HE WAS AN IDIOT. CLEARLY, he was allowing his cock to think rather than his brain. Why else would he be walking around Mayne House after two in the morning instead of sleeping in his bed? Why was he risking being seen and ruining not only Lady Philomena but getting himself thrown in prison or worse?
As James pushed open the servants’ door to the family’s floor, he had to admit that Phil was worth any risk. He wanted her, whether it was for a minute, an hour, or a night. And if he were caught and sent to Newgate, then at least he’d be saved from Sean and Patrick. When they found out he had not tipped them off about Lady Philomena’s excursion last night, they would probably kill him and dump his body in the Thames.
He made his way down the corridor, cringing when a floorboard creaked, then paused outside Phil’s door. Now was the moment when he really had to summon his courage. Did he dare use the key?
He thought about her on the other side of the door, her hair spread on a pillow, her soft lips parted in sleep, and his hand moved without permission. He slid the key in the lock, turned it, and pushed the door open.
But when he closed the door behind him and turned to look at the bed, he saw it was empty.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” she said. She was sitting in a chair by the fire, her hair loose as he’d imagined, her legs tucked under her, and wearing a silky white dressing gown, tied at the waist.
“Sure and I didn’t think I would either.” He took a step toward her and she waved at the door.
“Lock it, please.”
He swallowed and did as she asked. When he turned back, she was standing.
“I thought ye’d be sleeping,” he said. Her hair was damp. She’d been sitting by the fire to allow it to dry.
“I never can sleep after an outing. My mind is too busy, and it takes me an hour or so to quiet it. Can I confess something to you?”
“I’m no priest, lass. Far from it.” He didn’t dare move too much closer. He intended to wait for her invitation and to give her time and space to reconsider.
“It’s not that sort of confession.” She took a step closer. “Now that you’re here, I find I’m shaking with nerves.”
“Ye can always say no. Give the word, and I’ll go, I will.”
“Oh, I don’t want you to go, James. You’re not nervous at all, are you?”
“That’s not entirely true. I have me own worries.”
She raised her brows. “You have done this before?”
He smiled. “I have once or twice, yes. But I want ye to enjoy it. I want to make it good for ye.”
“You will, James. I know you will.” Her hand went to the knot of her robe, and she loosened it. Before he could even be certain what she was doing, she opened the robe and slid it off her shoulders so it pooled at her feet.
She wore nothing underneath.
James inhaled sharply, his gaze riveted to her body. “I thought ye were nervous.”
“You made me feel brave again.”
“Ye might have warned me.” He’d planned to go slow and take his time, but it was difficult to think of anything but touching her when she stood before him naked. Her body was even better than he’d imagined—she was tall and curved, rounded in all the right places. He pulled his eyes away from the thatch of golden hair between her legs to her face, but his gaze caught on her breasts. They were full and high, the slope of each ending in a taut nipple.
“James,” she murmured.
He made a sound.
“You’re making me nervous again.”
“Am I?”
“Yes. Will you touch me?”
“I’m half afraid to do that, lass.”
“Then I suppose I’ll have to touch you.” She walked to him, taking her time and giving him ample opportunity to admire the sway of her hips. Then her arms were around him and that supple body pressed to his. She tilted her face up to his and he kissed her. He put his hands on her waist, but the feel of her bare flesh shocked him. He raised his hands higher then lower, and she was so soft and warm and naked everywhere he touched.
Yes, he’d been with women before, but they were hurried couplings in back alleys or against a wall. Good girls who fancied him and who he fancied in return. But no one had the luxury of a room or a bed or time to remove clothing.
“Your hands are warm,” she murmured.
“Yer warm and Christ, so soft. Yer skin is like silk.” One hand slid over her bottom, and she took in a jagged breath.
“Don’t you want to take off your clothes?”
He frowned. That idea had never occurred to him. “Do ye want me to?”
“Of course.” She moved out of his arms and stepped back until she was leaning against the bed. “Do you mind if I watch?”
He took off his coat. “Have ye ever seen a man undressed before?” he asked.
“In paintings,” she admitted as he toed off his shoes.
“What about in the flesh?”
She shook her head. “Is it terrifying?”
He nodded. “Oh, most certainly. Ye might want to turn away.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
He had most of his livery off and untucked his shirt then pulled it over his head. From a few feet away, he heard her murmur, “oh, dear.”
He dropped the shirt on the floor. “Shall I stop now?”
“No. It’s just that your shoulders and your chest—” She made unintelligible gestures with her hands. “You’re quite strong, aren’t you?”
“I suppose.” He reached for the placket of his breeches. “These too?”
“Can I—can I get used to this first?” She indicated his bare torso.
“Ye want to touch me?”
“May I?”
“If I can touch ye back.”
She beckoned him to come closer, and when he was within arms’ reach, she put out a hand and touched his shoulder then slid her fingers over his chest down to his abdomen. His muscles tensed, but he held still. “My turn,” he said.
Her gaze flicked up to his in surprise. He put a hand on her shoulder, then slid it down and over her breast, palming the hard tip. She moaned softly, and he cupped her before tracing a path down her abdomen. Only he didn’t stop at her waist. He went lower, his fingers threading through her hair and dipping between her legs.
“Oh, dear,” she said between pants.
“Ye liked it when I touched ye like this, did ye not?”
“Oh, yes. I liked it. I like it now.”
He smiled. “I can feel that.” His fingers stroked her while he bent his head to take one rosy nipple in his mouth. She bucked against him and arched. It didn’t take much to lower her to the bed and position her in the center. Then he knelt over her, kissing her neck, her breast, her lips. Her hands clutched at his bare back, while his parted the folds of her sex and found that small nub. She moaned when he circled it, and her hips rose in response.
He’d ensure she experienced as much pleasure as he could give now. Later, when he breached her, maybe she’d remember the pleasure more than the pain. His mouth ministered to her other breast then lowered to her belly. She writhed and giggled then whimpered in protest when his hand moved away from her sex to part her legs.