Romancing the Countess (38 page)
Lightning seared the black sky, turning the entire world white. The roar of thunder soon followed. And he kissed her again.
Chapter 23
How I wish that he were yours, that I had met you first . . .
Leah sat on the floor in Sebastian’s bedchamber, toweling her hair dry before the fire. She heard the soft thuds of his footsteps as he walked toward her. He sat behind her, his legs stretching out on either side of hers, and tugged the towel from her hands.
He eased her back against his chest, then wrapped his arms around her, his chin resting on top of her head as they watched the fire burn and let the heat soak into their skin.
Leah relaxed gradually, allowing his strength and warmth to comfort her. Each muscle loosened, from her calves to her shoulders, until she lay against him, boneless. Trusting.
He shifted, trailing the ends of her hair through his fingers. He spoke into her ear, his breath stirring the tension of awareness back into her body. “This is what I’ve wanted for so long,” he murmured. “Just to hold you. To have you trust me.”
Leah tilted her head back until she could meet his eyes, lifted her palm to his jaw. “But I did. It was myself I didn’t trust.”
A glimmer of humor shone in his eyes, and stubble scraped the flesh of her palm as he smiled. “You mean to say that I was too much for you to resist? Is being irresistible another one of my flaws?”
“Yes.” Her own mouth curved, and she twisted until she knelt in the circle of his arms, locking her arms around his neck. “I knew you wouldn’t allow me to do as I wanted, to stay locked away inside myself. I was afraid to touch you, afraid if I gave you any control, there would be nothing left of me.”
His smile faded, his hands gentle, almost tentative as he bracketed her ribs. “And now?”
She sifted her hand through his hair, traced her finger over his forehead, across his brow, down his nose. She parted his mouth with her thumb, and when he sucked on it, biting down softly with his teeth, it wasn’t fear that made her pulse race and the rush of blood pound in her ears. “I’m touching you now,” she whispered, “and I have never felt more powerful.” She leaned forward, brushing her mouth across his cheek, teasing the soft flesh of his earlobe with her lips and teeth. “You give me strength.”
His hands fell away and he leaned back, bracing himself against the floor. “Tell me what I should do, Leah.”
She ran her gaze down his chest, pausing at the skin visible above the edge of his dressing gown. She continued further, past the breadth of his ribs, the flatness of his stomach, the jut of his arousal. Lowering her hands, she knelt back and placed her palms on his ankles, then leisurely swept them up his calves, savoring the crisp texture of his dark hair against her flesh, the warmth of his skin against hers. “Let me give you pleasure,” she said. Pausing, she reached up to her own dressing gown and drew it off her shoulders, baring her breasts. His eyes darkened, his chest rising sharply. “For now,” she added.
Her fingers perched on his knees, then climbed upward, pressing into his flesh, her thumbs skimming the insides of his thighs.
He growled a curse as his hips jerked beneath her touch. Leah smiled and untied the belt of his robe. When he tried to lean forward and nuzzle at her neck, she indulged him, but only for a moment while she pushed the dressing gown off his shoulders. She didn’t know which pleased her more: knowing that Sebastian was now fully naked before her, or the wondrously wicked things he was doing with his lips and tongue at the juncture between her neck and shoulder. Probably both.
She couldn’t resist; she balanced herself against his shoulders as he trailed kisses along her collarbone, into the valley between her breasts.
“This is not me pleasuring you,” she said.
“No?” His lips brushed across the swells of her breasts. “Then I fear I must beg for your forgiveness, for this is what pleases me.”
The control which she’d sought for so long unraveled completely; it was impossible not to give to him, impossible not to take pleasure from his caresses. Selfish and selfless, both strong and vulnerable—there was no room for control when she was in Sebastian’s arms, simply the understanding that she was his and he was hers. There was no loneliness here.
Leah sighed as Sebastian leaned forward to cup her buttocks, moaned as he bent his head to draw her nipple into his mouth—the sounds of her own pleasure almost as arousing as the hot, supple texture of his tongue. She rocked forward, teasing both of them as she pushed against his cock.
“You told me your fantasies, Sebastian,” she murmured, then broke off into a mewling approval as one of the hands cupping her buttocks moved, a long finger inserting itself into her from behind. She arched back, lengthening his stroke, then slid forward again. Sebastian’s mouth turned rough, biting her nipple before soothing it with the flat of his tongue. “However”—she panted around a particularly exquisite thrust of his finger—“I . . . I never had a chance to tell you mine.”
Cool air streamed over her breast as he blew onto her skin, making her ache for the warmth of his mouth again. “Anything, my love.”
“After the house party, when you returned to London and proposed, do you remember that carriage ride we took around the park when I agreed to marry you?”
“Of course.”
Using one hand on his shoulder for balance, Leah slid the other down his chest. She reached between their bodies and folded her fingers around him. Sebastian closed his eyes, his jaw clenching. “I might not have wanted to desire you then, but I did. And I thought about this.”
Holding him tight, she stroked up and down, fascinated by the play of passion across his expression, the way he seemed to be trying to steady his breath by inhaling and then exhaling slowly.
“Let me tell you my fantasy,” she whispered in his ear.
Sebastian groaned at the firm grip of her hand around him. He turned his head, seeking her mouth, only to have her press a quick, hot kiss to his lips.
“In my fantasy,” she said, her voice that of a temptress, “I imagined lifting up my skirts there on the seat beside you in the carriage.” Her thumb slipped over the tip of his staff.
Sebastian arched into her hand. “Leah.”
