Page 59

This wasn’t enough. Determined not to squander a moment, she tore at the last button of his waistcoat, pushing it down his arms. His lips let go of her breast with a pop, and he tossed the garment aside. Gaze fixed on her, he pulled at his shirt next, exposing the bronzed, sinewy chest of a man who’d spent years working alongside his men out in the sun of the seas.

He dragged her down to the bed, his kiss lingering before he flipped to undo the placket of his trousers and shed the rest of his clothes. His cock sprang free, hard and ready, and when she wrapped her hand around him and tested him with a stroke, he moaned.

With a smile, she opened her legs for him, pushing up on her elbows as he settled between them. She wanted to watch when he slid into her. It had always been her favorite part, the shock of connection and satisfaction of moving together toward their pleasure.

The head of his cock bumped against her slit, and he braced one hand on the bed while cupping her cheek with the other. His lips caught hers up, and then he thrust.

Lavinia gasped against his mouth, her body arching to meet him.

“I want to see,” she said, breaking away, and he edged up a little, thrusting into her again and again to satisfy her own fascination.

She’d never be as flexible as she’d been when they’d first done this, but she dropped her knees a little farther to take him to the root. He moaned when he hit home, his head falling forward on her shoulder. Only then did she let her head fall back, swept away by the incredible sensation of being stretched and pushed and taken by this man.

This could’ve been every night if only things had gone differently.

But they hadn’t. Her life hadn’t been that of a charmed lady as her mother had hoped. It hadn’t been as Andrew’s wife as she’d wanted, loved and cherished whether he was on shore leave or at sea. Nothing had turned out the way it was supposed to, but it had been her life and she wouldn’t change any of it.

Andrew slowed and her head popped up.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

He laughed even as he pulled out of her. “Stand up.”

With a curious look, she did as he asked.

“Bend over the bed.”

Oh. She knew exactly what he was about.

Bracing her hands on the mattress, she bent with her head hanging down, opening herself up to him. He slid slowly into the slickness of her, filling her even more than before.

“I remember how you liked this,” he growled in her ear. “How you would beg for more.”

Her body shivered with anticipation as he drew out slowly and slammed back into her. His hand twined in her hair, pulling her head back gently and causing her the slightest hint of pain. Yes, she did like this. She liked it almost too much, for the heat that had been building in her was now a full-fledged fire, burning out of control.

He thrust into her deeper, their bodies racing to the edge. The muscles of her legs shook, and she pressed hard into the mattress to push back even harder against him. Then, all at once, her pleasure broke and she cried out, bucking up and wrapping her hand around the back of his neck for purchase. He clasped her hand, his other braced over her stomach, pressing her back to his chest, as he thrust faster, pulling her along until he pulled out with a groan, spilling his seed on the bed linens next to them.

Exhausted, her legs finally gave out, pitching them onto the bed, their right hands still twined together.

Chapter Thirteen

AUTUMN MEANT THAT the nights were beginning to grow longer and the dawn broke late after a reluctant awakening. And that evening it also meant longer in bed, wrapped around Lavinia.

If someone had told Andrew a week ago that he’d be in digs over a coffeehouse, cradling her head on his shoulder, he would’ve laughed in disbelief. Yet that’s exactly what he was doing.

A few days ago, when he’d lost control of his senses and dragged her down to her workshop floor, she’d told him that sex had never been the thing that was broken between them. She’d always been sharper than him, and naturally, she’d been right again this time, but nothing had prepared him for what it would actually be like. Yes, there was the familiarity of an old lover, but they were different now. Lavinia had been married and he . . . well, he’d taken care of his needs when he could find a willing partner who would enjoy a brief affair while he was in port waiting for orders for his next assignment.

It wasn’t just the accumulation of their experience, however. He’d never felt the raw, unfiltered need for a woman the way he did with her. Whether he wanted to admit it not, he’d quietly burned for her all those years, and now he couldn’t ignore the flames.

Despite the late hour and the exhaustion of worrying about Lavinia while she was at the dinner party, he hadn’t hesitated when she’d lifted her kiss-swollen lips to his and tempted him once again. The second time they’d had sex, it had been slower but no less passionate, each of them rediscovering every inch of skin to find those spots that made their bodies sing. She’d taken his cock in her mouth, sucking until he could hardly think, and he’d returned the favor, burying his tongue between her folds to lap at her until she raked her nails across his shoulders.

“What are you thinking about?” she asked, casting a look up his chest now that their breathing had finally steadied.

He brushed back a strand of her mahogany hair. “That you’ve left me a broken man.”

She laughed, and he could’ve lost himself in that sound for an eternity. Lavinia had always laughed with her whole body, the emotion spilling out of her like water sloshing over the side of a glass. Her mother had tried to rein in that part of her, and he was glad to see that Mrs. Malcolm hadn’t been successful in at least that one area.

“I’m old now,” he said.