Page 40 of One Night with a Rake

But with the ache in her breasts momentarily appeased, the pounding drumbeat began to build elsewhere. She was so empty. Then the heat began. It was as if a set of signal fires had been lit, one after another, till she was ready to burst into flames.

Nate’s hardness pressed up against her thigh through the thin fabric of her night shift. His body rocked slowly, raking his full length against her. His arousal was fresh kindling for her fire. A throb from the small folds between her legs answered his slow knock.

On top of the fire, now her whole world was growing wet and languid.

Nate’s hand began to roam again, this time rucking up her shift and running his palm along her thigh, up over her abdomen, and down the other leg. Shivers of anticipation slid over her with each pass as his hand inched toward the inside of her thigh. Almost without her volition, her legs parted, but he avoided her triangle of soft brown curls. His long capable fingers danced ever closer, but never quite invaded her most sensitive, personal parts.

She ached so. Never in all her life could she have imagined wanting someone to touch her there, of all places. She couldn’t even feel shame over it. The raw need was so strong it drove out all those smaller, more virtuous urges like modesty and restraint.

She’d always wondered about the obscure wording in the marriage rite, the part about “with my body, I thee worship.”

This didn’t feel like worship. It was more like delicious torment.

A clambering riot of sensations raced through her, seething, demanding…what? If he touched her there, what then? Would she spontaneously combust this time?

She didn’t care. If he didn’t touch her nethers soon, she’d have to force his hand between her legs or die.

“Nathaniel.” She chanted his name over and over in a dazed whisper.

“Hmm?” His mouth left her breast long enough to make this vague inquiry before he transferred his attentions to the other stiff peak.

“I want—”

A shuddering moan slipped from her lips when he finally cupped her sex. She couldn’t have finished that sentence if her hope of heaven depended upon it. It was all she could do to force herself to keep breathing as he explored her slick wetness. He tenderly eased the swollen lips apart to slide three fingers down the length of her moist cleft.

She cried out when his fingertip grazed that sensitive spot again. When his fingers returned to stroke it, a coil seemed to tighten within, like a watch spring being wound beyond the breaking point.

She arched herself into his hand. She was standing too close to a precipice, drawn inexorably to the edge, unable, unwilling to pull back from the headlong fall. Her hips rose and fell to meet his hand, urging him to stroke her.

Harder. Faster. Dear God…

Against her expectations, she didn’t erupt into flames. Instead she unraveled. The coil snapped and her entire body bucked with the strength of her release.

Pleasure radiated outward. It spread the length of her from fingertips to toes, flooding her with an ethereal sense of lightness and well-being. If Nathaniel hadn’t anchored her to the banquette with a leg hooked over hers, she might have floated right up to the library’s high ceiling.

When her breathing returned to normal, Nate eased himself on top of her, resting the bulk of his weight on his elbows. A flash of lightning brightened the alcove, and Georgette looked up into his face.

A lazy, self-congratulatory half smile tugged at his lips. Then he met her gaze with an intense look.

A knowing look, Georgette realized. Suddenly, the oblique biblical reference to the marital act rose in her mind. “And Adam knew his wife, Eve.” She’d always assumed the King James translators were being coy. Now the wording took on fresh depth. Nate definitely knew her now.

I’m going to have to start paying better attention in church.

There was no doubt Nate knew her body better than she did herself. All the secret places, her earlobes, her neck, all the shivery spots on her skin. He knew how to drive her beyond rational thought, beyond her wildest imaginings, beyond caring whether it was right or wrong.

He caressed her mouth with his, lightly nibbling her lower lip. His banyan, which had only been closed with a sash at his waist, was open now. Skin on skin, she felt him. His chest on hers, their breathing in rhythm. His belly on hers all warm. Him, hard and smooth, between her legs.

Surprisingly, the ache that had so recently been banished returned with a vengeance, sharper edged and still hungry. The empty void inside her whimpered to be filled. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down to feel the full weight of his body on hers.

“Easy, now,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

He edged forward slightly, filling her opening snugly. Even though he was goodly sized and she ought to have felt a bit of maidenly dismay, she was so wet, there was no pain as just the tip of him entered. Instead relief washed over her. Relief to have him.

To hold him.

He took a deep breath and stopped his forward progress before more than an inch of his considerable length was inside her. A muscle ticked in his cheek and his eyes were squeezed shut.

Frustration raked her. Georgette rocked her pelvis in an effort to draw him further in. The throbbing had returned in earnest. She was sure he must feel the drumbeat, the heat, the infernal ache.