“Well, not here, obviously. But… perhaps if we get… um…it…over and done with…” Had they really just descended into using the word “it” and hand gestures to communicate like prudes? When they had just discussed the ways that Florinda had figuratively and literally teased his cock and yet neither of them could mention the word “kiss” to one another! “… as quickly as possible, it might bring an end to our odd moments, don’t you think?”
Guy thought it would be easier to throw snowballs in hell but nodded anyway. “It might.”
And more likely it might not. He knew already a kiss wasn’t going to be enough to satisfy his craving. Nor, he suspected, was burying himself to the hilt inside her. Guy didn’t want a taste of Lottie, he wanted all of her. Forever—except how could he plan forever with a woman he hadn’t yet known a whole month?
But, heaven help him, he wanted to kiss her. So much at this precise moment he was happy to grab any excuse to overrule the increasingly irritating fearful voice in his head that urged for less haste and more caution. “What do we do if it doesn’t work?” Because he suspected he would be right back where he was days ago—years ago—ready to throw all caution to the wind once more for a woman he barely knew. “What ifitjust makes everything worse?”
She shrugged, blushing again, which he found delightful when she was usually such a supposedly unshockable farmer’s daughter. “Cross that bridge when we come to it?”
Not the answer a man who preferred to be in control needed to hear.
“It’s not much of a plan but I suppose it will have to do.” Not quite believing how utterly reckless he was about to be, Guy grabbed her hand. “Follow me.”
Because he was in a hurry, he practically sprinted her across the yard, through the deserted stables, right to the tack room beyond where they had both privacy and a back door to escape out of if they needed one. He let go of her to close the door and then they just stared at one another.
She at one end of the small room and he at the other.
The air between them so charged with pent-up lust and anticipation it was a wonder it didn’t crackle. “Here we are then,” he said.
“Here we are.” Her cornflower eyes were darkened with desire. Her gaze dropped to his mouth and held.
Guy wasn’t sure who moved first, or if, like they did at the church gates, they did it together, but they collided on a mutual groan and a tangle of arms, legs, and hungry mouths.
They did not waste any time on preamble. Things were too far gone for that, so instead they picked up exactly where they had left off when Longbottom had interrupted. Guy’s hands filled with her bottom; hers in his hair.
When that proved to be nowhere near enough, their hands went wandering. Hers explored his chest and shoulders beneath his coat, then when the coat got in the way she wrestled him out of it. Guy smoothed his palms up her ribs, sliding them forward so that he could finally cup her breasts. She sighed into his mouth as his thumbs teased her nipples over her clothes, arching her hips against his erection and sending him out of his mind.
“Touch me properly.” Lottie shrugged her arms out of her coat. “Touch my skin.”
It was an invitation he could not turn down, so with no finesse whatsoever he yanked the hem of her blouse from the waistband of her breeches and slipped his hand beneath.
Her skin was as smooth as satin, the soft swell of her breast slotted perfectly in the center of his palm. He tested its weight before he allowed his fingers to tease her tight nipple tighter still. “Don’t you ever wear stays, woman?” He tore his mouth away to watch the pleasure his touch was bringing her.
“I don’t exactly have much to put in them, do I?”
He growled at that unnecessary apology, sliding in his other hand so that he could cup them both. “You are perfect, Lottie Travers. These are more than perfect.” He pinched both nipples simultaneously and watched her eyes roll back in her head. “And so sensitive.” If they hadn’t been in the tack room, he would have peeled her blouse off there and then and worshipped them with his mouth.
“And you are so big,” she said as her hands splayed over his chestmuscles before one of them snaked its way down his abdomen and boldly explored the bulge straining against his breeches. “So—”
They froze at the sound of footsteps in the stables behind them. His hands still filled with her breasts and hers still flattened against his throbbing cock. Foreheads touching as their breath sawed in and out.
“All the stalls need fresh hay, Tom.” Bill was clearly giving the lad his list of daily chores. “The water troughs need filling and then you need to take Blodwyn to the blacksmith. She’s thrown a shoe and one of the ladies might need her this afternoon if they decide to ride rather than walk to the village. But Hercules needs a good session in the training yard first.”
The footsteps retreated, meaning the coast was clear again, but the lull in proceedings seemed a good time to double-check that Lottie was still up for what they were doing.
“Do you want to stop?”
She gently massaged his crotch as her teeth nipped his bottom lip. “I want you to touch me some more.”
“Here…?” He squeezed her breasts, the unabashed pleasure she took from it killing him. “Orthere?” He flicked his eyes downward.
“Definitelythere. I ache for you, Guy.”
Bloody hell, he was doomed. For how could any man resist such temptation?
“Oh, Lottie…” With clumsy fingers he undid the top few buttons on the falls of her breeches and then, because he wanted to remember every moment of this for the rest of his life, slowly edged his hand inside. His fingertips had just discovered the soft curls between her thighs when she caught his wrist.
“Wait… I want to touch you too. Can I?”
