‘I hope you think so, too.’
‘Definitely.’
They stood there, kissing until Kit gently eased her back into the shadows of the summer house. She saw he’d brought a blanket and pillows. In the corner sat a basket full of food and wine.
‘I also wanted to be prepared.’ His breath caressed her ear. ‘Food or passion first?’
‘What do you think?’ She brushed her lips against his. A liquid heat bubbled up within her. ‘But why the pillows?’
‘The hard ground does nothing except give one backache. This is about pleasure rather than discovering muscles you didn’t know you had.’
She mutely nodded. A reminder, if she needed it, that he was used to trysts of this nature whereas she was a mere beginner. Above all things she didn’t want to disappoint him.
‘My ignorance is astonishing.’
‘You are doing fine.’ He kissed her temple. ‘More than fine. Go with your instincts.’
‘I feel awkward,’ she admitted.
‘May I?’ he asked and gently took the hairpins out of her hair, allowing the mass of unruly curls to fall down about her shoulders. ‘I have wanted to see it loose.’
‘I normally wear it in braids because otherwise it goes wild.’ Her voice sounded husky and thick.
‘It is very passionate hair. It has a mind of its own.’ He ran his hands through it, winding it about his hands. ‘So many different colours.’
He pulled her to him and recaptured her mouth. His tongue played with hers, twisting and tangling. The fire in her belly grew more urgent. Her body moved against his, seeking his. She moaned in the back of her throat. Give in to your instinct, he’d said, and her entire being screamed that she wanted to touch his skin. Her fingers worked his neckcloth, revealing the strong column of his throat. She touched her lips to the base of his throat and felt his heart thrumming.
She pushed at his coat, wanting to see more and hoping that he’d understand. He gave a soft laugh and divested himself of his coat, waistcoat, shirt and trousers until he stood before her, naked. His skin gleamed golden in the afternoon light. A sprinkling of dark hair covered his chest with a line leading down to his erection. Firm. Rigid. Visible proof if she needed it that he wanted her. A primitive hunger surged through her.
She reached out and touched his warm chest, felt the nipples pucker beneath her fingertips.
‘Can I see what lies underneath?’ he asked, and at her wordless nod, quickly removed her dress.
She stood before him, dressed only in her stockings, garters and dancing slippers. She stepped out of the shoes and resisted the temptation to cover her nakedness. His appreciative gaze roamed over her. Slowly he reached forwards and undid one garter and then the other. With infinite patience he rolled the stockings down. She sank down to the blanket before her knees gave way. He removed the stockings, rubbing the base of her foot with his knuckle, sending ripples of pleasure cascading through her. Then he positioned himself between her legs, looming over.
He reached out his forefinger and traced a circle around the dusky rose of her nipple. ‘Exquisite.’
Where his finger went, his mouth swiftly followed. He captured one nipple, suckled, released and took the other one in his mouth. Her back arched upwards. She dug her hands into his thick crisp hair, holding him there.
He moved his hands downwards, sliding them over her curves until they reached her nest of curls. There, he slipped a finger into her folds, seeking her innermost centre.
She gasped as his finger found the hardened nub. No one had ever touched her that intimately before. Always she had stayed rigid, afraid to move, but the liquid heat which filled her made that idea impossible. Her back arched upwards, inviting his fingers to probe deeper.
‘Relax,’ he breathed into her ear.
‘I’m trying not to move,’ she cried in desperation. ‘It is the correct way to behave.’
He gave a husky laugh. ‘I want you to move. I want you to enjoy this. Stop thinking. Listen to your body. Touch me. Here.’
She reached out her hand and ran it down the planes of his chest, following the line of hair until she encountered his arousal. Hot. Velvet smooth, but hard. Her hand closed around it as his fingers slid in a figure eight in her folds. Wave after wave of heat washed over her.
‘Lie back. Enjoy.’ His rich voice rippled through her.
Her hands grasped his shoulders, tugging, hoping he’d understand her wordless plea.
Slowly, slowly he wedged her thighs wide. The tip of him nudged her inner core. At her nod he drove himself forwards, impaling her willing flesh.
Her body opened and swallowed the entire length of him.
He lay there, joined and unmoving. He looked down at her and smoothed a tendril of hair from her forehead. He lowered his mouth to hers. His tongue penetrated, demanding a response as it teased and provoked. Her hips began to move, seeking relief from the increasing need that welled up in her. He responded, withdrawing and then driving deeper.
Then the world burst around her and he caught her cries in his mouth.
As she floated back down to earth, she stroked his cheek. ‘Thank you.’
‘My pleasure.’
She moved her hips slightly and felt him respond deep within her. No one had told her that being wicked could feel this good. She wanted it to continue. She wanted to make a memory and keep it with her for ever.
‘Shall we try it again?’ she whispered, ignoring the faint prickle of worry that this could not last.
A cold wet nose snuffled into Kit’s shoulder, waking him from a sound sleep. He started, turned his head and saw Moth’s brown eyes peering at him and Hattie. The summer house had sunk deep into twilight’s shadow. Hattie’s bottom curved into him and her hair spilled out across the both of them. Kit found it difficult to remember the last time he had felt this contented or relaxed.
Normally after a spot of bed-sport, he was full of energy and found the first excuse he could to leave. This time, he’d stayed, fallen asleep and now they had to face the possibility of discovery. And it was his responsibility.
‘Harriet,’ Kit murmured, his breath caressing her ear. The last thing he wanted was her to be startled and scream. ‘Moth’s here.’
Hattie mumbled slightly in her sleep, pushing him away. They had made love twice more after the first time. Her passion and inventiveness had surprised and delighted him. One time was not nearly enough. He wanted to explore her hidden depths. He wanted to catch her cry in his throat as she trembled on the brink of passion. And now she slept.
Moth sat down and gave a sharp bark before licking Kit’s shoulder. There was an urgency to the little dog’s movements.
‘I
