“You’re killing me,” he whispered. “I’m not going to last. You’ve got to give me relief.” His hips thrust on their own accord now. It was nearly painful. “Please.”
Just as he was about to break free of her grip and take care of himself, she released one arm and slid her hand between them. He pushed himself into her palm and her slender fingers circled. Absolute bliss. One uneven pump of her hand and his hips lifted off the rug. A second, and he was struggling for breath. Two more and the floor fell away. He came, quickly, violently, as he spilled onto his stomach and the front of her dress.
His head lolled against the floor as he closed his eyes, reeling with relief and regret. If he was attempting to cure her touching phobia, he was fairly certain this wasn’t the way to go about it. “Sorry,” he mumbled as she released him. “I’m normally not this eager.”
A rustling movement tore him out of his thoughts. Soft fabric brushed his stomach. Was she cleaning him up? Before he could analyze this too closely, her warm touch disappeared.
He cracked open an eye to see Hadley straddling above him on her knees as the inner lining of her black dress glided over her shoulders. She tossed the dress aside and shook her hair out, breathing hard. Bare arms. Bare thighs, banded by ribbon-adorned black garters. And in the middle, a golden silk step-in chemise—so fine, he could see right through to her nipples and the dark triangle of hair between her thighs.
The chemise’s loose legs were embroidered with a field of alternating lotus flowers and fanning papyrus stalks. And over the tops of her breasts stretched the green and blue winged figure of Maat, Egyptian goddess of balance and truth.
Hadley shyly smiled down at him and he wasn’t entirely convinced he hadn’t died and ascended to some sort of heaven.
• • •
Hadley held her breath as Lowe’s gaze raked over the chemise. It was Madame Dubois’s finest embroidery work, and Hadley had sighed blissfully when she’d picked it up that afternoon. Silly, but she couldn’t curb the careening hope that he’d like it just as much.
“O-oh,” Lowe moaned, rising up on his elbows. Half of her wanted to cover herself up. The other half wanted him to put his hands everywhere his heavy gaze roamed. He pushed himself up until she was forced to sit back on his thighs. “Vacker. So beautiful—my God, Hadley.” His knuckles grazed her clavicle and stroked over the embroidered neck of the chemise, sending goose bumps down her arms. Thick blond eyelashes fanned over blue eyes as he blinked. His voice was low and gravelly. “Can I please touch you now? I need to touch you. I have to touch you.”
“Yes,” she said, gaining confidence. “Definitely yes.”
A heavy arm slung around her waist, and with a grunt, he pushed himself off the floor, hauling her with him as he stood. He set her on wobbly feet. “Steady, now.” Two big hands swiveled her around to face her bed.
“What—” She twisted around to see him ogling the embroidered papyrus fans that curved over her backside.
“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled. His willpower seemed to snap. One moment he was in a daze, and the next, his hands were all over her, sliding beneath the loose legs of her step-in chemise to palm her ass, igniting a thousand sparks across her skin. He kneeled behind her, talking more to himself than her. “These have to go.”
He lifted her foot and unbuckled the T-bar strap of one Mary Jane pump, forcing her to grasp a rail of the metal footboard for balance. The other quickly followed. Warm fingers pushed down her garters before circling her thigh to roll a stocking down. Shocking wet heat followed the stocking’s path down her leg—his mouth on the back of her thigh. Down, down, until he licked the sensitive hollow behind her knee.
The second stocking went twice as fast. He seemed to be racing her quickening pulse. She felt him stand behind her before he tugged golden straps down her arms. Silk whispered across her skin as the chemise fell, puddling at her feet.
She was naked. Utterly, completely naked. Her bare skin on display to his hungry gaze. Never had anyone seen her this exposed—not since the incident. Not even George; their brief encounters had been in the dark, beneath the cover of her skirt.
A powerful shudder went through her.
“Shh,” he whispered. Heavy heat prodded her lower back. Good God! Already? Her mind flashed back to the night they met and the shock of his erection pressing against her on the back of the moving train . . . and the ensuing panic she’d felt at the shocking intimacy.
“It’s only me,” he whispered against her ear. “Just me.”
She stilled, bracing for the inevitable cringe as his arms wound around her. Tonight she was ready to fight that feeling. To count it away, or drown it in liquor again if she had to. But—
But it didn’t come. Not even when he pulled her tight against the solid muscle of his chest, bare skin against skin. Or when his wet mouth opened against the side of her throat.
This time, she didn’t feel the panic that blackened her senses and stole her free will.
This time, she felt . . .
Safe.
Her body sagged in relief.
She spun in his arms as unshed tears stung her eyes. His mouth crushed against hers, and he kissed her like he was bound for the gallows and she was his last hope for salvation. His hands were suddenly everywhere, all at once, a whirlwind of heat and sensation, sending pleasurable chills over her skin. He pushed her back on the mattress a second before he bent his head to her breast. No soft kisses. No teasing. He just sucked her nipple into his mouth and pulled. Lightning shot down her center, electrifying her with an intense bolt of lust.
He released her flesh with a wet pop and moved his attention to her other breast. She cried out and scissored her legs together in an attempt to get relief from the building ache between her thighs. She was embarrassingly wet, wantonly rubbing herself against his erection . . . drowning in want and a startling neediness. She tried to calm herself down, but some animalistic part of her wasn’t willing. Her legs fell apart around his. His long middle finger parted her damp curls. She jerked and writhed against him.
“You’re so wet. Jesus, Hadley.” Wonder coated his words as he whispered, “You want me.”
More than anything. She moaned, half-ashamed as his hand ran through the slickness that coated her inner thighs. Half-amazed, too. She’d never been so aroused. When his thumb circled her clitoris, she felt a tickling warmth as pooling liquid trickled down her flesh.
Lowe groaned, a rich baritone rumble she felt through her bones. She couldn’t stop her plea from jumping overboard. “Please, Lowe. God, now. Please.”
He immediately pulled away. Where was he going?
She lifted her head to see him reaching for his suit jacket that hung on her bedpost. He fumbled for a small tin and flung the quickly discarded lid on her coverlet—where Hadley caught a glimpse of its printed front, a chariot drawn by a pair of racing lions.
Oh.
Interesting. She’d never seen any in person. She wanted to tell him that she’d followed a new method of counting the days in her cycle. That they should be in the clear. Instead, she found herself caught in a fascinated daze as she watched him retrieve a ring of latex and unroll it down his length. Good grief. He could sell tickets to this show—every hot-blooded girl in town would pay to see such a spectacle. If he’d felt impossibly thick and heavy in her hand minutes ago, he looked even more intimidating now. She didn’t know whether to be worried or impressed.