Reason to Wed (The Distinguished Rogues Book 7) (5 page)

He unlatched the door and, still holding her arm tightly, led her up the shallow steps. Inside was black as pitch. He took her with him to the shuttered river-front windows and threw them wide. Moonlight and stars gleamed, lightening the shadowed space into something remarkable. He’d thought this place fascinating as a boy, even more so with a pretty woman on his arm.

His breath caught as he stared down at Esme. Without the scowl, she really was a very beautiful woman. “What do you think?”

Esme paced the chamber, returning to the window to stare out at the fast-moving water sliding past. “Breathtaking. It’s as if no one else exists.” She leaned as far out as she could and sighed.

Fearing
how
far she might lean, and knowing what dangers awaited her immediately below the window, he caught her by the back of her gown and held on tightly. “Be careful.”

She settled back on her heels. “I assume the current is too fast to make swimming pleasant.”

“The rain last week has made that inadvisable for the party but during a dry stretch, it is not so bad a little farther downstream.” He smoothed her gown over her back where he’d gripped her, then spread his hands over her shoulders. She was quite soft, something that hadn’t sprung to mind when they’d argued. He was also startled to feel the beginnings of desire.

For Esme?

Would surprises never cease tonight?

He teased her delicate skin with his thumb and was rewarded with a shudder. Richard had never spent much time alone in Esme’s company and as his cock thickened with arousal, he wondered why. His attraction to her tonight took him by surprise. Tension always built swiftly between them, but this was not the usual prelude to hostilities. The idea of arguing with Esme had been replaced by a much better one.

Anticipation licked along his skin. He inhaled the sent of rosewater that clung to her hair. “Jillian used to swim with us when she was much younger, but prefers to laugh at us when we complain of the cold afterward.”

“I quite agree with her thinking,” Esme murmured. “I don’t much care for the cold myself.”

Richard eased closer a half-step. Esme leaned back into his chest. Cautiously, he slid one arm around her waist. The anticipation of holding her even closer yet caught firmly in his mind. From all he’d heard, all he’d seen of her character, Esme would not play games other than those of the erotic variety. For an affair, Esme would be a wise choice, and she was suddenly without a lover now that Meriwether was promised elsewhere.

He brought his free hand to her neck and stroked the backs of his fingers over her throat.

“Windermere,” Esme whispered in an annoyed tone. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I think I’d like to make love to you, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t think that’s wise,” she warned, but didn’t pull away.

“Don’t make up your mind that you won’t like something until you’ve at least tried it once.” He laughed softly. “Isn’t that what you told Lady Small to do earlier in the night?”

“Listening in?” she complained.

“I agree wholeheartedly.” He’d never so much as kissed Esme before and he was desperate to taste her suddenly. Richard bowed his head slowly and set his lips to her neck. He nibbled her skin as she shuddered. “You don’t have to say anything. Just let it happen.”

Five

Just let it happen.
If all of Esme’s liaisons began this easily, she’d never have reason to be discontent.

Lord Windermere’s breath teased her skin and tempted her to set aside all the reasons why an affair with him wasn’t wise. She did not wish to become another conquest for the earl, but she was still peevish and in need of an outlet for her frustration. Sex had always been her preferred method to rid herself of irritation, and he had offered nicely.

His suggestion too had loosened something reckless inside her that she’d never known existed. A desire to break her own rules grew. To experience something new without forethought or planning had never been her way. But Windermere’s offer did tempt her. She knew him very well. She was aware of his character, his failings and values. Society at large assumed they’d been intimate, but they each knew there had never been any intention of that.

Until now.

He curled his fingers about her waist in a soft caress that left her wanting more. She closed her eyes as he did it again with more conviction.

A shock of want consumed her. She wanted his hands on her skin, his body entwined with hers, the thrill of fulfilled desire soon to follow. Esme had never considered Windermere as a potential lover. An annoyance, certainly. A man with whom to spar when she felt peevish, as she did now; not that she’d ever admit that as the sole reason she’d enjoyed finding fault with him in the past. Yet tonight she was hard-pressed to find a reason to deny him because she wasn’t satisfied yet. He’d been kind and his timing and understanding of her mood had been excellent. Who would have thought he might interpret her needs so well?

Sharing a bed would change things between them.

She would know his taste, the sound of his pleasure. The most intimate of knowledge only possible when a man and a woman had lain together and driven each other wild.

She turned in his arms. An expectant grin twisted his lips, making him appear boyish and even more attractive. Her pulse raced with anticipation as she saw the gleam of hope in his eyes. “This would mean nothing.”

“Of course.” He swooped to kiss her, their first ever, and the initial brush of his lips turned every angry feeling to flames of a far more worthy emotion.

Desire. A hot, living flame consumed her. She kissed him back, holding his head to hers so he couldn’t get away. He stroked his tongue into her mouth, tasting her, and she did the same to him. Esme threaded her fingers through his dark, wavy hair and clenched the locks tightly.

Windermere pressed her against the window frame at her back. His hands framed her face, his thumbs caressing her cheeks as he drove his tongue into her mouth again and again. He drew back and one thumb slipped to the corner of her lips. Esme turned her head and took it into her mouth, sucking hard on his flesh until he moaned.

It had been a long time, perhaps forever, since Esme had ever wanted a man so desperately or so immediately as she did now.

Windermere cupped her breasts and warmth pooled between her legs when he squeezed them with firm pressure. She pulled him back to kiss and boldly stroked her tongue into his mouth to taste him once more. He squeezed her nipple through the gown and that excited her enough to release what was left of her hesitation and chase after what was being offered so boldly.

