Touch Me

9

HIS WORDS sucked the oxygen from Genevieve’s lungs. She stared transfixed as Mr. Cooper, with his gaze steady on hers and bubbles foaming around his ribcage, slowly swished his arms through the water. The play of muscles in his powerful shoulders flexed with the movement, lulling her into a trance, rendering her incapable of doing anything save stare. Surely she should say something, demand he stop, but the only words rushing into her throat were Oh, my, you are magnificent. Indeed, she had to press her lips together to prevent herself from saying them out loud.

“You’re right,” he said, his husky voice rippling a heated tremor through her. “It does feel good.”

Oh. Dear. God. She pressed her spine against the rock ledge to hold herself upright lest she slither beneath the surface of the water from a combination of surprise, apprehension and desire so strong it threatened to choke her. She yanked herself from the stupor into which she’d fallen and lifted to chin. “That was merely a statement of fact, Mr. Cooper. Not an invitation.”

“Wasn’t it?” He moved slowly toward her and she shrank farther into the shadows. “I think it was. Because there’s something between us. Something I’ve felt since the first moment I saw you. A desire so strong I can barely think properly.”

His words, which so precisely mirrored her own thoughts just moments ago, halted her breath. All she could think was, Thank God, it’s not just me.

He stopped directly in front of her, then braced his hands on the stone ledge on either side of her, caging her in. Mere inches separated their bodies, a distance that simultaneously felt far too close and not nearly close enough. Genevieve sent up a silent prayer of thanks for the darkness and shadows. Although she tried to arrange her features into a cool mask, she doubted her ability to fully hide her desire for him.

“Can you look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel it, too?” His gaze searched hers. Looking into his compelling eyes she felt as if she were falling into an abyss.

Dear God, how could she deny it? She hadn’t felt need this profound since…she couldn’t recall. Had she ever? Heaven help her, she didn’t know. Yet to admit it would set her on a course she wasn’t prepared to take.

Or was she? It was dark…dark enough to hide her hands, and the water would do the same. He wouldn’t be able to see them, wouldn’t know…and therefore wouldn’t have any reason to reject her.

Did she dare?

Before she could decide, he leaned forward until his lips hovered a mere hairbreadth above hers. His scent surrounded her, a delicious combination of soap, warm skin and a hint of sandalwood.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered. The words resembled a growl and blew warmth across her lips. “Bloody hell, say something. Tell me it’s not just me who feels this.”

A shudder of raw, naked wanting wracked her, shaking her with its intensity, and all the reasons she should push him away faded into oblivion. “It’s not just you,” she whispered back.

“Thank God.” The words sounded like a fervent prayer and in the next instant his arms were around her, hauling her up and against him. His mouth slanted over hers, and, with a moan, Genevieve parted her lips and welcomed the delicious invasion of his tongue. In a heartbeat she was lost, her senses reeling with long-forgotten sensations. He felt so incredibly good. Big and strong, hard and solid. And he tasted so wonderful-like mint with a hint of fine brandy. A groan vibrated in her throat at the erotic friction of his tongue exploring her mouth, of the press of his erection against her belly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and plunged impatient fingers through his thick, silky hair to drag his head closer.

Touch him…she wanted, needed to touch him. Had to touch him. She skimmed her hands across his broad shoulders, then down his smooth back, reveling in the feel of his supple skin and the way his taut muscles jumped beneath her fingertips.

He broke off their frantic kiss and dragged his open mouth down her throat. “So good,” he muttered against her neck as his hands roamed her back. “You feel so damn good.” He touched his tongue to the sensitive skin behind her ear and groaned. “Taste so damn good.”

She would have returned the compliment, but his hands came forward to cup her breasts, evaporating her ability to speak. While his thumbs drew drugging circles around her nipples, he kissed his way along her collarbone and down her chest. Slipping his fingers beneath the straps of her chemise, he pulled the garment down to her waist where the bunched material floated in the gurgling water. She arched her back in a silent plea and gasped when he drew one aroused peak into the heat of his mouth. Her eyes slid closed, her head dropped back, and she fisted her fingers in his hair, urging him to take more of her, drowning in the pleasure of being touched, of touching. Of his mouth and hands on her, of her hands on him.

