Lessons in Indiscretion Page 2

  He could tell, all because of a simple kiss.

  “What did you want to discuss?” he asked once he broke the kiss, sliding his mouth lower to nibble and lick the slim column of her fragrant neck.

  “Uh…” She slid her hands up and down his chest and bent her head to the side to allow him better access.

  “Julia.” He lifted his mouth from her neck and stared into her eyes. Beautiful, dark brown eyes that looked a little stunned, a lot dazed. He touched her, cupped her cheek, stroking her baby-soft skin. “You said you wanted to talk to me.”

  Her lids fluttered when he traced her mouth with the tip of his index finger. Her lips were lush and swollen from their kiss, damp and hot and silky, and he dipped his finger between them. At the wet swipe of her tongue, his cock jerked in reaction.

  Damnable tight trousers, they strangled his cock.

  She tilted her head back, releasing his finger from her mouth, and he dropped his hand. The wind rustled the leaves of the giant tree above them, the gust of air cooling his fiery skin as he studied her. Marveled at the way the moon’s gentle light cast along her cheeks, her long, thick lashes creating shadows on her skin.

  Lovely. She was a dark-haired, dark-eyed angel tempting him to sin. If he had his way, he’d escort her to her town house, where they could be alone. Slowly undress her, kiss her bared skin until she was gloriously naked. He would take his time, for surely that was what she wanted, what she needed.

  She’d mourned her stodgy husband for far too long. She had to be lonely. She needed a right and proper fucking, and he was just the one to deliver it.

  “I…I have a request.” She swallowed and dropped her gaze to his lips, lingering there as if she wanted them back on hers. The urge to kiss her again was extreme, but he held back, eager to hear what she had to say. “I hope you won’t decline.”

  “I doubt I would decline any such request you might make of me, my lady.” Grabbing her hand, he brought it to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of it, dabbed at the fragrant skin with his tongue. Her audible inhalation made him smile.

  “Very well, then.” She cleared her throat and jerked her hand from his grip, stepping away from him as if she needed the distance. “I want to…take a lover.”

  It was his turn to clear his throat. He hadn’t thought she had it in her to verbalize such a request. “Indeed.”

  “Yes.” She nodded, her expression almost defiant. “And I was hoping you would be interested…in being.” She looked at the ground. Her light green dress glowed beneath the light of the moon, appearing almost silvery. She’d never looked more ravishing. “In being my lover. Temporarily, of course. Just until the end of the season. I know you have other interests, other things you should be doing, such as searching for a proper wife. And I know I’m older than you, and you probably don’t find me that attractive, and perhaps you just kissed me due to some odd, impulsive behavior—”

  “Julia?” Her nervous blathering was strangely endearing, and it pained him to interrupt it.

  Her wide eyes beseeched him to continue, and a little gasp escaped her when he stepped forward, gripped her about the arms and yanked her close. “Y-yes?”

  “Shut up,” he murmured just before his mouth descended upon hers.

  He swallowed her words, washed them away with his thrusting tongue. She responded in kind, moving feverishly within his embrace, trembling sighs escaping her with his every deep kiss. Finally he broke away from her, their uneven breaths mingling as they watched each other. She licked at her lips with a murmur of appreciation, and he wondered if she savored the flavor of him as much as he did hers.

  His skin tightened in reaction.

  “Do you have an answer, then? For me?” She licked her lips again, damn her, and a strangled groan lodged in his throat. “As to my earlier question?”

  She wouldn’t offer again. She was too much of a lady to do so. And he’d have to be a fool to turn her down. This was what he wanted. He’d wished for it for months. No way would he refuse.

  “Yes.” He trailed his index finger along the curve of her cheek. “My answer is yes.”

  Chapter Two

  They rode in Bedingfield’s sumptuous carriage back to her town house, an almost deafening silence stretching between them. The interior was warm and cozy, the cushions made of plush crimson velvet, and Julia ran her fingers along the edge of the seat. Her carriage was older, the seat cushions thin, and she couldn’t imagine having such a luxury.

