Hardly a Husband (Free Fellows League 3)

"Glad I could be of service," he whispered seconds before he captured her mouth with his own.

r /> Jarrod kissed her again — this time with all the pent-up passion and frustration and longing he'd been holding in check so long. He kissed her until her breasts heaved with exertion, until her bones seemed to turn to jelly, until all she could do was cling to him while she fervently returned his kisses measure for measure.

Shaking with need and reeling from the flood of sensations surrounding him as Sarah matched him stroke for stroke with her tongue, Jarrod pulled his mouth away from hers.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "Nothing's wrong," he answered. "Then why did you stop kissing me?"

"Because I want you." Jarrod leaned his forehead against hers and drew a shaky breath. "Because I want more."

Sarah suddenly realized that while she felt much better after the release of the tension he'd built inside her, Jarrod seemed to feel much worse. "Tell me what to do."

Jarrod gave a shaky laugh. "It isn't something one usually asks of an innocent young lady after their first dance."

"What you just did to me isn't something one usually does to an innocent young lady after their first or second dance," Sarah reminded him.

"Even the third or fourth," Jarrod added in that same shaky laugh.

"Then why don't we skip the third and fourth dances while you teach me everything I should know about giving you the same kind of pleasure you gave me?"

"Oh, Sarah, my sweet," he murmured. "It will take a lot longer than that." Jarrod was beginning to think that it might take him a lifetime to teach her everything he wanted her to know about pleasuring him.

"Start with what you want most." The smile Sarah gave him was beatific. "I've got all night. And you're the only man who's signed my dance card."

"Jesus!" Jarrod swore. "I forgot about the dance. We've been out here entirely too long." He pulled Sarah's bodice back over her breasts, hiding them from view, and groaned as he stood up to help her to her feet.

Sarah looked up at him. "What is it?"

"I can't go back inside like this."

He looked perfectly presentable. Sarah stared at him in the glow of the moonlight. His cravat was a bit askew, but other than that, not a hair was out of place. She wasn't sure she could say the same. "Like what?"

"This." He took her hand and guided it to the front of his trousers.

The hard ridge she'd felt earlier seemed to have grown so large it was pushing against his trouser front. "Oh." She applied a little pressure, then began massaging him in a slow circular motion, before tracing the length of it through the fabric. "Can you walk like this?"

"Barely," Jarrod choked out. "And dancing is out of the question."

"Does it hurt?"

Jarrod leaned down and kissed her on the nose. "It aches like the bloody devil."

Sarah frowned. "Does this happen often?"

"Only when I'm with you." He surprised himself by speaking the truth. He had always prided himself on his control and Jarrod couldn't remember the last time he had been unable to control an erection. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to be able to control this one or the reason for it. "Suffice it to say that I can't make an appearance in the ballroom until this subsides."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Was it possible? Had he died and gone to heaven? Or had the rector's daughter from Helford Green just offered to help him alleviate the ache in the place he needed it most? And the fact that she didn't truly understand what she was offering didn't seem to matter at all.

God, how he wished she could help, but he hadn't quite lost all his manners or his good sense and Jarrod knew that was something he couldn't ask. He closed his eyes instead, and mentally counted to twenty in an effort to erase the images of Sarah doing everything he wanted her to do. Kneeling before him. Or leaning over him while he reclined on the bed. Even taking him in hand and bringing him to satisfaction. Or lying beneath him, her legs tightly wrapped around his waist, as he buried himself inside her.

He'd just counted twenty-four when Jarrod felt Sarah fumbling for the buttons on his trousers. "Sarah, don't… "

Too late.

She released the buttons and stared at the hard ridge straining against his stockinette drawers in the vee of his trousers.

"Mind if I satisfy my curiosity?" she asked politely, in an echo of his earlier words. "Be my guest," he invited.