Nine Rules to Break When Romancing a Rake
Page 38
She opened her eyes at the sudden freedom, at the cool air rushing across her chafed skin, and she met his searing gaze for an instant before he pulled back to look at her bare br**sts. Her skin shimmered in the flickering light from the streets beyond, and when he set one hand to her, she found herself unable to tear her gaze from the image of his fingers, stark against her paleness. The picture was more erotic than she could have imagined. She watched as he soothed the abraded skin and rubbed a thumb across her bare nipple, circling it gently, causing it to harden.
She shifted in his lap at the sensation, and he let out a low hiss as her hip pressed against the firm length of him. She was consumed by a feeling of feminine power, and she repeated the motion, this time rocking deliberately against him. He breathed deeply and stilled her with an iron grip, meeting her eyes. When he spoke, his voice was rough. “It’s a dangerous game you play, Minx. And I am a formidable opponent.”
Her eyes widened in surprise at the words. When he set his mouth to her breast, it was her turn to gasp. His tongue circled one peaked nipple before his lips closed around it and he sucked gently, working the hardened tip with mouth and teeth until she cried out, putting her hands to his head, clutching his hair.
He lifted his mouth from her, blowing a stream of cool air across her pebbled nipple, teasing her with the lightness of the caress. “Ralston.” His name on her lips was harsh, pleading.
“Yes?”
“Don’t stop,” she whispered into the darkness. “Please.”
His teeth flashed in a wicked grin. He shook his head, watching her, fascinated by her request. “So bold. You know exactly what you want, despite never having had it before.”
“Ralston,” she said again, writhing on his lap, frustration in her tone. “Please.”
He kissed her, unable to deny the keen satisfaction he felt at her honest response to his caresses. How long had it been since he’d been with a woman who was so open? He could become addicted to her eagerness, to her enthusiasm. He pulled away from the rough kiss to reward her. “With pleasure, my lady,” he said, and set his lips to her other breast. Callie cried his name, the sound echoing in the darkness, sending a jolt of pleasure through him, straight to his core.
He wanted her. In the carriage. He wanted to bury himself deep within her and show her what passion could be.
The thought shocked him from the moment, and he lifted his mouth from her breast, turning his attention to the street beyond. He swore roundly. This was not a woman one took in a carriage. This was Lady Calpurnia Hartwell, sister of the Earl of Allendale. She was half-undressed, and they were mere minutes from her home. How had he so lost control?
He began to set Callie to rights, straightening the bodice of her dress as she sat, confused, on his lap, watching him with wide, searching eyes. “We are almost at Allendale House,” he said.
The words spurred Callie into motion. She leapt from his lap onto the seat across from him, yanking at her bodice. Her gloves made dexterity impossible and she clawed at them, freeing her hands to tighten her laces. She scrambled to collect her hairpins, which were scattered across the coach, to restore her hair to its former state. He watched as she did it, trying not to notice the swell of her br**sts straining against the rough wool of her dress. He resisted the urge to stop her from taming her mane of hair, instead reaching down to collect several more pins from the floor and offer them to her.
She took them, brushing her fingers across his, releasing more of the searing heat that had built between them. “Thank you,” she said quietly, flustered. She secured the last of her errant curls and placed her hands in her lap.
Gone was the passionate woman he had uncovered; returned was the prim and proper Lady Calpurnia. Ralston leaned back on the seat, watching her as the carriage pulled to a stop just outside of the Allendale driveway.
“I was not certain if the driver should take you to the door,” he said. “Are you planning a clandestine reentry?”
She gave him a small smile. “Indeed, I am, my lord.”
“Ah, so we are back to ‘my lord.’”
She did not reply, instead dipping her head shyly. He couldn’t see in the darkness of the coach, but he knew she blushed.
“I should like to escort you to the door.”
“There is no need.”
“Nevertheless—”
She interrupted. “I think it best I go alone. If we were found together…” The sentence did not have to be finished. With a nod, Ralston swung open the door and alighted to hand her down to the street.
He stood unmoving, watching until she had safely entered the house through the darkened front door before he climbed back up into the carriage and, with a sharp rap to the ceiling, signaled the coachman to drive on.
Eight
Callie closed the wide oak door to Allendale House with a soft click before releasing a long sigh and leaning back against the cool wood. She slipped her key back into the hidden pocket of Anne’s cloak and placed one bare hand to the pulse at her throat, attempting to stem the pounding there.
The great marble entryway was dark and quiet; the ball had ended hours earlier, and the servants, having finished tidying the space, had taken to their beds, leaving Callie in a silence that offered her a chance to address her racing thoughts. She had set out for an adventure that evening…and an adventure she had had!