  She also couldn’t think of one thing to say, not one, and she wondered if she was still in shock over his easy agreement at her suggestion. The way he’d kissed her, with his skillful lips and tongue, had made her toes curl. Made her want him to do it again, do more, show her everything he knew about pleasing a lover.

  That he would so readily agree to be her lover was surprising to say the least. They didn’t have much time to indulge. Soon it would be summer, and London would be deserted. Most likely he would return to his family’s country estate and entertain a myriad of guests throughout the hotter months, and she wouldn’t see him. No invitations for a country visit had come her way, much to her disappointment, so she’d stay in the city. Alone and lonely, with nothing to do.

  If an illicit affair with this virile man for even a few days was all she could grab, then she would take it, hold it close and savor the memories once it was over.

  “Your mind,” he murmured, his deep voice washing over her, making her skin hum. Oh, she could drown in the sound of his voice. It rippled and flowed like smooth honey, and she wondered what she might do if he whispered wicked things in her ear with that voice.

  She trembled at the thought.

  “My what?” she asked, realizing he’d said something more, but as wrapped up in her lurid thoughts as she was, she hadn’t heard him.

  “Your mind—you’re thinking too much. Turning this over and over again, questioning whether it’s the right thing to do. Are you doubting your choice, Julia?”

  Her lids lifted, and she met his gaze, caught him studying her unabashedly. He reclined against the tufted velvet bench seat, his legs sprawled, his feet planted on either side of her skirts. He clutched his hands together, interlacing his fingers and resting them on his flat stomach, the epitome of the deceptively lazy man. All the while his gaze roved over her hungrily. Like the predator waiting patiently to lure in his prey.

  She would most gladly allow him to capture her.

  “I’m thinking, yes,” she admitted. Her palms were sweaty, her gloves sticking to her skin, and she fidgeted with the scalloped edge at her wrist. How she wished she could remove the thin barrier.

  His brows rose, his expression urging her to continue, though he didn’t say a word. Glancing down, she plucked at an invisible thread on her pale green skirt, smoothing the silky fabric. It was a lovely gown, if a few seasons old, which meant she was terribly out of fashion.

  “Thinking you’ll send me on my way once we arrive at your home?”

  She shook her head, noted the slight quirk of his decadent lips. Was he waiting for her to challenge him? “No.”

  “Indeed?” he drawled, closing his legs so they brushed her skirts.

  She felt as if he had tried to trap her, and she released a shuddering breath. Could she take this? Was she ready for an affair with him? His innate sensuality overwhelmed her. Just sitting, he exuded a raw carnality she’d never experienced.

  She wanted to experience it. She wanted to know what it was like to be surrounded by him. To feel his hands wander all over her naked body, his touch her between her legs, his mouth sucking on her nipples. The many years of neglect she’d endured from her husband made her yearn for something more. Made her want to be with a man who would devote his full attention to her, who wanted nothing more than to bring her pleasure.

  “I’ve already made up my mind.” Her hazy, unwanted memories spurred her on. She knew what she wanted, and she wasn’t about to turn it away.

  “You have?�
� Again the lazy drawl, the lifted brow. Doubt laced his voice. He didn’t believe her. He thought her a coward, which irritated her almost beyond reason.

  “Do you think I won’t go through with it?”

  “I don’t know, Julia.” His deliberate use of her given name made her flinch. “Will you?”

  “Are you challenging me?”

  “Are you not looking for a challenge?”

  She contemplated him, her frustration growing. She was fired up, ready to prove she was indeed more than willing to take this as far as she wanted.

  “Did your husband satisfy your every wish? Your every need?”

  Julia lifted her chin. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

  “If you want to take me as your lover, I believe it’s every bit my business. Tell me.”

  She turned her face away, embarrassed to discuss such a thing. “He was older and didn’t like to do much of anything. He was tired most of the time.”

