“So if we’re going to harvest some of that hay…” He reached for her again, fingers flexing about her waist before he slowly turned her, then stepped close, his chest to her back, his thighs to her bottom. Sliding his hands around her waist, he locked her to him; bending his head, he nuzzled the hollow behind one ear. “Then we’d better do it now…don’t you think?”
Lids falling, Caro leaned back into him, once again glorying in being wrapped in his strength. His breath wafted the fine curls about her ear; she fought to suppress a delicious shiver. Head back, resting against his shoulder, well aware they were embarking on some sensual game, she murmured, “I think…we should take advantage of every opportunity as it offers…don’t you think?”
His deep chuckle dripped promise. “Absolutely.” His lips traced the side of her throat, then he murmured, “Should we adopt that as our policy?”
His hands slid slowly upward until they cupped, then closed about her breasts; it was seriously difficult to draw breath enough to reply, “That seems an…appropriate notion.”
Her hands, loosely clasped about the backs of his, had followed them upward; eyes closing, she savored the flexing muscles as he slowly, subtly kneaded, then she sighed. “So…” Her words were a breathless whisper. “What should I do next?”
His answer came in a dark, deep murmur. “For the moment, all you need to do is feel.”
An all-too-easy assignment; her senses were already mesmerized, caught by the skillful play of his fingers. They possessed, then teased, found her nipples and squeezed…until she gasped.
Releasing her breasts, his hands roamed, tracing the curves and indentations of waist and hips, the sleek upper faces of her thighs, the rounded globes of her bottom.
“Wait.”
She blinked, felt him steady her on her feet. Then he stepped away, to the side; turning her head, she watched him pick up the second chair, and carry it back to where she swayed.
He set it down beside them, in the same movement regathered her into his arms, as before with her back to his chest, her bottom riding against his loins. Splayed, his hands were suddenly everywhere, hot and hard, sending heat pulsing through her. Bending his head, he pressed a kiss to her throat, over the point where her pulse galloped, then slowly traced his lips up the long taut curve; in the end, she turned enough to meet his hungry lips with hers, equally avid, equally greedy.
For long moments, the kiss and all it encompassed held them, then he lifted his head, waited for her lids to rise, looked into her eyes. “Your sandals—take them off.”
So that was the purpose of the chair. She looked at it, shifted her weight, and raised one foot shod in a pretty Grecian sandal to the seat. The winding ties of the sandal wrapped around her ankle and reached halfway up her calf; she had to bend over to unpick the knot.
The movement pressed her scantily clad bottom more firmly against him—an inadvertent, yet hardly unintended invitation—one he was waiting to take advantage of. Her lips lifted as his large hand curved about her bottom, as his fingers stroked, evocatively caressed; she realized how hot her skin already was, how flushed, how tight with anticipation her flickering nerves had become.
Rightly so, it seemed; as she wrestled the leather laces undone, his fingers reached further, found her softness, boldly delved. Her lungs locked
; bent over her raised leg, she felt increasingly giddy as he probed, as he made free with all, courtesy of the position, she offered.
She had to battle to draw in a huge breath, then straighten, one sandal free, dangling from her fingers. His fingers remained pressing into her softness, his hand intimately wedged between her thighs. She dropped the sandal, didn’t wait for instructions but dragged in another breath, raised her other foot to the chair, and started—as fast as she could—to untie her other sandal.
He shifted behind her. His fingers reached deeper, probing more evocatively; with his other hand, he lifted the back of her chemise, exposing her bottom and back—then he bent and laid a long line of hot, open-mouthed kisses down her spine.
Lower and lower. She realized she’d stopped breathing—couldn’t do more than take a shallow, far too shallow breath. His lips reached the base of her spine; he paused. His fingers still delved, caressing her heated slickness yet not as deeply while his other hand drifted from her, then she felt him move, press closer. His hand returned, wrapping about her hip, anchoring her—as the broad head of his erection, hot and hard, replaced his fingers between her thighs, shallowly penetrating her slick sheath.
She gasped, wanted more, much more of him, but wasn’t sure which way to move.
He arched over her once more, again tracing her spine with his lips, keeping her bent over, open to his play.
And play it was; he pressed into her no more than an inch, if that, tantalizing her senses, making them writhe as he moved in and out. She closed her eyes, heard the soft exhalations that issued from her lips, savoring the sensations, the building urgency—the sheer need rising through her.
On the sensitive skin of her back, she felt his lips curve…realized she’d completely forgotten about her sandal. Summoning wit enough to complete the task was an effort. Opening her eyes, she pulled at the knotted lacings, eventually tugged them free.
His chuckle as she paused, not sure whether she wished to move, sent anticipation slithering through her.
His anchoring hand left her; he withdrew from her and straightened, allowing her to do the same.
The instant she dropped her sandal, he murmured, “Take off your chemise.”
His fingertips grazed her hips, telling her she was to remain as she was, facing away from him. Excruciatingly aware of him just behind her, still clothed in shirt, cravat, breeches, and boots.
She slanted a glance back; she couldn’t see his face, yet the sight of his broad shoulder, his muscled arm, confirmation of his strength so close, poised to possess her, sent a shiver of needy greed rushing through her.
The easiest way…facing forward, she reached for the hem of her chemise, and slowly, taking the time to gracefully untangle her arms and free her frizzy hair, drew it off over her head.
He plucked it from her fingers, tossed it she didn’t know where. “Now…”