drop of moisture welled at the tip of his cock, and she covered it with her thumb, spreading it in circles around the broad, smooth crown. His cock jumped in her hand, and the muscles of his abdomen went hard as cobblestones.
He squeezed his eyes shut and muttered a curse. As she touched him again, his hips bucked and his shaft pumped into her hand.
Alex had never felt more powerful. Even in her ignorance, she could reduce this powerful man to a single raw, quivering nerve. She had him, quite literally, in the palm of her hand.
“Teach me,” she whispered. “Teach me what to do. What you like.”
He reached down and covered her hand with his own, guiding her into a rhythm of tight, swift strokes. Pumping faster and faster, until their linked hands were a blur. She watched his face contort, flashing back and forth between pleasure and pain. His head was thrown back, and his eyes closed tight.
He seemed to have gone somewhere else, somewhere inside himself. She wondered where his mind had traveled. Whether he was with her, or with someone else. Or perhaps he’d been transported to a place where there were no names, no faces—only sensation.
A low, primal growl forced its way through his clenched teeth. His body shuddered with release. Warmth spilled over her fingers. He released his grip on her hand, and she caressed him—equally fascinated by the softening of his cock as she had been by the hardness.
“Alexandra,” came the hoarse whisper. His hand drifted to her hair, and he tangled his fingers in her unbound locks, drawing her down for a kiss.
Wherever it was he’d journeyed to, he’d returned. He was back in the here and now, with her.
As his breathing returned to normal, she considered her options. Mutter a word of thanks and flee to her room? Pretend to fall asleep and sneak out in the middle of the night? Both of those seemed beneath her dignity.
Instead, she rolled onto her side to face him. If she avoided him now, it would only grow more and more awkward. What had just happened between them would need to be confronted, discussed.
He stared at the ceiling. “That was . . . unbelievable.”
She smiled, thrilled by his evident satisfaction and more than a bit proud of herself.
Until he went on.
“So ill advised,” he continued, groaning. “Inappropriate. Unforgivable of me.” He stood, hiking his trousers, and reached for a handkerchief to wipe away the evidence of their encounter. “I’m sorry, Alexandra. You should go up to your room, and we’ll agree that this never—”
“Don’t.” She sprang to her feet. “Don’t you dare say this never happened. It happened. I’m glad it happened. I want it to happen again.”
“Truly?”
Could that be a hint of anxious uncertainty in his eyes?
Surely not. Infamous rakes weren’t anxious or uncertain with women. Certainly not with women like Alex.
“Truly,” she assured him. “I want this.”
I want this. I want you. I want to feel wanted. Even if it’s only for a short while.
Alexandra knew she was ignoring several possible disadvantages to this affaire she’d proposed. There were dangers, certainly. He understood how to prevent both pregnancy and emotional entanglement. She, on the other hand, could only be assured of avoiding the first. After the bookshop, she’d spent months infatuated with him on the basis of a mortifying wreck of a conversation, green eyes, and a charming smile. After a summer of sensual “lessons,” she shuddered to think what fancies could bloom in her imagination.
Dreams were only that—dreams. She would have the rest of her life to forget them.
But mercy. For as long as she lived, she didn’t think she’d forget the sight before her eyes now.
As she watched, Chase lifted the far edge of the bed, hefting the heavy mattress and frame onto its end to return it to the cabinet. The powerful muscles of his arms and shoulders were on dazzling display.
Flexing.
Straining.
Licked by amber tongues of candlelight.
Lord, he was a beautiful man.
His low grunt of effort pulled her out of her reverie.
Ho there, Alexandra. Perhaps you ought to help?
She rushed to help him shove the mattress back into place, fold the bed frame’s wooden legs, and lock the cabinet. Having managed it, they turned to face one another, each resting one shoulder against the closed cabinet doors.
“So we’re agreed? On continued . . . lessons?”
He studied her face. “If you’re certain you want them.”
“Quite certain. It makes sense. The only alternative is to avoid each other all the time, growing progressively more frustrated. That’s not good for anyone in the house.” She swept a gaze about the room. “And thanks to your industriousness, we do have a secluded, private place for liaisons.”
“I’ll need to rename it.”
“Cave of Carnality doesn’t suit anymore? I thought you’d ordered the plaque.”
“If I’m giving you lessons, I think it needs something more . . . tutorial in nature. School of Sensuality,” he proposed. “Climax Classroom. Perhaps the Office of Orgasms?”
“Anything’s an improvement over the Virility Vault.” Alex smiled. She’d missed this back-and-forth with him. She looked at the fireplace mantel. “I don’t suppose you might take down the antlers?”
“What do you have against antlers, anyway?”
“I just think they could be replaced with something more welcoming. A nice landscape, perhaps.” She gave him a teasing look. “Or maybe a sampler in needlepoint? The place could use a woman’s touch.”
He took her by the waist and pulled her flush against his chest. “There’s only one thing in this room that needs a woman’s touch.”
Oh, that seductive growl in his voice did unspeakable things to her.
“Of course,” she said in her firmest governess voice, “it goes without saying we must be absolutely, entirely discreet.”
“Don’t worry. They’ll never know. Why do you think I installed new paneling? To prevent any sound from escaping. The drapes are heavy enough to keep light out, and in. And that door”—he tipped his head toward the kitchen entrance—“has three locks.”
Apparently, none of those three locks was engaged at the moment. The door swung open.
“Mr. Reynaud? Miss Mountbatten?” Daisy rubbed her eyes as she stumbled into the room.
Alexandra deftly sidestepped, putting distance