  “So he left you unsatisfied.”

  “Sometimes.” All the time.

  “Have you ever experienced a climax before?”

  She swallowed hard. “Of course.”

  “Ah, that’s a relief.” He nodded. “Do you know how to bring yourself pleasure?”

  Her cheeks were so hot she thought they might burst into flame. “I don’t…do that very often.” She lied. She’d touched herself many times between her legs, imagining it was Garrett stroking her rather than her own furtive advances.

  Those furtive moments struggling beneath the bedcovers had resulted in much frustration.

  “A pity.” He smiled. “Can I admit it excites me, the thought of you touching yourself until you climax?”

  She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. Casual as they could be, secretly anticipating the evening ahead. Would he rush her inside and take her straight to her bedchamber? Or perhaps would he seduce her in the sitting room or the hall? Or would he be so eager that he would push her against the door the moment they entered the foyer and take her right there? Where the few servants she had might see them?

  Julia frowned. She was embarking on an affair she might not be ready for. Bedingfield was a known rake. He had vast experience with many women to cull from, whereas she had almost none. Was she confident enough to believe she could please this man? Make him want her, need her, make love to her?

  Maybe she was making a mistake. Bringing a man back into her life, no matter how brief, might not be the best move. It could make things infinitely more complicated. There was something to be said for a simple life. Lonely, yes, but she received some comfort from the familiar.

  The unknown was dangerous. Scary. Risky. The idea of being with Bedingfield was mysterious, alluring, desirable.

  It could be the biggest mistake of her life if she were to refuse him after all.

  She craved a man’s touch. No, she craved this particular man’s touch. How he smiled at her, the banked heat in his eyes, the way he singled her out so she felt like the only woman in the room—it was intoxicating. He spoke to her, asked her questions and listened to her opinions. He laughed and joked with her and made her smile. She’d been attracted to him for so long, she couldn’t imagine being with anyone else. But would she be able to walk away when the brief affair was over and done with?

  And it would be brief. It must be. She couldn’t allow her emotions to become involved.

  It was messy enough as it was.

  “I’ve embarrassed you,” he said softly. “Come here.”

  He extended his hand, and she studied it. As if in a trance, she rested her hand in his and let him pull her to his side. He settled her next to him on the velvet bench, and his body heat warmed her as she pressed against his side. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, leaned in and brushed his face next to hers.

  She closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of his bristly cheek nuzzling against hers. He didn’t push, as if he believed she might scare easily. He trailed his lips down her cheek, along her jaw, dotted up her chin until their mouths met and clung. She opened for him, and his tongue filled her mouth, making her groan.

  He touched her, his hand at her waist, then wandering upward. Slowly his hand glided over her stomach, up her ribs until he cupped her breast, splayed his fingers and kneaded her flesh. She arched into his touch, whimpering, and with his other hand, he caressed her face, trailing his fingers down the length of her neck.

  She was lost. Lost in the way he touched her, his deep, hot kisses, the sound of his rasping breath. The carriage swayed hard, jostling her against him, and he acted quickly. Grabbing her about the waist, he hauled her over to straddle him with her knees on either side of his hips. Her skirts spread about the both of them, covering their lower bodies.

  Placing her hands on his broad shoulders, she stared down at him, surprised at his bold move. She’d never done anything like this before. Her husband had only made love to her in a bed while lying on top of her. This…this was shocking. Exciting.

  Thrilling.

  His hands still around her waist, Garrett brought her down so that their lower bodies brushed against each other. Her drawers were a meager barrier, the fabric thin and open between her legs, and she felt him, felt the unmistakable hard length of him tenting his trousers, and she groaned.

  “Did you ever ride your late husband, my lady?” He tilted his head back, his eyes sparkling as he waited for her response. He tugged her close, and she was aghast at his blatant question.

  Even more aghast at the way she rubbed against him like a cat in heat.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He smiled, and she realized he didn’t do that very often. Especially a smile such as this. He looked particularly boyish.

