She actually considered his question, but as the seconds ticked off, she found the pain subsiding into a different sort of ache. “No, don’t stop. What’s next?”
“Next, I do this.” He withdrew almost all the way, then pressed into her again. Sensation jolted through her when his hips met her body.
“That was… Do it again.”
He did. And again and again and again until she lost count. The slide of him in and out of her had become easier, and the friction felt rather magnificent.
“I can’t… You feel too good.” He withdrew and pumped himself. Fluid spurted onto her belly, warm and copious. Breathing hard, he collapsed at her side.
Neither of them moved for a long moment. Victoria touched the cooling fluid. It smelled earthy and foreign. She brought her finger to her lips and tasted him. Salty and primal. She hummed.
Garrick was watching her with hooded eyes. “You’re trying to kill me, aren’t you?”
“I was curious.”
He leaned over her and kissed her. A long, slow, drugging kiss. He broke away only long enough to retrieve a square of rough linen to wipe her belly clean. “I love your curiosity.”
He moved over her again, and for a moment, she thought they were going to do it all over again, but he slid down her body, laying kisses along his path. “I need to apologize though.”
“W-why?” She tried to close her legs, but his broad shoulders were in the way.
He lay a kiss above her mons. “I hurt you, and you did not reach your climax with me.”
“You only hurt me for a moment, and I climaxed before. And last night.” His head dipped, and he flicked his tongue over her still slick folds. She made a sound of surprise when he wiggled his tongue over a sensitive bud. “On the other hand, I shall not complain if you would like to make amends.”
His humming chuckle was nearly her undoing. She spread her legs wider and tilted her hips, all modesty at their position forgotten. He worked the bud with his tongue and lips while he gently stroked her folds.
Her climax hit her fast and hard, and she cried out his name while fisting his hair. Le petit mort. The little death. Except she felt more alive than she ever had. Her limbs were heavy and replete with pleasure. The aftermath was hazy, but she was aware of him kissing his way up her body to reach her mouth. His taste was indescribable, and she realized she was on his tongue and lips.
How could she ever share her bed with another?
Chapter 7
Garrick was in heaven. Or as close to heaven as he was likely to come. The woman of his dreams was naked in his arms. Victoria’s head was cushioned on his shoulder, and her leg was draped over his. Her curls tickled his chin.
His body was still tingling from the aftermath of their lovemaking. He’d never expected the act to be peppered with laughter and soul-exposing kisses and confessions. Had he said too much or not enough? What would happen when they left the cottage?
Stomach-turning worry loosened the grip of his sensual haze. He needed to check on his horse and determine their next steps. Assuming Garrick’s message had reached Sir Hawkins, his mentor would have left word for him through their usual channel.
He’d stayed awake a good part of the night, alert for signs anyone had tracked them, but neither horse nor man had disturbed the falling snow. He sat up and swung his legs out of bed. The banked fire kept the cold at bay, but he flipped the quilt over Victoria to keep her warm.
She ran her hand down his back. A shiver of pleasure cascaded through him, and his semihard cock let its wishes be known. Given very little encouragement, he could take her again.
“You’re beautifully formed, Thomas.”
He smiled over his shoulder. The quilt was wrapped around her torso, leaving her arms and shoulders bare. Her dark curls tumbled over the pillow. Never had he dared to dream he would see her like this. The intimacy took his breath away.
“I could say the same and more about you, love.” Emotion he tried to stifle hoarsened his voice.
The same questions he struggled with reflected back at him in her eyes, but as he had no answers to offer, he rose and pulled on his clothes, turning his attention to the practical matter of staying alive.
“I’m going to check on my horse. The kettle is full of water if you want to warm it to freshen yourself or boil it for tea. There might even be some sugar stashed in the cupboard.” He shot her a glance from the door and ducked into the cold winter world. His horse was content in the lean-to under a woolen blanket. After letting him feed and drink, Garrick saddled him. It was likely to be another long ride.
Garrick walked the perimeter of the meadow, but nothing had disturbed the snow except the light prints of a fox. With an armful of wood, Garrick reentered the cottage, half hoping Victoria was still lounging under the covers naked and would invite him to join her.
She was up and dressed, minus the fastenings she couldn’t reach, and rummaging through the cupboard, muttering to herself. The dark braid of her hair swung over her shoulder, tendrils escaping like curling vines.
“Aha!” She emerged with a swipe of dust along her cheek holding a tin. She checked inside and smiled, her eyes sparkling. “The sugar is a bit clumpy, but clumpy sugar is better than no sugar at all in my estimation.”
She was remarkedly unfazed by their situation and what had transpired the past twelve hours. He cradled the wood, not sure what to do or say in the circumstances. Should he apologize? Assure her they would be fine? She seemed to require neither.
“Whatever is the matter?” Her eyes flared. “Did you see evidence the men followed us?”
“No,” he croaked out. “I fear I’ve taken advantage of you.”
She slammed the sugar tin on the table and propped her hands on her hips. Without the added bulk around her middle, the dress hung loosely. “If you would like to distribute blame, then I must bear the majority. After all, it was my hand in your breeches, was it not?”
“You harbor no regrets?”
Without answering, she took the wood from his arms one log at a time and stacked it by the hearth. Then she stepped into his chest and wrapped her arms around him. “None whatsoever. Do you?”
He lay his cheek on top of her head. “Only as it pertains to the future.”
“Are you worried about what Father will say?”
He jerked back to look her in the eyes. “What he will say? He can never know about our… indiscretion.”
Her eyes turned as hot as the blue part of a flame and singed him. If that wasn’t indication enough that he’d said the wrong thing, her icy tone confirmed his idiocy. “What was I thinking? Of course he will never know about this indiscretion. This was merely a hump. A screw. We swived. It was a way to pass the time that was a bit more satisfying than a game of hazard.”
She dropped to her haunches and stoked the fire with the poker. Sparks erupted and snow sizzled. Steam was rising from the black kettle hanging over the fire.
Part of him wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of her diatribe and ask where she’d learned such words, but her feelings were too raw for teasing. When she rose, he took her arms, but she stared at the middle of his chest. Was she attempting to eviscerate his heart with her gaze?
“Your parents want you to marry a gentleman of means. Someone who can take care of you.”