He did not know there were still people around who blushed at such things. With her head lowered, she turned on her heel and cut through the trees to the riverbank.
Oh no, you don’t, my sweet Hannah. In five long strides, he came up behind her and clasped her arm.
She pulled, but his grasp held firm. “Let go of me, you beast!”
“Sweet, sweet Hannah…”
Hannah’s eyes widened. “Do I know you, sir? Please unhand me.” Yanking her arm again, his grip eased but did not fall from her body.
Her heart pounded so hard the beat made her hands shake. How could someone have seen her? Good Lord. This was the man Emma mentioned when Hannah first spied on them. He knew what she watched. Her cheeks grew hotter. She averted her gaze to the riverbed and stepped away from him.
“Not so quickly, sweet.” His hand stroked her arm, and lightning slid through her veins straight to the place between her thighs. Not now, blast you, damn body. She closed her eyes and tried to quell the shiver his caress caused, but failed. His muscles stiffened in return.
“Don’t say you don’t remember me.” The man shook his head at her as she tried once again to yank her arm free.
“Damn you, sir, let go of—”
“I believe I was the first man to ever touch you.”
“P-pardon?”
He inclined his head and raised his eyebrows.
Her mouth dropped open. “Kenny…Kenny Walker?”
He smiled. Then laughed. “Haven’t been called Kenny in ages, but, yes.”
Was this truly him? The young man with whom twelve years ago she had spent her most memorable summer. They had run through the woods, played hide-and-seek, and swum in the lake with her sisters and his brother. Her first infatuation, her first kiss. Good Lord. The young man who by just saying “Hannah” had made her heart pound and heat grace her cheeks with wicked thoughts.
She searched his face. His strong straight nose, angled cheeks, and dimpled chin were the same. His eyes, the same smoky brown that you could get lost in, stared back at her with intense heat. Her body dewed, remembering all that that hungry stare promised.
She studied his body. Oh my! His shoulders had broadened, and his chest, encased in a tight-fitting coat, left little to the imagination. Her breath hitched at sculpted thighs encased in tight buckskin breeches. A lump formed in her throat, and she swallowed hard, envisioning those legs tangled in hers.
A very fit, attractive, and well-muscled man stood before her. God, he was much taller than she remembered. Her memories…oh. Her eyes closed. His fingers as they slid up her skirts and into her wet folds, making her tremble in such a way she thought she would die.
Kenny gently stroked her arm and with his thumb traced circles in the fabric of her sleeve. Her nipples ached, pebbled hard, wanting the circular motion.
His hasty departure from his aunt’s after a summer of friendship and flirtation and his last words “I will bed you one day, dear sweet Hannah” slid through her mind.
She stared at his breeches where his erection bulged. He didn’t even try to conceal his arousal. He journeyed to the summerhouse today to have relations with his friends. He, like her husband, was a rake, with a bad enough reputation that she had heard of his adventures.
A deep rumble of a laugh came from him, and his erection twitched beneath the leather of his pants. Her cheeks grew warm, but she was unable to pull her stare from the bulge. All she wanted was to touch that ridge. God, she was mad.
“Let me tickle you, my sweet,” he said as he slid his finger beneath her chin and raised her eyes.
Eyes blazing with need met hers. Her sex clenched and she groaned. His words, the same he used all those years ago. She bit her lip. Her body knew the promise in those words. But what if she was as bad as her husband claimed? Kenny had been with many women since their encounter…
“Hannah? Please…” His voice, filled with raspy desire, caressed her nerves. She needed to be touched, and who better to touch her than the man who initiated her to the act of coitus?
“Yes, Kenny, touch me. Touch me.”
2
Deeds
Hannah slid her hands under Kenny’s coat as he pulled her to him in an embrace that turned her limbs to pudding. His strong muscled arms squeezed her, burying her face into his waistcoat and crushing his starched white cravat. He smelled the way a man should—clean spice soap, leather and sweat, or arousal. The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and her body trembled. She inhaled again and sighed. It didn’t matter that this was scandalous, she yearned for him to touch her, and he was willing to oblige.
“This way.” He released her from his hold with a groan, laced his gloved fingers with hers, and pulled her along the riverbank. Reaching the grass pasture, he pulled her up the grassy slope without saying a word.
What a striking man. As a boy, he was handsome, but now he possessed the power and presence of his father. Only a powerful man would contemplate slighting him.
Her sister, Louisa, wrote once to say she sighted him at a ball. The gossips were all a-wag about his exploits. Apparently, he was very selective about the women he propositioned, and when he did find a lady he fancied, he would make her an offer of only one night.
His brown hair blew in the slight breeze and stood at awkward angles. Her knees weakened, and she wobbled. He looked like a god, Hercules or some such. A woman would have to be mad not to accept such an offer from him.
A grin crossed her face.
She stared at his bum as he stopped and glanced around. What a beautiful backside. Under the tails of his coat, she could just barely see the rounded flesh. Firm in his breeches with a slight squared edge. In her mind, her hands slid across the smooth hot surface, the tiny down hairs tickling her hands as he slid into her. Oh. Her hands trembled as wetness coated her sex.
He stopped abruptly. “This will have to do, sweet.” Dropping her hand, he shucked off his coat and gloves, then placed them on the grass. He stared at her and smiled; sexual heat radiated from him.
This tall powerful man meant to touch her. She couldn’t believe it. He would touch her in a way no other man had ever come close to. She bit her lip and feared she would never live up to his experience.
His waistcoat landed next to his coat on the grass as smoky eyes slid down her length. Yes, indeed he wanted her. She couldn’t allow herself to disappoint him. Good Lord, please don’t let that happen.
With trembling hands, she unbuttoned and removed her gloves. She needed to feel his hot skin beneath her bare caress.
“Come.” Kenny held out his hand and pulled her to him. His body, so firm and strong, pressed against her soft curves.
Yes, this was happening. She would—
His lips touched hers, feather light. She couldn’t breathe. The warmth settled again and pressed firmly, opening, pushing
