He hadn’t yet come to a conclusion when he saw her walking toward the greenhouse. He’d known he should let her be, should stay clear of her because where she was concerned, he seemed to have no resistance whatsoever.
A point succinctly proven when her mouth latched onto his and instead of wisely breaking away from the kiss, he committed to it with his entire being. Dear Lord, her father had lost the ability to write a letter and because he was so precious to her, she’d created a machine for him. A machine for which she wouldn’t take credit but unselfishly claimed as another’s dream.
He couldn’t imagine having that much love for a father and almost envied her for it. For being raised by someone who’d instilled that much devotion into her. He rather wanted to erase any memories of his own father.
With her in his arms, they did fade away. No longer had any importance, no longer guided him.
All that mattered was her and this insatiable hunger that made him yearn to possess her and be possessed by her—fully and completely.
He trailed his lips over her bared shoulders. “So lovely,” he murmured.
“You make me feel so.”
An entire cadre of men over the years should have made her feel so, and yet he was somewhat gratified that in the end the task had fallen to him. That when she left this country, she would be taking memoriesof their time together with her. Memories of kisses, touches, and slow licks.
He was the first to have ever lifted her skirts. The gentlemanly, compassionate side of him didn’t want him to be the last. He didn’t wish for her to live alone or in solitude.
Normally he found nothing wrong with solitude. Had sought it out himself.
Perhaps that was part of the reason that he’d crossed the gardens to join her here. Because she’d appeared to be a lonely figure entering the greenhouse. Having entranced a ballroom full of people, many who were most likely here out of curiosity regarding the Americans rather than an interest in their machinery or a desire to invest, she should have been soaking up the compliments.
Instead, she’d been here, alone. Possibly she’d been here waiting for him. Did she know he’d find her, he’d always find her?
Because at that moment, he felt as though they were tethered, that no matter how often they parted, they would always come back together.
But it was no longer enough to simply kiss, touch, and taste.
He should resist. He knew that. He’d known it as he glanced around to make sure no one was about to witness his journey. As he clandestinely made his way here—his smooth unhurried movements not reflecting the wild, rapid pounding of his heart.
The woman occupied his thoughts as no other woman ever had. The jealousy that ratcheted through him when she danced with another man was also novel. Even as he knew she wasn’t looking for a truepartner, just someone to invest, to help her fulfill her father’s dream. He wondered what her dream might be, if she’d ever given any thought to it.
He knew he was on the cusp of emulating his father’s unacceptable antics, and yet it seemed that something more than lust was driving him. Certainly he craved the sounds of her cries, his name on a tortured gasp of air, the soft sigh that came after her body had tumbled from the heavens, and the contented smile that warmed her eyes as she looked at him and made him feel as though he had conquered the world.
When he suspected it was she conquering him.
This strong, bold, inventive woman who took things apart, who was dismantling the walls that he’d so carefully erected over the years. To prevent him from being caught in a compromising situation. To ensure the gossips never whispered, “He’s just as odious as his father.”
In all his years, he’d shown remarkable restraint and held himself to the highest standard. Suddenly he was damned tired of doing so, unable to bear the thought of her leaving England’s shores, being so far away that he could never have her.
Not when she was at this very moment squirming with abandon against his aching cock.
His fingers skimmed along the inside of her thigh, down, up, down, up, always going a little higher until finally they slipped inside her drawers and he cupped her intimately. She made a keening sound that could have been a beg, a pleading.Don’t stop. Don’t stop.
One of his fingers parted the folds and slid the length of her.
“You’re so wet, so ready for my cock. I’m desperate to be buried inside you. I want to feel the velvet closing around me, to feel you pulsing around me when ecstasy takes over.”
She nipped his earlobe and ran her tongue around the swirls of his ear before whispering with a need that made her voice hoarse, her breath shallow, “I want it all, Johnny. I want all of you. I want to know what it is to truly experience everything a man has to offer. I want to actually fuck.”
“Christ, Nora.” That one scandalous word coming from her was a powerful aphrodisiac. He lost all sense of self. All sense of right and wrong. Or perhaps it was simply that what she asked for seemed so completely right, as though they’d been hurtling toward this moment from the first.
He stepped away from her and swiped his arm across a nearby table, sending an array of assorted orchids crashing to the floor. He’d send funds to replace them on the morrow. Closing his hands on her waist, he lifted her onto the table and took possession of that mouth that somehow managed to own him.
She unbuttoned his trousers, setting him free. Her fingers wrapped around him. “Please,” she begged, this woman who should never have to beg for anything.
He eased her back onto the table. Together they were raising her skirts and petticoats, bunching the entire mess at her waist. He tried to draw on his years of restraint, fought to back away, strove to be the responsible man he’d always been—
But she was a temptation such as he’d never known. Impossible to resist.
