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Closing his eyes, Jude breathed in the flowered scent of her hair, his whole body tightening with arousal as he drew her in. But he only held her, hoping he could calm her even as his mind raced. If he had to let her go, he'd do so with grace. Or at least pretend to.
"You're warm," she whispered, unbuttoning his coat to slide her hands against his shirt. For a moment it seemed an innocent quest for comfort, but she kept touching him in wide, slow strokes, and then she pressed her lips against his heart.
"Marissa," he said, meaning to remind her that someone would surely notice their absence soon, but then she whispered "Kiss me. Please?" and the warning died in his throat.
He kissed her, just as she'd asked, aware of her body melting into his as she met his sigh with one of her own. But Marissa was no longer content with just being kissed, and he could feel the racing emotion like another pulse beneath her skin. She kissed him hard and slid her hands along his waist, tugging at the fabric ... and he suddenly felt the electric shock of her hands on his bare skin.
Stop, his brain said, but his body was still primed with aggression from the confrontation with White. His mouth refused to free itself. His throat refused to form a sound of warning. Instead he growled encouragement as she pushed his shirt higher and spread her hands wide.
Yes, this was what he wanted from her. Her arms holding him, nails digging into his skin to urge him closer. He wanted closer. He wanted in.
They were just past the small gazebo, a private little bower where they wouldn't be disturbed, the perfect place for a seduction, though he had no idea who was being seduced. Him or her or both of them.
Jude picked her up, just as he'd yearned to before, and he carried her into the gazebo as she kissed his neck, her mouth impossibly hot against his skin. The edge of his cravat kept her from exploring further, and he wanted to tear it off, throw down his coat and shirt, and let her explore as she wished. She was right, after all; he wasn't her tutor. He wasn't her master. He was her equal, and in that moment he regretted the control he'd exercised over his own lust. Who the hell was he to protect her from herself?
So he did it. Jude set her on a cushioned bench and shrugged out of his coat. He pulled at the knot of his cravat, and tugged his shirt over his head.
Moonlight slanted through the latticed wood, throwing ribbons of light across her face. It was just enough to make out her hungry eyes as he sat down and pulled her onto his lap.
'Jude," she breathed, pressing kisses to his shoulder. Her hands ran eager paths down his arms and back up, then around to his back before touching his chest again. "My God ..."
He held her by the waist and let her do what she wanted. Anything she wanted. She licked his neck and kissed his nipples and nuzzled her cheek against the hair on his chest. She whispered how large he was, and hot, and how much she'd wanted to do this. Her innocence was a starving thing, and in that moment, he was shocked she hadn't lost her maidenhead long ago. Passion seemed to have replaced the very blood in her veins.
"I want to see all of you," she whispered, the words a strange combination of lust and embarrassment. He would've said no if she demanded it, but she sounded so tentative.
Cursing himself, Jude reached for the buttons of his trousers, and Marissa slid back to give him room.
In that moment, the moon lit her whole face, and Jude froze. He wanted more than this lust, more than this night.
"Damn it," he growled. "I can't."
"Jude, please. We can—"
"I can't."
Her face fell, so he reached for her again. "Come here." He lifted her high enough to straddle him, then nearly moaned at the feel of her legs gripping his hips. Her bottom rested so close to his cock.
"I can't," he whispered against her neck. "I'm sorry." But when he sucked at her neck, she sobbed with need, and Jude couldn't leave her like that, no matter his intentions.
He gathered her skirts higher, and slid both hands beneath her chemise.
"Jude," she moaned as his palms settled against the hot skin of her buttocks. Good Christ, she was soft and sweet and warm.
He could free himself from his trousers and guide her onto his cock. And she would ride him, innocent or not. She'd ride him as his hands clenched the round cheeks of her bottom, and it would be the best moment of his life.
Sweat trickled down his temple as Marissa's hips moved restlessly against his hold. He urged her up, her knees pressing into the cushions of the bench, and Jude slid one hand along the seam of her body. The tips of his fingers slid along slick heat, and Marissa jerked hard against him, setting his heart into a gallop.
He circled his fingers over her, and she jerked again, her nails digging into his shoulders. His mouth watered at the feel of her wet flesh, at the way his fingers slipped along her. He couldn't resist pressing one finger in, just to feel what it would be like. The soft heat and squeezing tightness.
"Jude," she moaned. "Oh, Jude."
A shudder took her, or him. She pressed so tightly to his chest that he could not tell. All he knew was the feel of her and her thighs shaking as he stroked her, careful to concentrate his motions on that tight pearl of nerves.
She repeated his name like a desperate prayer, her hips rising and falling in a rhythm that left him clenching his jaw so hard that his teeth ached. His cock throbbed in time with her small movements. She wanted him. Wanted it. Wanted to be stretched and filled with his cock.
Now, he thought, meaning to unfasten his trousers and plunge inside her, but then Marissa's body drew tight, her breath gathering in, and she climaxed, sobbing and shaking in his arms, her thighs trembling and her sex pulsing around his fingers.
"Oh, Jude. Oh, God," she cried, her mouth pressed to his neck, the words echoing through his flesh.
