Page 29 of One Night with a Rake

Not that it made any sense, of course. If she were thinking clearly, she really ought to bolt from the room. After all, she was all but promised to the Duke of Cambridge.

But somehow, there was no other way to end her waltz with Nathaniel than this shared breath, this soft, moist joining of their mouths.

So she didn’t protest when he lifted her off her feet and walked her toward the nearest damask-covered wall without breaking off their kiss. Languid and sensual, it still felt like part of the dance. He set her down with her back pressed to the wall. His body moved against hers ever so slightly, his hardness against her softness.

The rhythm was hypnotic and somehow musical, as if the waltz were still going on in the way he rocked against her and she tilted into him. Their kiss deepened as she chased his tongue back into his blessed mouth.

Forgive him, he’d said. For what? He’d given her back her confidence in the ballroom. She’d be able to face Mr. Gooch tomorrow with her head high and her feet in the correct positions at all times.

Nathaniel had also taught her to kiss. At least she wouldn’t go to her wedding night completely ignorant. But if she lived to be one hundred, she’d never experience perfection to match his lips on hers.

He’d waltzed with her. She knew now what it was like to feel a man’s body all tangled up with hers. She wouldn’t be surprised by the hollow, strangely pleasant ache it caused. She’d recognize it for what it was and learn to welcome the low drumbeat in her belly, the warmth that pooled between her thighs.

It was as natural as breathing.

It was “the way of a man with a maid” conveyed with more clarity than if her mother had bungled through an attempt to explain matters to her. And it was even more exciting than Madam Charpentier’s flowery, salacious descriptions of sexual congress.

Not that what they were doing was anything remotely like actual sexual congress. If, as the courtesan’s memoirs declared, the kiss was an appetizer, this wicked bit of love play could properly be described as the first course.

Nathaniel kissed her cheeks, her neck, and all along her jawline, leaving flutters of bliss in his wake. Then the wicked man took her earlobe between his lips and sucked.

Oh, what a sinful zing of pleasure arced through her body. It was enough to make her forget she was a maiden. To forget she would eventually go to another man’s arms. To ignore the fact that he was bunching her skirts in his fist and her hem now hovered around her waist—

“Nathaniel,” she said, surprised her voice still worked.

“Mmmm?”

“What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he moved down along the edge of her bodice and let his lips hover over the peaks of her breasts. He took one into his mouth, though silk and muslin still separated them. Even so, that needy bit of her made her arch her back, the better to be suckled.

The pleasant ache turned demanding. Tyrannical. She’d never wanted for anything in all her life, but she wanted now. Even though she was still a bit fuzzy on what it was exactly that would sooth that terrible ache, Nathaniel surely knew, and he’d be more than willing to give her ease.

She’d thought herself worldly after mastering the kiss. Now she knew sensuality was an ocean. She’d barely dabbled her toes in the shallow end.

His mouth was a drugging elixir. She couldn’t be bothered to care that he was leaving a damp spot on her bodice, so long as he kept suckling her nipple through the fabric. Then his hand moved between their bodies and cupped her sex.

The effect was like heat lightning crackling over her skin, sparking with pleasure. Georgette sucked a quick breath over her teeth. Never in all her life had she imagined anyone would touch her there.

My “nethers,” for pity’s sake. She had never known what to call that part of herself and decided Mercy’s word was as good as anything.

And she’d never known that a touch there would be so shattering.

She felt achy and swollen. When one of his fingers slipped through the slit in the crotch of her pantalets, she realized she was wet too.

Slippery as moss in a well, if the way his fingers glided through her hidden valley was any indication.

He grazed an extra sensitive spot and pleasure radiated in waves from the slick folds between her legs. But the ache didn’t abate one whit. If anything, it throbbed all the harder.

Her knees started to buckle and she might have gone down if not for the way Nathaniel held her. She’d never felt so out of control, as if she were spiraling into a maelstrom with no way out.

This has to stop.

With supreme effort, she cupped his cheeks and pushed him away from her breast.

He lifted his head and met her gaze. His eyes had gone dark, the pupils enlarged so that his irises were simply rings of cobalt around black wells. His breathing was as ragged as hers. He still held her “nethers” in his hand.

She wasn’t thinking very clearly, but something niggled at her brain. He’d asked her forgiveness just before they kissed. It occurred to her that he’d known exactly what he was about to do to her.