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Her caress moulded to the base of his back and climbed to one taut buttock then back. He responded with a thumb teasing her nipple.
In seconds, he braced his hands on her sides and rose to look at her. It caused his hips to weigh on her. Suddenly, she recognized a tightening inside her.
His tempestuous gaze sought hers. “Hell, Harriet. I must be a freak because I need you again.”
She opened more for him, circled his thighs with hers. “That makes two of us.”
With a victorious glint in his eyes, he drove in her ready channel. “If I knew it would be so mind-blowing, I’d have asked this of you years ago.” Out, and back in, he grunted.
But he stretched her to bursting point, his pubic bone smashing on her nub, her head fell back with a moan. “Darn it all, Samuel!” she blurted. “This thing you have there is so delicious.” Her hips lifted in search of more of him. “It fills me completely.”
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p; “Good, because you’re fisting me to insanity.” He moved deep.
“Please, don’t stop. Just don’t stop.” They sped up in pure urgency.
“Never.” And kept his promise.
When her explosion came, it was so blasting, it splintered her into thousands of pieces, her every muscle trembled and contracted and spasmed out of control.
It must have done something to Samuel because he followed, panting, tensing and groaning as if the world had just ended.
Harriet remained awake long after Samuel fell asleep sprawled on his belly, half over her, a leg tangled in hers, head on the curve of her neck, one arm possessively around her waist. The bed sheets and coverlet crumpled and twisted in a cocoon around them.
She found more joy in this one night than in five years of marriage she marvelled. During that period, she did not conceive. The fact caused mixed impressions. With a marriage like hers, a child would not have been happy. As a widow, she would not have had the conditions to bring it up properly. So, in that light, she guessed it had been better not to bring an infant with an uncertain future into her household.
No children also led her to conclude that she must be barren. It did not matter as she harboured no plans to marry a second time. And it kept her worries away as for tonight and its possible consequences. Undoubtedly, this thing would come to an end eventually. Rather sooner, as the professor was due to return in a fortnight or so. Not even an open-minded academic as Mr Hayley would accommodate a governess who carried on trysts. In the off-chance the latter got her with child, immediate dismissal would most certainly ensue. In her circumstances, not conceiving should be regarded as an advantage despite everything.
With a sigh, she turned onto her side to find sleep. Unconscious as he was, Samuel did not let go, but moved to spoon her, merging his jaw in her dishevelled hair. A faint, fond smile came to her lips seconds before slumber claimed her.
CHAPTER SIX
“You never told me why you don’t get along with Trent,” came Samuel’s question a week later. They were in the study filing the large number of notations from his lectures and the professor’s. It had been a busy year for both botanists.
A week when she had experienced unspeakable carnality under cover of the night. If she did not know better, she would have been scared about her own hunger.
Harriet stood by the desk sorting the sheets onto the right piles placed before her as her gaze snapped to him.
“I’m not sure I should tell you, since you both are friends,” she expressed, unwilling to interfere with their relationship.
“We’ve never been exactly friends, we got to Oxford in the same term,” behind the spectacles, his gaze studied her. “Besides, he’s too different from me for us to be close.”
She knew it to be the case, deciding Samuel had a right to hear what she had to say. Staring directly at him, her hands laced in front of her. “He propositioned me during his undergraduate period.” The memory was not pleasant at all and it showed in her stiff, unsmiling stance.
Samuel’s expression closed, transforming into a mask of distaste. His spine straightened to his full impressive height, hands fisting by his side. “The damnable villain!”
“When I refused, he started harassing me,” she added.
Now his posture had gone positively aggressive. “Did he—?”
“No. He had to watch his behaviour for I am under Professor Hayley’s protection.”
His response to what she told him surprised her. Most people, men or women, would have blamed her for the ruffian’s actions. In their eyes, women would always be held accountable for any harm come to them, even if they were the victims of such actions.
“And yesterday?” he asked, his jaw ticking, brows crumpled.
“Repeated the proposition,” she said, and paused at the loathing the memory evoked. “After implying I might get unemployed.”