“I imagined you kneeling before me as I wrapped my legs over your shoulders. And you kissed me . . .” She sighed, her face flushed by her own desires, and Sebastian had never seen anything so arousing. “You kissed me down there.”
Sebastian altered the tempo of his finger, slowing down, circling her clit until he barely touched her. She gave a little cry of despair, and he rewarded her by sinking back into her fully, thrusting hard and deep.
She released him and put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him back until he was no longer sitting, but lying against the rug. “What happened then?” he asked, then gritted his teeth as she moved over him, straddling his waist, positioning him at her entrance.
She bent down and kissed him, teasing him with the slow, seductive pressure of her lips and tongue. “Then, before I could come, you moved up from the floor of the carriage, brought my legs to your waist—”
She captured his gaze as she gripped him again, her eyes half-lidded and hot. Then she sank down, impaling herself on his cock. Only the greatest amount of self-restraint kept Sebastian from coming at that very moment. She was so tight and wet.
“—and then you fucked me.”
She bit her lip and lowered her gaze, almost as if she were uncertain of saying the word. But he wouldn’t let her be ashamed—not here, not with him. Holding her hands, he urged her to use him for balance as he lifted his hips, pushing more deeply inside, experimenting with a rhythm until he found one she seemed to like—a hard, steady pace that had her parting her lips and throwing her head back with abandon. Her breasts bobbed up and down, the hardened tips of her nipples teasing him, causing his body to tighten even further. The pleasure built almost to an unbearable crescendo. Sebastian released her hands and gripped her waist, his anchor as he sent them both spiraling closer to ecstasy.
He groaned when her muscles clenched around him. His fingers dug into her skin. “Did you like it when I fucked you, Leah?”
She opened her eyes and stared down at him. A slow, pleased smile pulled at her lips. “God, yes.”
And then, without looking away, she leaned forward, braced her hands against his chest, and rode him hard and fast until Sebastian could no longer control himself, until pleasure washed over him, pulling him under and constricting every muscle, and he was pouring himself into her, his breath completely stolen away.
When at last he was able to open his eyes and breathe again, Leah held herself above him, her expression a combination of tenderness and smug satisfaction. “I did that to you,” she murmured. “I made you lose control.”
Sebastian lifted his head and kissed her. “Yes, you did,” he said, then withdrew and shifted until she was beneath him on the floor, his hand flat over her belly. “But you didn’t come with me.”
Raising a brow, she covered his hand with hers, then dragged it up until it lay over her breast. “And do you intend to rectify that, my lord?”
“Immediately,” he replied. But instead of caressing her, he dipped his head and kissed her. “Once I hear you say you love me again.”
She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I love you.”
“I didn’t hear you.”
“I love you.”
“Hmm.” He nipped at her bottom lip, lazily circled her nipple with his finger. “Still nothing.”
“Is this your way of torturing me, Sebastian?”
“Perhaps.”
“Very well. I love you. I love you. I love you.”
“Once more,” he said, “though honestly I doubt it will ever be enough.”
“I love y—”
She shuddered as he flicked her nipple, then smoothed over her stomach to stroke her below.
He kissed her nose, her lips, her chin. “Hush, Leah. I love you, too.”
She was quiet for only a moment. “Did I ever mention ‘overbearing’ as one of your flaws?”
He chuckled against her throat.
She moaned as he slipped another finger inside her, then asked, “What is it?”
He kissed her collarbone.
“Sebastian?”
A minute elapsed, maybe more.
“Oh.” She took a deep breath. “You do overbearing very well.”
“Leah?” he murmured against her thigh, then kissed her again.
“Yes?” she asked, her voice quavering on that single syllable.
“Do be quiet.”
She gasped, and he smiled.
“As you wish, my lord.”
Epilogue
I will send you one more letter when I confirm the time, and then we will be together.
London, April 1850
Leah set the teapot down and handed the cup to Lady Elliot, smiling. “I’m glad to hear Lord Elliot is feeling better.”
“Oh yes.” Lady Elliot waved her hand in the air. “He’ll be fine. The viscount has the stamina of a man of twenty, if you take my meaning.”
In the chair to her left, Adelaide choked a little on her tea. Beatrice patted her back as she coughed delicately into a handkerchief. She hadn’t even needed to draw the square of fabric out; it had been laid across her lap, at the ready, as if anticipating another risqué comment from the viscountess.
Lady Elliot glanced at Leah, her brow raised. “Should I apologize?”
Mrs. Meyer gave a deep sigh and settled back against the sofa. “Not every man has the sort of constitution as yours does, Verna. Talk about it often enough, and it will seem like you’re gloating.”
Leah leaned forward and stirred another spoonful of sugar into her own tea. “I wouldn’t say Lord Elliot’s the only one—”
“Leah!” her mother admonished, giving her a pointed look.
“—although perhaps we should turn the conversation, as my sister is unwed.”
“Mr. Grimmons is still besotted.” Adelaide folded the kerchief and tucked it away.
“Mother,” Beatrice warned.
“I’m only saying, although I’m confident I’ve instructed you well enough to catch a husband during the Season, there is always a last resort. I’m certain Mr. Grimmons will be waiting for you when we return to the countryside.”
Leah glanced at the empty chair to her right. Although Miss Pettigrew’s father had allowed her to keep company with Leah once she married Sebastian, the young woman only came to take tea with them from time to time. She claimed that Leah’s mother and Lady Elliot intimidated her, but Leah was more inclined to believe that Miss Pettigrew chose instead to visit her father at the bank in an effort to catch a glimpse of a certain clerk.
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