  Though there was nothing boyish about this man. His hard thighs and the brush of his erection more than proved that.

  “Do you want to ride me?” His voice was a gravelly whisper.

  “Here?” She glanced about the carriage, thinking of the driver just outside, the city all around them.

  “Here.” He trailed his fingers across the square neck of her gown, touching the bare flesh that rose above it, and she released a stuttering breath. “Are you scandalized?”

  “We…we cannot do such a thing like that here.” He curled his fingers beneath the fabric of her bodice and tugged down both her gown and corset. Her breasts tumbled free from their confines, and she gasped.

  Sitting straighter, he slid a hand up her back and rained kisses across her exposed flesh. His hot, damp mouth touched her everywhere except the place where she wanted him most, and it seemed he did it on purpose. Teasing her, tormenting her until she gripped his silky, soft hair and tried to direct him.

  “Bossy,” he murmured before drawing a hard nipple into his mouth. He sucked it deep, swirling his tongue around the turgid flesh, and she cried out when he clamped down and bit it none too gently. “It will take the edge off if we fuck now.”

  She jerked away from him and met his gaze at the first sound of the word. “What do you mean?”

  “Have I offended you? Have you never heard the word before? You’re such an innocent for a married woman.” He cupped the back of her head and brought her down so their mouths met in an ardent kiss. “Fuck is a rather crude way of describing what we’re about to do. Fucking you has been my greatest wish for longer than I care to admit.”

  A shiver moved through her at his succinct explanation. She’d thought herself a good and proper woman, when in truth she was a wanton, excited by his wicked language, excited even more by the prospect of his fucking her in the carriage. She wanted it; she wanted him.

  He held her gaze as he reached beneath her skirts and settled his hot hand upon her thigh. Slowly he slid his hand up, higher and higher, until he stroked his fingers across the crease where her thigh met her hip. He drew one finger along that sensitive, rarely touched spot, making her shiver, and the muscles in her legs tensed.

  “Are you wet, Jul
ia?” The question, so casually asked, shocked her yet again, and she told herself she shouldn’t be surprised. He kept on and on. Pushing her, thrilling her, and she wondered how many women he had been with over the years. How many lovers had he taken to gain so much carnal knowledge? He knew exactly how to excite a woman and drive her to the brink of madness with only a few choice words and soft touches—a skill she couldn’t help but admire.

  And want to experience more of.

  “Touch me and find out,” she answered boldly.

  He chuckled as his hand drifted up between the open slit of her thin drawers, and his fingers tangled in the curling hair just above her mound. Another tease, he toyed with her there for long, agonizing seconds until her hips thrust forward and she whimpered. He drew a single finger along the seam of her sex, fleeting. She clutched his broad shoulders and swallowed. Gently he slipped his finger inside, sliding through the slick wetness that flooded her secret folds, and she closed her eyes. Overwhelmed by her reaction to him.

  “Very wet.” He brushed his finger against the knot of sensitive nerves at the top of her slit. “All for me?”

  She clutched his shoulders harder and drove her hips against his touch. He pushed his finger inside her passage, surging deep, and she groaned as he filled her. “Yes,” she whispered when he started to pump his finger.

  “Very responsive too. Do you like how I touch you?” A second finger joined the first, and he went deeper, brushing his thumb against the tiny knot. Bolts of pleasure surged through her, running rampant in her blood, tingling across her skin. “Does it feel good?”

  Despite her earlier dismay, she loved hearing him talk, the scandalous words he said. Her body responded as if she had no control to his touch, his voice, and already she was close. So close, so easy it would be to fall off that edge and let the waves of pleasure sweep her away. It had been a long time since she’d climaxed, and she wished for it. She strove toward her peak with her every breath, every assured stroke of his fingers until she tumbled headfirst into pure bliss. The waves crashed over her again and again, and she shuddered, her inner walls clamping around his still-thrusting fingers, trying to keep them there as she cried out.