristly cheek nuzzling against hers. He didn’t push, as if he believed she might scare easily. He trailed his lips down her cheek, along her jaw, dotted up her chin until their mouths met and clung. She opened for him, and his tongue filled her mouth, making her groan.
He touched her, his hand at her waist, then wandering upward. Slowly his hand glided over her stomach, up her ribs until he cupped her breast, splayed his fingers and kneaded her flesh. She arched into his touch, whimpering, and with his other hand, he caressed her face, trailing his fingers down the length of her neck.
She was lost. Lost in the way he touched her, his deep, hot kisses, the sound of his rasping breath. The carriage swayed hard, jostling her against him, and he acted quickly. Grabbing her about the waist, he hauled her over to straddle him with her knees on either side of his hips. Her skirts spread about the both of them, covering their lower bodies.
Placing her hands on his broad shoulders, she stared down at him, surprised at his bold move. She’d never done anything like this before. Her husband had only made love to her in a bed while lying on top of her. This…this was shocking. Exciting.
Thrilling.
His hands still around her waist, Garrett brought her down so that their lower bodies brushed against each other. Her drawers were a meager barrier, the fabric thin and open between her legs, and she felt him, felt the unmistakable hard length of him tenting his trousers, and she groaned.
“Did you ever ride your late husband, my lady?” He tilted his head back, his eyes sparkling as he waited for her response. He tugged her close, and she was aghast at his blatant question.
Even more aghast at the way she rubbed against him like a cat in heat.
She shook her head. “No.”
He smiled, and she realized he didn’t do that very often. Especially a smile such as this. He looked particularly boyish.
Though there was nothing boyish about this man. His hard thighs and the brush of his erection more than proved that.
“Do you want to ride me?” His voice was a gravelly whisper.
“Here?” She glanced about the carriage, thinking of the driver just outside, the city all around them.
“Here.” He trailed his fingers across the square neck of her gown, touching the bare flesh that rose above it, and she released a stuttering breath. “Are you scandalized?”
“We…we cannot do such a thing like that here.” He curled his fingers beneath the fabric of her bodice and tugged down both her gown and corset. Her breasts tumbled free from their confines, and she gasped.
Sitting straighter, he slid a hand up her back and rained kisses across her exposed flesh. His hot, damp mouth touched her everywhere except the place where she wanted him most, and it seemed he did it on purpose. Teasing her, tormenting her until she gripped his silky, soft hair and tried to direct him.
“Bossy,” he murmured before drawing a hard nipple into his mouth. He sucked it deep, swirling his tongue around the turgid flesh, and she cried out when he clamped down and bit it none too gently. “It will take the edge off if we fuck now.”
She jerked away from him and met his gaze at the first sound of the word. “What do you mean?”
“Have I offended you? Have you never heard the word before? You’re such an innocent for a married woman.” He cupped the back of her head and brought her down so their mouths met in an ardent kiss. “Fuck is a rather crude way of describing what we’re about to do. Fucking you has been my greatest wish for longer than I care to admit.”
A shiver moved through her at his succinct explanation. She’d thought herself a good and proper woman, when in truth she was a wanton, excited by his wicked language, excited even more by the prospect of his fucking her in the carriage. She wanted it; she wanted him.
He held her gaze as he reached beneath her skirts and settled his hot hand upon her thigh. Slowly he slid his hand up, higher and higher, until he stroked his fingers across the crease where her thigh met her hip. He drew one finger along that sensitive, rarely touched spot, making her shiver, and the muscles in her legs tensed.
“Are you wet, Jul
ia?” The question, so casually asked, shocked her yet again, and she told herself she shouldn’t be surprised. He kept on and on. Pushing her, thrilling her, and she wondered how many women he had been with over the years. How many lovers had he taken to gain so much carnal knowledge? He knew exactly how to excite a woman and drive her to the brink of madness with only a few choice words and soft touches—a skill she couldn’t help but admire.
And want to experience more of.
“Touch me and find out,” she answered boldly.
He chuckled as his hand drifted up between the open slit of her thin drawers, and his fingers tangled in the curling hair just above her mound. Another tease, he toyed with her there for long, agonizing seconds until her hips thrust forward and she whimpered. He drew a single finger along the seam of her sex, fleeting. She clutched his broad shoulders and swallowed. Gently he slipped his finger inside, sliding through the slick wetness that flooded her secret folds, and she closed her eyes. Overwhelmed by her reaction to him.
“Very wet.” He brushed his finger against the knot of sensitive nerves at the top of her slit. “All for me?”
She clutched his shoulders harder and drove her hips against his touch. He pushed his finger inside her passage, surging deep, and she groaned as he filled her. “Yes,” she whispered when he started to pump his finger.
“Very responsive too. Do you like how I touch you?” A second finger joined the first, and he went deeper, brushing his thumb against the tiny knot. Bolts of pleasure surged through her, running rampant in her blood, tingling across her skin. “Does it feel good?”