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“Relax,” he whispered against her lips, trying to move. “You are so damn tight, Olivia.”
She pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. “Am I supposed to be this…this…tight?”
“Oh yes,” he groaned. “Hold on to me and do not let go.”
“Never,” she assured him with a soft sigh.
The promise had his mouth drying, then she shivered, her tightness rippling over him and crumbling his control. He withdrew and surged back in, deeply but with restraint. Her flesh became even more pliant to his cock, sheathing it as if it were made specifically for his thickness and length. She flinched, and he took her lips in a tender kiss. Using one hand, Tobias combed through her curls until he found her knot of pleasure. He held himself buried deep while he flicked and caressed it, teasing and tempting her to relax more. She grew slicker, and he took her lips again with a low groan of satisfaction. He slid his hands up to cup her breasts gently, his thumb caressing her hardened nipples through her thin chemisette.
“Tobias,” she gasped, her husky wail filled with rioting need.
Claiming her lips in a mimicry of his thrusting hips, he hitched her legs higher around his waist and thrust even deeper. She convulsed, tightening even more around his length. With a soft cry, she surrendered, and with a groan, Tobias emptied his seed in her.
Their harsh breathing rasped against his skin in the darkened closet, and his heart was a war drum in his ear. He wished there was a light so he could see her face. What was she thinking? Hell, what had he been thinking? And that was the problem. He hadn’t been thinking, only feeling and experiencing the utter delight of being in her arms.
He’d completely lost his self-control and the notion froze his soul. Tobias had to marry her, but how could he marry a woman who had completely destroyed his restraint in such a regard? He had made love to her in a linen closet in his home, which currently held over a hundred guests, his mother, sister…and his mistress.
Good God.
He gently pulled himself from Olivia, fishing his handkerchief from his pocket and tenderly cleaning her.
She gasped and grabbed on to his wrists. “I can do this myself,” she muttered.
He cupped her cheek with his other hand and from the heat he surmised she was blushing. “Olivia—”
“No,” she hissed fiercely. “I know what you are thinking and I assure you it is not necessary. No one but us knows and we shall keep it that way. The world cannot know I’ve been ruined.”
He rocked back on his heels, completely stunned. He waited for relief to fill him, but only felt annoyance that she would reject his offer before he’d even made it. Anger filled his veins. She shimmied off the small table, and he winced when a sob caught in her throat.
“What was I thinking?” she whispered almost to herself. A finger jabbed his chest hard. “You don’t even like me.”
A true enough statement. He had no defense and Tobias was almost afraid to analyze the manner in which she ensnared his desires.
“And I am quite certain you do not like me,” he rebutted softly. Then why had she given herself to him so sweetly, so wantonly? Why was he craving her touch even now, her taste?
Another soft exhalation filled the air. “Excuse me, I must get to my chamber right away,” she muttered and wrenched the door open.
Damnation. In her haste, she’d not thought to ensure the hallway was clear. He hurried after her, grateful there were no guests in the corridor. He had to make his position clear. Honor demanded they wed, and even now she could be with his child. He stumbled and the hand he scrubbed over his face shook. The vision of Olivia swollen with his child was…frightfully appealing.
“Olivia, wait,” he snapped.
She ignored him, almost running in her haste to get away from him. He felt like a heel. How in God’s name had they lost such control over their passions? How had he lost such control? He was the one with the experience…he should have been more protective and considerate with her burgeoning passion. Instead, he had stoked the flames and ruthlessly used her inexperience to satiate his lust.
He infused cold command in his voice. “Lady Olivia, wait!”
She jerked to a halt, and as he reached her he realized it was because his mother, his sister, and unluckily, Lady Peabody were frozen staring at Olivia. His mother looked back and forth between them and awareness dawned on her face. It was not the timing of them being seeing together in the corridor alone but the fact that Olivia’s hair was a mess, most of the pins having been dislodged. Her dress was obviously crumpled and her lips were red and swollen from his kisses. He had no notion of what his appearance was like, but she had gripped his hair and his jacket several times. There was no escaping the fact that they had been very intimate.
“Upon my word!” Lady Peabody exclaimed, speculation, glee, and then pity crossing her face. “Are you not the young lady whose father killed himself?”
Olivia’s eyes became shadowed and a flush of angry embarrassment colored her cheeks. “And what of it?” she demanded staunchly.
Lady Peabody narrowed her eyes. “You are very decisive, aren’t you?”
“That I am, my lady, and I will make
no apology for it.”
“How unseemly!”
