In the Widow's Bed

The countess had a wicked tongue and she used it to inflame him. She invaded his mouth to match the lazy pace of his thrusts and he closed his eyes at the powerful need that rose up in him. He wanted to thrust hard, take control of this woman, and possess her in every way possible.

He shifted until his feet hit the floor and looked down on her. Wide, pale green eyes regarded him, a lingering smile tugged at her lips. He reached for her hips and dragged her to the end of the bed. Phoebe glanced down.

He took himself in hand, rubbing his wet cockhead across her nub. Phoebe panted hard from the sensation and he reinserted himself in a slow thrust. Her spine arched as he reached her limit and he grasped her breast tight.

With one hand on her hip, one squeezing her breast, he set up a furious pace, thrusting hard into her body. Phoebe’s hand fluttered over her bunched up skirts and then slipped to her nub. She touched herself while their gaze held, pushing his desire high at the erotic sight. Jonathan rolled her nipple between his thumb and fingers, pinching and drawing on the peak.

Phoebe’s fingers moved frantically. She curled up to watch him pound into her. Her curiosity was his undoing. Jonathan’s release tightened his balls, unstoppable desire swept over him as he came so hard he shouted out. While his body shuddered, his lover cried out her release too, and then she collapsed to the soft bedding, as sated as he. Jonathan followed, keeping his cock buried deep but rolling until Phoebe lay boneless over his chest.

He held her tight, dragged in the desire-scented air around them, and wished they didn’t ever have to leave this room. Phoebe seemed content to lie with him. He let his hands travel over her gown covered back and wished he’d taken the time to undress her. Maybe next time—tonight if he was a very lucky man—he might have her bare between his sheets.

But this time there would be no darkness to hide behind. He wanted to see where he kissed, where he touched, and to watch her face every time she reached for bliss.

“Dinner will be announced soon. I have to go.” Phoebe squirmed, expelled him from her body, and slid off his chest without meeting his gaze. But he captured her hand to hold her to the bed.

“Wait.” Jonathan surged up and captured her lips in a possessive kiss. He couldn’t let her get away with that look of embarrassment on her face. Their lust was natural, addictive, and he wanted her to accept it now before anyone or anything else intruded.

Phoebe crawled into his lap, deepening their kiss until they were both panting.

When they parted, Jonathan held her snug in his arms and simply looked at her. She was beautiful, breathtaking, and all his, if he got his way.

After a little while, Phoebe relaxed and her lips curled into an exasperated smile. “Why in heavens name would you wish to make love to me?”

That was an easy question to answer. “Because.” He grabbed her hand and wedged it between them. Her fingers wrapped around his growing length, and then to his delight—tightened. “You’ve had an enlarging affect on me for some time. I’d rather explore what might be between us than ignore it another day.”

CHAPTER FIVE

“There shouldn’t be anything between us. Are you mad?” Phoebe escaped Selwood’s hands before he could distract her again with kisses.

The younger man followed, striding proudly across the room in absolutely nothing at all. “Not in the least.”

The earl ran his hand through his dark hair and the effect on her senses as his muscles flexed was frightening. She wanted nothing more than to curl up against that broad chest and seek the pleasure he so readily gave. Phoebe pressed the heel of her hand to her brow to expel the image of his body. “This is insane. I shouldn’t share your bed. This cannot happen again.”

He shrugged. “You’re a grown woman. You’re not cuckolding a husband. Who’s to say aught about the matter?”

“Warminster,” she reminded him. Really did the man have no sense? The last man to cross her stepson had found himself impressed on one of the king’s ships and bound for the colonies.

Selwood set his feet wide, hands resting on his hips. “Warminster can bluster all he likes, but he won’t stand in my way. Besides, he owes me.”

“Owes you?” Phoebe heard her voice rise to shrillness but couldn’t control it. “Am I some sort of reward then?”

Selwood’s dark gaze pierced her. “Don’t be ridiculous, woman. That’s not what I meant at all.”

Phoebe shook her head. “This is impossible. I’ll not be responsible for ending your friendship.”

Selwood approached and despite her good intentions, she allowed him to draw her tight against his chest. His skin was warm against her cheek and she breathed in the heady scent of him. Without meaning to, Phoebe curled her arms about his bare waist and clutched him tight. His erection, already firm again, prodded her belly.

“Warminster will become used to the idea in due time,” he murmured, skimming his hands down her spine. “He’s not completely unreasonable.”

“Do you have any idea of how many weapons he has in this house?” Phoebe pressed her lips to Selwood’s chest, imagining the horror of that number.

“I imagine as many as I.” Selwood pressed a kiss to her hair. “Have some faith in my powers of persuasion.”

“Oh, I’m well acquainted with your powers.” Phoebe pushed out of his arms. “That’s what’s gotten me in trouble in the first place.”

Selwood smiled but said nothing more.

“I have to go.” But her hands wanted nothing more than to stay and explore all that divine muscle.