Rose was not sure she could have spoken if she’d wanted to. The frigid air licked at her bare shoulders, but Felix’s hands were so hot she half-wondered if he’d burned her.
He pulled back a fraction. “If you wish to leave, now is the time.”
She shook her head, biting her lip.
“Do you have any idea how intoxicating it is to see you this hungry?” He smiled, and it thrilled her.
He guided her hand to the buttons of his own shirt. Her fingers fumbled, but he let her struggle, watching the way her breath shortened with each inch of skin revealed.
When his chest was bare, he took her hand and placed it in the center.
“Touch me,” he said. “This is all for you. Claim what you desire, my sweet.”
She splayed her palm there, feeling the rapid, uneven beat. Then, she ran it up and down, feeling every defined ridge of his muscled torso.
Felix bent his head to her neck. His hands wrapped around her, one at the small of her back, the other tangled in her hair.
“Tell me if you wish me to stop,” he whispered, but she only shook her head again.
He kissed her once more, more slowly this time. Then his hand slipped beneath her skirt, fingers seeking and finding the silk of her stockings. He stroked her thigh until he found the bare skin above the garter, then slid higher.
Rose gasped as he slipped one finger inside her heat, curling it against her, moving it slowly as if it was the time and place to tease. Felix’s hand grew more insistent, and he added a second finger. Each deep slide of his fingers inside her, drawing a fresh wave of pleasure that rippled through her body.
She met his touch eagerly, her hips rising to greet his hand, her slick heat gripping him tightly. His free hand roamed her body with possessive reverence. First, a thumb traced the curve of her breast, then it slipped down and anchored at her waist, guiding their shared motion.
The air between them was thick with the scent and sounds of arousal, a heady mix of sweat and desire that made Rose’s head spin.
Felix’s eyes locked on hers as his hand worked. She felt exposed, vulnerable in the most delicious way, as if every barrier she’d ever built was crumbling under the weight of his gaze.
He shifted slightly, angling his fingers to hit a spot deep within her that sent sparks of ecstasy shooting through her limbs. Her nails dug into the muscles of his back as she arched beneath him.
“Rose,” he breathed, his voice a ragged whisper against her neck. “The things you do to me…”
Her body responded instinctively, her legs tightening around his waist, drawing him closer, until the world narrowed to just this: the press of his chest against hers, the brush of his lips along her jaw, the overwhelming sensation of being utterly, blissfully consumed.
When release finally claimed her, it hit like a tidal wave. Her body convulsed around his fingers in shuddering waves of bliss. Her cry was muffled against his shoulder as he worked her through it. She sagged against him, boneless, her legs barely holding her up.
He held her there, letting her ride the tremors until they faded. Only then did he withdraw his hand, smoothing her dress down with surprising tenderness.
Rose was still shaking when he tucked a stray curl behind her ear. She looked up at him, unmoored, barely able to speak.
“We’re leaving,” he said, his voice turned hoarse.
Rose blinked. “Now?” He nodded, not looking at her. “But—Lord Aldworth… The guests… We can’t just leave.”
Felix fixed her with a look so dark and intent it felt like a hand closing around her wrist. “We can. We will.”
He quickly worked to right her clothing, then caught her hand and began to march her through the hedges, pausing only to make certain she followed. The only sign of the prior interlude was the wild rush of her pulse and the taste of him, still clinging to the roof of her mouth.
They emerged from the maze just as the lamps along the terrace flared to life. Felix did not slow. He led her past the startled footman, past the strings of laughter and the swell of music. A few heads turned, but most were too drunk or preoccupied to notice.
They nearly collided with David at the French doors. He took in their state—Felix wild-eyed, Rose half in tow, both disheveled—and smiled as if he had been waiting his whole life for this tableau.
“Not feeling well, Carden?” David asked, his voice laced with delight.
Felix did not release Rose’s hand. “Lizzie needs Rose. We’re leaving.”
David’s gaze flicked from one to the other, and a slow, wicked smile unfurled. “Of course. Safe journey to both of you.”
