Page 60 of Beguiling the Baron

Chapter 39

Tia sank her body blissfully into the clean, citrus smell of Hal’s cologne on the pillow, mingled with the scent of lavender from the sheet. Sitting up, she eagerly pulled her nightgown over her head—and gazed at Hal.

He stood by the bed, watching her, unbuttoning his breeches. Her breath caught as his splendidly engorged member sprang free. This was what she had done to him—she had reduced this man with his power, his wealth, and his glorious body to this intense state of desire. His world was focused entirely on her, as was her own on him.

“Are we going to make love?” She nodded coyly at his magnificent hardness.

He tilted his head at her. “Without the benefit of wedlock? No, my dear. I gave in to temptation once and am ashamed of my lack of self-control. But it doesn’t mean we can’t share the pleasures of the flesh. Though you must trust me, and not be embarrassed or ashamed.”

“Do I appear ashamed?” She stretched her naked limbs out across the bed.

He threw his head back and laughed. Her heart leapt. Such a revelation to hear him laugh so naturally, so easily, no longer sounding as if he tried using muscles that had forgotten how to work. She shifted across the bed as he reclined on his side. The heated tip of his manhood pressed against her leg. It was fascinating how the thing seemed to have a life of its own.

Thrills of arousal washed through her as he cradled her close, skin to skin, rocking gently against her in a taunting, tempting rhythm. When he kissed her, deeply probing her mouth with his tongue, she wound her arms around his neck and pushed her fingers into his golden hair.

Supporting himself on one elbow, his free hand busied itself with long, lavish strokes of her breasts, her belly, her hips. Her skin leapt to exquisite awareness at his touch, and she reached out, mimicking his actions, delighting in the softness of his flesh and the hardness of the muscle beneath.

She traced the pattern of downy hair adorning his torso, following the valley between the muscles of his midriff. Her fingers joined with the tantalizing forest of curls whence his manhood sprung, pressing urgently against her thigh.

Each time she tentatively explored him, he responded with a sigh, a movement, a more ardent pressure in their kiss. He repaid her by trailing a line of kisses across her collarbone before—oh, glory—taking one aching nipple into his mouth.

Her body arched as his tongue slid across the tender tip, bucking when his teeth first grazed, then gently nibbled at it. She rained kisses on the top of his head because it was all she could reach.

So lost was she in a sensuous daze, she barely noticed when he parted her legs. But when his finger slipped between the now-slick folds at the core of her femininity, something seemed to burst inside her, and she clutched at him, moaning.

Gradually, the expert stroking of his finger brought her body to a state of excitement so intense she knew not how to bear it, and she rocked her hips up, down, craving release.

Would he penetrate her again? Unite his potent masculinity with her soft femininity, fill her with his essence, become one with her?

Through the miasma of pleasure, there was a pull of disappointment. He’d told her he wouldn’t enter her again until they were married. How could she possibly wait?

“Please,” she begged against his mouth, reaching for him.

“I won’t take you now. But touch me, Tia, please. Don’t be afraid. I need to find release.”

He pulled her hand down to his throbbing member, and she gripped it firmly, eliciting a low groan from deep in his throat. Fascinated, she ran her fingers along the hot, hard shaft, tested its weight, explored the skin, softer and finer than anything she had ever touched—and his body arched and bucked as hers had.

His fingers slid deep inside her, massaging her intimately, his palm pressing against her mound—and she lost all control. Time and place shifted to nothing but her body and his, clenched together in intense concentration, eking out each drop of sinful sensation, beyond words, beyond thought.

Anxious to savor every last instant of pleasure, she squeezed her legs tight and continued to run her hand firmly up and down his shaft, stroking, delighting in the way it made him groan and squirm, as lost in the moment as she, both of them devoted slaves to the earthly delights of the flesh.

His breathing quickened, his body tightened, and his hand came up to grasp her shoulder. With a cry, he relaxed against her, chest heaving, spasms rippling across his body.

The grip on her shoulder eased, and he nuzzled into her neck like a child. She wrapped a leg around him, bringing him as close into her embrace as she could. They were now so hot she half expected to see steam coming off their bodies, but she couldn’t bear to let go of him, to release her hold on the man who had brought her such fulfillment.

When his breathing finally returned to normal, he shifted and lay on his back, pulling her head onto the pad of his shoulder. A sticky coldness against her leg verified he’d spilled his essence. Next time, when they were married, he would be inside her and his seed would not be wasted.

Her thoughts gradually came back into focus. There was, of course, only one answer to the question he had asked earlier. There was only one result to truly satisfy them both.

But dared she give that answer when there was so much she didn’t yet know about him?