Page 39 of One Night with a Rake

Her face hovered before his for a moment. Her long hair, which she’d neglected to braid for the night, trailed down on either side of her face, a fair, slightly curling nimbus. She was as disheveled an angel as he could wish. An angel he was bound to ruin.

He closed his eyes.

“Look at me, Nathaniel Colton.” She put both hands on his cheeks, willing him to open his eyes. When he looked at her, he feared she saw his soul, shimmering black. In her clear-eyed gaze, he saw her soul as well, radiating healing and a benediction for his tortured conscience.

If she only knew.

She pressed her lips gently against his. It was a kiss sweet enough to make cherubs weep.

“It’s not your fault.” Georgette kissed him again, deeper this time, parting her lips slightly in invitation.

He was quick to answer her, slipping his tongue in to explore her delectable mouth.

Finally, she pulled away and to his utter surprise, she slipped off her wrapper and laid down on the banquette.

His heart threatened to batter its way out of his rib cage.

Nate lay down beside her, his body snugged next to hers. He kissed her slowly. If he was going to ruin her, the least he could do was make sure she enjoyed it.

Then he released her lips and traced his fingertips from the part in her hair, along the edge of her brows, and past her temples. He buried his hand in her hair, holding her immobile. Lightning flashed outside, and in the brief moment of illumination, he caught a glimpse of Georgette. Her eyes were shining and her lips softly parted.

It was a look of utter trust.

Thrusting his conscience aside, he bent to kiss her again. But she turned her head shyly, so his lips grazed the corner of her mouth. He left a trail of moist kisses over her jawline, and down her neck, lingering in the soft hollow at the base of her throat. His lips hovered lightly at the lacy edge of her night shift.

Her breathing hitched.

His hand traced the same path his mouth traveled, lightly skimming the surface of her silky skin. Teasing and circling, he occasionally dipped beneath her shift to stroke the upward curve of her breasts. One tug on the lace bow at the center of her neckline was all it took. The knot gave like a cowardly sentry, surrendering without a fight.

He found her mouth once more, as one by one he undid the tiny buttons that held her night shift closed. Slowly, his fingers grazed her breasts as he laid back each side of her shift, baring her upper body to the navel. Goose bumps rippled across her skin. Nate laid his head on her soft shoulder, sending his warm breath swirling over her exposed flesh.

Her breasts rose and fell in little hitching breaths.

He rose up and looked down at her. Her breasts were perfect, her nipples drawn up into hard knots. He planted a soft kiss on one. She quivered a little, as if in anticipation of where he’d touch, he’d kiss, he’d taste next.

She inhaled sharply when his hand settled on her flat belly, his long fingers splayed as though claiming her. Slowly and smoothly, his hand traveled upward, over her navel and rib cage, and came to rest in the sweet valley between her breasts, his thumb cradled under one of them.

Beneath his palm, Georgette’s heart hammered like a small, wild creature, freshly captured and terrified. He nuzzled one of her breasts, taking the nipple gently between his teeth. A tiny gasp escaped from her lips.

“Georgette,” he said huskily. He stroked the underside of her breast with his thumb in small, unhurried circles. His conscience was back and bearing a hooked barb this time. It poked at his soul. “This is your last chance. Do you want me to stop?”

Georgette bit her lip, but she didn’t make him wait long.

“No. Don’t stop.”

***

Nate kissed her again as his hand closed over her breast, softly kneading and flicking her nipple with his thumb. Tiny jolts coursed through her with each thrum.

His mouth left hers and began a trek downward, his teeth grazing her collarbone on their way to her breasts. His lips, wet and warm, traced a lazy figure eight around and between the taut mounds. Then his tongue brushed her nipples in a leisurely series of whorls and flicks.

Georgette squirmed beneath him, her breathing ragged. She liked his mouth on her, but it only seemed to compound her problem. She still wasn’t sure what it was she needed him to do, but the need was so strong if he didn’t do it soon, she’d be reduced to pleading.

“Please,” she heard herself gasp, as she instinctively arched her back to thrust her breasts upward to him. The pounding storm outside the house paled beside the one building inside her.

Nate took her tender, swollen nipple into his mouth and sucked. Georgette moaned softly.

“Oh, yes.”