Page 36
Chapter Fifteen
Returning to their suite half an hour later, he found the sitting room tidy and empty with most of the lights doused. Em will be waiting for me . . .
He opened the bedroom door and found Emily dozing over her book in bed. It had been a big day. He signaled to Kes to go to the fire, he didn’t want Kes to wake her. Then he crossed quietly to the dressing room to disrobe, wash, and clean his teeth and decided to wear a night shirt. It might afford him some protection.
He blew out the candles and slid into bed, congratulating himself on not having woken her. He was just settling into the pillows when she said, “Deo?”
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said apologetically.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” she said. The room was dim, but not completely black, and she moved toward him, nestling into his chest. His pulse raced, and his cock, which had been quiescent, stirred to attention from her proximity. A waft of rosewater assailed his nostrils, and he wrapped an arm around her warm body before he could stop himself.
Her fingers traced patterns over his chest. “Are you pleased with the progress we made today?”
“I am. Are you?”
“Yes. I am so excited about what we might find tomorrow.”
“It may take several days before we are able to open the barrow, Em,” he cautioned. “And when we do, we may find nothing of interest. You should be prepared for disappointment.”
“Oh, well, yes. But the possibility of finding something is exciting, isn’t it? And knowing who he is, well, something about him at least, our Gyn, son of Wig, makes it all the more thrilling, don’t you think?”
“Yes, it is,” he said, tightening his arm round her. She was so sweet; her enthusiasm was impossible to quash. Her fingers on his chest were distracting, too, sending little tendrils of fire south. Having her lovely, soft curves pressed against his side was so enticing and delicious. He could feel his resolve to stop the kisses crumbling by the second.
He could see the glitter of her eyes and the outline of her features in the dark, the alluring curve of her lips as she raised her face to his. She was so close he could feel the warmth of her breath on his cheek.
He wasn’t quite sure who closed the gap between them, himself or Em—perhaps it was mutual—but the pressure of her lips against his was that same drugging delight he’d experienced throughout the day and last night. Kisses are wonderful. At least with Em they are. Her rosebud mouth was perfectly delicious.
Her hand crept up round his neck and her body slid over his, her breasts pressing into his chest, her legs tangling with his. His cock grazed her hip, and he swallowed a groan, resisting the instinct to buck his hips. His hands ran over her body through her nightgown as he deepened the kiss and dimly realized he’d lost the fight to resist the temptation of kissing Emily.
She moved against him like she had last night, molding her body to his, her hips moving in a sensuous way that had his cock twitching and leaking on his belly; she returned his kisses and made those little noises in her throat that drove him mad. His hands roved over her body possessively, boldly. Her touch was pleasure and comfort. That she wanted to touch him made him aware of how starved of touch he had been and how grateful he was for it. He pulled her closer, burying his face in her neck and breathing in her scent. “Em,” he murmured. “My lovely Em.”
“Deo?” she said breathlessly, squirming against him. “Please?” she whispered, reaching for him. What is she begging me for? More kisses, more . . . With blinding insight, it hit him that he had managed to relieve himself after their heated passage of kisses last night, but she had not. And here he was compounding the problem.
“Em?” His hands ran over her squirming body, unable to resist touching her as her mouth rained kisses over his chest and her fingers grabbed at his shirt as if she couldn’t get close enough.
“Deo, please!” she said breathlessly. He kissed her again, deeply, wanting to give her whatever she desired. She reacted like tinder set alight, her legs straddling his thigh as she pushed her mound against it, her hips moving in sensuous rhythm. He could feel the dampness through her gown. Em! Oh, Em!
He deepened the kiss and wished he knew more about what to do to please her.
Kissing Emily was the most delicious thing he had ever experienced. He was hot and hard, but he ignored that, concentrating on her as she writhed on him, her breath coming in short pants, and little mewling noises escaping her as their kisses became more and more demanding and frantic.
Going purely on instinct, he rolled her over into the pillows, swapping his left leg with his right against her body. Continuing the deep drugging kisses, occasionally veering off to kiss her neck, her throat, her chin, her ear, and back to her mouth, his cock throbbed, leaking against the sheets. He ignored it. This wasn’t about him.
He shifted his body, so that he could pull her nightgown up and slide his hand beneath. His questing fingers slid over smooth thighs and found the treasure nestled between them. With tentative touches he teased her damp curls, and then with his index finger, parted her lips. Em’s exquisitely soft, satiny flesh, so wet and warm against the pad of his fingertip, made him groan with delight.
“You’re so wet!” he moaned. He pressed his groin harder against her thigh to prevent himself moving his hips in response.
She jerked under his touch and whimpered.
He stilled his hand, alarmed. “Did that hurt?”
She shook her head. “No.” Her voice was breathless. “It feels delicious.”
Encouraged, he slid his finger up and down the channel of her lips, watching her face for reactions in the dim light. He lost himself in delight, observing her changes in expression, listening to her ragged breathing, mewls, and moans, and feeling her body writhing under his touch.
What could he do to bring her relief? She was a virgin, so he hadn’t a clue if putting his fingers inside her would hurt, break her hymen, or be pleasurable for her. Deciding against risking it, he moved his fingers upward to that sensitive spot that seemed so critical to female pleasure and explored tentatively.
He could feel a raised nub of flesh, and when he touched it, Emily practically leaped off the bed with a cry.