She stripped off her gloves so she could really feel him.

A ragged groan left Windermere’s throat as she allowed his tongue to invade her again and then she mimicked fucking him with her mouth. He clutched her body to his, holding her head firmly. His aggression and need gave her the thrill of holding power over him. Some men treated her too gently. He did not seem that way. Esme liked a man who was committed to her pleasure in bed, and straightforward about what they wanted in return.

He hoisted her into his arms, leaving her feet barely touching the ground. When he grasped her backside and pressed her against him, she discovered him aroused. Being wanted this desperately was exactly what Esme needed. Lust was always a balm for a wounded pride and she had been feeling sorely disappointed lately. When he lifted his head from the kiss, he was grinning, his eyes alight with mischief.

He propelled them into the shadows and when her legs bumped against something hard and heavy enough not to move, Windermere eased his grip to one of eager exploration. His next kiss gave her no time to reconsider but, given his enthusiasm, she hardly wanted to. He thumbed her nipples, kneaded her breasts as if they were ripe fruit.

She twined her arms about his neck and gave herself up to his desire and control. A little passion couldn’t possibly change things between them in any meaningful way. They’d both had many lovers. She could still find fault with him later and by tomorrow evening, either one of them might have moved on to someone else. She expected nothing more than a little passion from him tonight. There was no reason to expect more.

With one hand cupping her head and the other sliding firmly down her back, Windermere set her body aflame. He drew her against the hard swell of his erection, and ground her against his length.

Windermere pinched her nipple hard through her gown and she gasped in shock and delight. She tightened her grip on his thick hair and made love to his mouth with the intention of never stopping, no matter what he did to the rest of her body.

He broke the kiss suddenly, turned her around, and pressed close against her back. “Can’t think when you do that.”

His hands slid everywhere: over the fabric of her gown to cup her breasts, low to tease her sex with a possessive touch. He bent and caught her skirts, dragging the fabric up her legs with a thick, desperate groan. The warmth of his palms on her inner thighs made her body quake and a ragged gasp escaped her control. He boldly teased her curls, slid his fingers between her lower lips and demanded immediate entry. Esme closed her eyes, astonished by how delightful she found his technique and how willing she was for him. She was filled with impatience, her body restless and hot.

“Esme,” he whispered hoarsely against her neck then nipped her skin. “Touch me.”

She knew what he wanted without having to ask where. Despite the awkwardness of the task, Esme put her hands behind her back, grasped the fastenings of his trousers to release his cock from confinement. She caught his length in one hand, pumping his flesh languidly, and discovered he needed little encouragement to moan. He was thick, hard and long, quite possibly perfectly proportioned though she’d never dare mention that to him.

Windermere fought to bring them closer, shoving her gown up to her waist so they were skin to skin, her flesh pressed to the burning heat of his. He lifted one of her feet to a chair, opening her body. As he pressed his cock inside her, a flicker of astonishment filled Esme at his haste. She ordinarily did not like to rush penetration with a new lover. It was over too quickly, often lacking the passion she craved and a degree of closeness she found necessary to find release.

His initial thrusts were deep and fast but soon slowed. Sliding out until almost leaving her body then back in as deeply as it was possible to be connected to her. He took his time, drawing out their passion so well that Esme was in heaven. She had little to do but accept and encourage. His fingers remained on her clitoris, teasing on and off so she was never too close to the brink of release. She wrapped her hand around his thigh where it pressed hard against hers and kept him close.

Esme curled one arm over her head and tangled her fingers in his hair again. He might be in danger of marking her skin with his kisses and little nips but that only added to her excitement. The chair teetered forward from the force of his movements, so far that Esme feared they’d topple over entirely before he finished with her.

But Windermere never allowed her to fall. He held her so tightly that they barely parted a moment for each thrust. The discovery of his hunger only made her crave his touch more.

She tugged hard on his hair.

Her reward was a deep, dark masculine growl. “Woman, you’re driving me wild.”

Their thighs slapped together loudly as his thrusts quickened. Esme braced herself on the chair, little caring that she was crying out or that Windermere was grunting too. This was exactly what she’d needed—a man to make her forget everything else.

“Come for me,” he demanded as he stilled inside her. “I will wait for you and then withdraw.”

Chills raced over her body at his words. He would withdraw to spare her an unwanted pregnancy, but such an action, one that would curtail his pleasure, wasn’t necessary. She had been with many men and, although some withdrew for the same reason Windermere gave, she had never conceived before. “I am barren, Windermere. There’s no danger of a child.”

Windermere tightened his grip around her hips. He didn’t speak, just held her close as if uncertain whether to believe her or not.

Esme had had a long time to accept her situation. She didn’t need his doubt or his pity, she needed his passion more.

She slipped her fingers beneath his where they’d stilled on her sex and she stoked her clitoris herself. His fingers joined hers soon after, teasing in tandem. Windermere’s hot breath blistered her nape. The sensation of being utterly surrounded by him sped her release. When he rolled his hips, her body clenched around his cock and she thrashed in his arms. As her desire peaked, she shrieked his name, something she rarely did with a lover.

He began thrusting as soon as she quieted. His lips slid away from her neck as he groaned heavily against the top of her spine and spilled his seed deep inside her. He held her tightly against him as he dragged in deep, gasping breaths.

“Dear God,” he whispered hoarsely. “Imagine what we might feel with the comforts of a proper bed around us.”

Content to be held a while, Esme stroked the arm wrapped around her waist and then began to laugh. She’d had no idea his reputation was so well-deserved when it came to desire. Not even the revelation of her barren state had truly distracted him from his passion.