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But she was teasing him. She wanted to leave, too. Her skin was tingling, sensitive to his touch, and she felt flushed and languid. His mouth was close, and she knew she’d like nothing better than to taste him…
“Stop it,” he groaned softly.
Her lips smiled and she darted the tip of her tongue over them, aware she was increasing the tension, building the passion. “Stop what?” she said innocently.
His hand splayed over her waist, holding her firmly against him, so that they were molded together at the hips and thighs. She felt him growing hard against her, and knew from his wicked smile that he was quite prepared to play her at her own game.
She went deeper into his arms, brushing her breasts against his waistcoat, knowing they couldn’t be seen in the crush of couples around them. He dipped his head and nipped her fingers, then sucked them. She felt the warmth between her legs, the trembling in her thighs, and the ache in her breasts. Her hand slid down, delving through the folds of her skirt, and brushed the jut of his shaft.
Olivia wondered at her own daring. She was behaving in a manner she could never have imagined before she met Nic—although perhaps she could have imagined it, and that was why they were so ideally suited.
But she had pushed their game too far, and as soon as the music stopped again, he was hurrying her off the dance floor, zigzagging through the other guests with ease.
“Nic…?” she began, breathless.
The coach was waiting, and he could barely wait to collect their outdoor garments, before he was urging her inside the vehicle and closing the door.
“The long way home!” he ordered the coachman.
They moved off, heading into the London night.
Nic leaned into her as they rounded a corner, pressing her into the soft leather seats, his mouth almost but not quite touching hers.
“I’ve been wanting to do this since the moment I saw you at the top of the stairs,” he said, his voice low and soft, making her skin tingle. “I want to make love to you at least ten times a day, do you know that? If I had my way you’d never leave the bedchamber.”
She looked up at him through her lashes, aware of heavy tension between them, making it difficult to breathe evenly.
He stroked one finger down the side of her face, moving to her mouth and tracing its shape, slowly, intently. And then he began to kiss her.
Olivia felt herself melting. Her arms went around his neck and clung, their lips meeting and melding, her tongue sliding against his. He reached down, brushing aside her skirts and her petticoats. She felt his hand seeking and then he stopped, lifting his head to stare down at her.
“You’re naked,” he said, with a startled grin.
“I thought it would save time,” she replied innocently, knowing she looked anything but innocent.
He bent to press openmouthed kisses across her bosom, edging down her dress so that he could suck at her nipples. Olivia groaned and let her head fall back. A moment later Nic was pushing into her, his shaft filling her, stretching her. They paused, panting, and then he began to move, while Olivia met him with urgent jerks of her hips. When she reached her peak she muffled her cries against his shoulder, while Nic groaned deeply against her throat, resting his chin against her as he sought to catch his breath.
It felt wonderful. It always did.
Olivia reached up to brush the rogue swath of dark hair from his eyes, feeling a wave of love so powerful it made her ache all over again. The words trembled on her lips, but for a moment she held them back, uncertain whether saying them would change things between her and Nic. There was a great deal of vulnerability in not only giving your heart to someone, but in saying it aloud.
“I love you,” she whispered.
Nic’s dark eyes were hooded as he returned her gaze. “Do you realize what you’ve done by saying that to me?” he said.
“What have I done?”
“You’ve made yourself my prisoner for life.”
Olivia kissed his mouth, tenderly. “A willing prisoner, Nic.”
He rested his brow against hers and sighed. “I love you, too, Olivia. I believed my heart was locked up safe and tight, but you snuck in and stole it before I was even aware of you being there.”
She caught his face in her hands, lifting it for more kisses.
“How can I maintain my reputation as Wicked Nic if I’m in love my wife?” he protested half seriously, eagerly returning the kisses. “As a rake I’m a ruined man.”
“You’ll always be Wicked Nic to me,” she teased.
