“Take off those damned breeches.”
Kit’s embers burst into flame. She stared at Jack, shocked and tantalized by his suggestion.
Jack clenched every muscle in an effort to remain prone on the bed. Kit’s eyes glowed violet, purple sparks of passion striking from their depths. He wasn’t the least surprised to see her fingers move to the buttons which secured the drab breeches. He watched the slim digits work the buttons free. Then, slowly, she peeled back the flap, revealing an expanse of creamy stomach with a riot of red curls at its base.
Kit moved in a dream, sundered from reality. She saw the tension in Jack’s frame increase and reveled in her power. Moving with deliberate slowness, she inched the garment off her hips, balancing on one foot to draw off her boot. When the second boot was off, she lifted first one leg then the other free of her breeches. She sent them to join her coat, then turned to pose, weight on one leg, the other knee bent inward, facing Jack.
He hadn’t moved, but she could feel the effort it was costing him to remain where he was.
“Lift your shirt and free your breasts.” Rigid with need, Jack forced the command from between clenched teeth. His eyes were glued to the rich bounty thus far revealed; his mouth was dry with anticipation of the revelations to come.
Wondering why he hadn’t told her to take her shirt off, Kit obeyed the command literally, assuming there was some pertinent point she’d yet to comprehend behind it. She thought for a moment, then artfully rolled the front of her shirt up until she could hold the folds between her teeth. A sudden shift of the body in the bed told her the impulse was worth following. To her relief, the knot gave easily. She unwound the band. Slowly. The long strip went about her five times. She released her shirt just before the band dropped. Her breasts sprang free, proudly erect, semiobscured behind fine linen.
Jack swallowed a groan. His fingers, locked behind his head, clenched, biting into the backs of his hands. He couldn’t imagine where she’d learned her tricks; the idea that they were instinctive started to unravel his much tried control. To gain a little time, and strength, he examined the figure before him critically. Light streamed through the window on the other side of the cottage. Kit stood directly between the bed and the window; he had an unimpeded view of her silhouette. Lingeringly, he examined every curve, knowing his gaze was heating her. The thought of what that meant forced him to speak. “Come and kneel on the bed beside me.”
Without haste, Kit obeyed, climbing onto the horsehair mattress to sit on her knees by his side. In that position, her shirt covered her legs, giving her a modicum of relief from Jack’s ardent gaze. He wasn’t wearing a coat. His shirt was not of the same fine quality as hers; the muscles of his chest and arms showed as rounded ridges beneath its surface. Her gaze skimmed his chest, then dropped to where his shirt disappeared into the waistband of his breeches. She couldn’t miss the bulge just below.
Jack saw the direction of her gaze. He kept his hands locked safely behind his head and fought to control his breathing. “Undress me.”
Kit’s eyes flew to his, startled conjecture in their purpled depths. Her lips parted but no protest came. Instead, she seemed to consider the idea; Jack wondered what form of slow torture she was planning.
Beneath her stunned surprise, Kit was aware of growing excitement. Never having attempted such an undertaking before, she took a minute to work out her approach.
Jack held his breath when she shifted, pressing her hands, palms flat, against his chest. She swung over him, straddling him.
Boldly, Kit settled her bottom on his thighs. She heard his indrawn breath and felt the sudden leaping of the rigid rod half-trapped beneath her. She shuffled forward, pressing herself against him, protected from instant retribution by the material of his breeches. She glanced up; Jack’s eyes were tight shut. A muscle flickered along his clenched jaw. With a smile of feminine triumph, Kit set to work, pulling his shirt from his breeches, tugging his arms from behind his head, eventually tugging him into a half-sit to drag the shirt off over his head.
Freed of his shirt, Jack fell back on the pillows, in pain, but eager to see how she’d manage the rest.
Flinging the shirt aside, Kit turned her attention to his waistband. It was the work of a moment to wriggle the buttons free. She laid the flap open and gazed down in awe at the prize revealed. Thick as her wrist, engorged and empurpled, Jack’s staff pulsed against the hair curling over the solid wall of his abdomen. Without thinking, Kit’s fingers moved to touch it, to caress it.
Jack groaned, unable to keep the sound back. He shut his eyes, not wanting to see what she might do next. The soft caress of her lips sent him rigid; the wet sweep of her tongue, inexpert but guided by unerring instinct, broke his control. It was impossible to lie still in the face of such provocation. But he managed to keep his hands from tangling in her curls and guiding her lips to where his throbbing flesh most wanted to feel them. Instead, he forced his hands to his hips, easing his breeches down. With his help, she managed the task efficiently, sliding down the bed to pull off his boots and free his legs.
Kit slipped from the bed, Jack’s breeches in her fingers, and turned to survey her handiwork. Naked, displayed for her delectation, Jack was nothing short of magnificent. Not for the life of her could she keep the smile from her face.
“Come back here.”
Kit’s eyes flew to Jack’s. What she saw in the silvered depths sent a thrill of sheer desire streaking through her. With unfeigned eagerness, she resumed her position at his side, gently simmering, intrigued to discover what next he had in mind.
Jack’s mind wasn’t functioning with its customary clarity. It was overheated. He watched Kit climb back on the bed, her bright eyes drifting down his torso. She knelt on her shirt and it drew taut, outlining the tight crescents of her nipples before she pulled it free. It would be easy enough to roll her beneath him and sheath himself in her heat, but in the past seventy-two hours, his imagination had been working overtime; he’d an ambition to turn some of his dreams to reality. But did he have sufficient willpower to do it?
“Ride me.”
The command jerked Kit from her rapt contemplation. Ride him?
Jack read her question in her startled eyes, deep-hued violet and darkening rapidly. Despite the effort it cost him, he smiled. “When I mount you, I do all the hard work. This time, it’s your turn.”
Kit simply stared, trying to make sense of his words. Then she glanced down to where his member angled upward from its curly nest.
“Here. I’ll show you.” Jack caught her hands and drew her over him. “Straddle me like before.”
Kit did, and nearly shot from the bed when she felt his staff leap under her. She froze, her weight steady against him, her thighs spread, her knees on either side of his hips. Breathless, she waited, stunned by the sense of vulnerability that washed over her.
Rigid with effort, Jack forced every muscle in his body to absolute obedience. A single upward thrust would sink his staff into her, hard against the source of the heat pouring over him from between her widespread thighs. But aside from the fact that he knew he might hurt her by such an aggressive entry in this position, she’d tensed and was probably dry.
He drew a ragged breath and avoided looking at the juncture of her thighs, where the head of his manhood nestled amidst her flaming curls. He eased his convulsive grip on her hands and raised them, placing them on the pillow, one above each of his shoulders. Another deep breath allowed him to run his hands back along her arms to curve about her shoulders. “Lean forward and kiss me.”