A giggle escaped her at the thought, and her hand flew to her mouth to stem the noise as she surprised herself. Ladies of her age most certainly did not giggle…but for some reason it seemed an appropriate response tonight…as she sneaked back into her home after an evening filled with excitement. She felt another laugh bubbling up and quashed it. She had to get herself above stairs and into bed before she was discovered. She had worked too hard to keep her activities that night a secret—she would not allow herself to be caught!
She shifted in his lap at the sensation, and he let out a low hiss as her hip pressed against the firm length of him. She was consumed by a feeling of feminine power, and she repeated the motion, this time rocking deliberately against him. He breathed deeply and stilled her with an iron grip, meeting her eyes. When he spoke, his voice was rough. “It’s a dangerous game you play, Minx. And I am a formidable opponent.”
Her eyes widened in surprise at the words. When he set his mouth to her breast, it was her turn to gasp. His tongue circled one peaked nipple before his lips closed around it and he sucked gently, working the hardened tip with mouth and teeth until she cried out, putting her hands to his head, clutching his hair.
He lifted his mouth from her, blowing a stream of cool air across her pebbled nipple, teasing her with the lightness of the caress. “Ralston.” His name on her lips was harsh, pleading.
“Yes?”
“Don’t stop,” she whispered into the darkness. “Please.”
His teeth flashed in a wicked grin. He shook his head, watching her, fascinated by her request. “So bold. You know exactly what you want, despite never having had it before.”
“Ralston,” she said again, writhing on his lap, frustration in her tone. “Please.”
He kissed her, unable to deny the keen satisfaction he felt at her honest response to his caresses. How long had it been since he’d been with a woman who was so open? He could become addicted to her eagerness, to her enthusiasm. He pulled away from the rough kiss to reward her. “With pleasure, my lady,” he said, and set his lips to her other breast. Callie cried his name, the sound echoing in the darkness, sending a jolt of pleasure through him, straight to his core.
He wanted her. In the carriage. He wanted to bury himself deep within her and show her what passion could be.
The thought shocked him from the moment, and he lifted his mouth from her breast, turning his attention to the street beyond. He swore roundly. This was not a woman one took in a carriage. This was Lady Calpurnia Hartwell, sister of the Earl of Allendale. She was half-undressed, and they were mere minutes from her home. How had he so lost control?
He began to set Callie to rights, straightening the bodice of her dress as she sat, confused, on his lap, watching him with wide, searching eyes. “We are almost at Allendale House,” he said.
The words spurred Callie into motion. She leapt from his lap onto the seat across from him, yanking at her bodice. Her gloves made dexterity impossible and she clawed at them, freeing her hands to tighten her laces. She scrambled to collect her hairpins, which were scattered across the coach, to restore her hair to its former state. He watched as she did it, trying not to notice the swell of her br**sts straining against the rough wool of her dress. He resisted the urge to stop her from taming her mane of hair, instead reaching down to collect several more pins from the floor and offer them to her.
She took them, brushing her fingers across his, releasing more of the searing heat that had built between them. “Thank you,” she said quietly, flustered. She secured the last of her errant curls and placed her hands in her lap.
Gone was the passionate woman he had uncovered; returned was the prim and proper Lady Calpurnia. Ralston leaned back on the seat, watching her as the carriage pulled to a stop just outside of the Allendale driveway.
“I was not certain if the driver should take you to the door,” he said. “Are you planning a clandestine reentry?”
She gave him a small smile. “Indeed, I am, my lord.”
“Ah, so we are back to ‘my lord.’”
She did not reply, instead dipping her head shyly. He couldn’t see in the darkness of the coach, but he knew she blushed.
“I should like to escort you to the door.”
“There is no need.”
“Nevertheless—”
She interrupted. “I think it best I go alone. If we were found together…” The sentence did not have to be finished. With a nod, Ralston swung open the door and alighted to hand her down to the street.
He stood unmoving, watching until she had safely entered the house through the darkened front door before he climbed back up into the carriage and, with a sharp rap to the ceiling, signaled the coachman to drive on.
Eight
Callie closed the wide oak door to Allendale House with a soft click before releasing a long sigh and leaning back against the cool wood. She slipped her key back into the hidden pocket of Anne’s cloak and placed one bare hand to the pulse at her throat, attempting to stem the pounding there.
The great marble entryway was dark and quiet; the ball had ended hours earlier, and the servants, having finished tidying the space, had taken to their beds, leaving Callie in a silence that offered her a chance to address her racing thoughts. She had set out for an adventure that evening…and an adventure she had had!
A giggle escaped her at the thought, and her hand flew to her mouth to stem the noise as she surprised herself. Ladies of her age most certainly did not giggle…but for some reason it seemed an appropriate response tonight…as she sneaked back into her home after an evening filled with excitement. She felt another laugh bubbling up and quashed it. She had to get herself above stairs and into bed before she was discovered. She had worked too hard to keep her activities that night a secret—she would not allow herself to be caught!