“Beautiful,” he murmured against her breast, his voice a husky rasp in the darkness. He laved one nipple with a lazy swirl of his tongue while his fingers teased the other. His hand slipped beneath the water, lifted the hem of her chemise, and cupped her bare bottom. “So damn beautiful.”

With his tongue lightly playing with hers and one hand caressing her breasts, his other hand slowly stroked her bottom, his fingers teasing the sensitive nerve endings between her cheeks. Unable to remain still, Genevieve lifted one leg and hooked it high on his hip, a blatant invitation he immediately took advantage of. The first touch of his fingers against her swollen folds dragged a guttural groan from her throat that felt as if it was ripped from her soul. Her head fell limply back and exhaling a long aaaahhhh of delight, she basked in the waves of pleasure washing through her. He slipped first one, then two fingers inside her and slowly pumped, eliciting another moan from her. Desperation seized her and she raised her leg higher, shifting so that his erection nestled directly against her throbbing clitoris. The pressure coiled the knot building inside her tighter and she writhed against him. He answered with a long, slow thrust of his hips that robbed her of the last vestiges of her control. Lifting her head, she fisted her hands in his hair. “More,” she demanded against his mouth in a strained voice she barely recognized. “Please, more. Now.”

He slipped a third finger inside her, deliciously stretching her. With his tongue stroking inside her mouth in unison to his thrusting fingers, her climax thundered through her. With a cry, she ground herself against him, saturated in sensation, adrift in pleasure. When the spasms tapered off to mere ripples, she melted like warmed wax, her rapid, shallow breaths pelting the side of his neck.

Still dazed, she felt his fingers slip from her body and her boneless leg slid from his hip. If not for his strong arm wrapped around her waist she would have slithered beneath the water.

He gently brushed his fingertips across her overheated cheek. “I wish it wasn’t so bloody dark. I want to see you.”

His words snapped her from the sated, languorous stupor into which she’d fallen, reminding her that it was only because of the darkness that this interlude had occurred. Only because of the darkness that she’d allowed herself to…

She squeezed her eyes shut. Dear God, she’d simply come apart in his arms, no inhibitions, no hesitation and utterly no control-indisputable proof of how desperately she missed being touched. If her ten years as Richard’s mistress had taught her anything, it was how to seduce. Yet she’d been seduced by a single sentence. Tell me it’s not just me who feels this. With one caress. By a man she barely knew. A man she’d selfishly taken pleasure from while offering him none-something she’d never done before. Something a mistress would never do.

You’re not a mistress anymore, her inner voice whispered.

No. And she never would be, even if her hands were perfect. No man would ever own her again.

Still, guilt-along with a healthy dose of embarrassment-slapped her for so wantonly grabbing everything he offered, even demanding more, and giving nothing in return. She pulled in a fortifying breath, then lifted her head. In spite of the shadows, there was enough moonlight that she could see his eyes glittering. They appeared to devour her.

“I…I’m sorry, Mr. Cooper. I-”

He touched his fingers against her lips, cutting off her words. “Simon. Surely we’re on a first-name basis now.” There was no missing the hint of amusement in his voice. “Genevieve.”

A tingle ran through her at the intimate timbre in his voice. “Very well, Simon. I’m sorry I was so…carried away.”

“Are you?” He studied her and for a brief instant she wished for a flash of light so she could better see his expression. “You shouldn’t be. I’m certainly not. You were…are…exquisite. Enchanting. Incredible.” He leaned in and lightly scraped his teeth over her earlobe. “And absolutely delicious.”

With her arms still loosely looped around his neck, Genevieve sighed with pleasure and tilted her head to afford him easier access to that neglected bit of skin she’d forgotten was so sensitive. “I’m not sorry for what happened between us-”

“I’m delighted to hear it. The pleasure was all mine.”

“But that’s just my point. And why I’m sorry. The pleasure was all mine.”

His warm lips traveled across her jaw. “I assure you it wasn’t. The pleasure was mutual.”

Genevieve leaned back in the circle of his arms. “It was?” Had she been so lost in her own release that she’d missed his?

He rolled his hips against her and she realized that the bulge pressing against her stomach, while still impressive, had indeed softened. “It was. I’ve been alone for…a while, and well, you are, as I said, exquisite. Hearing, seeing, feeling you climax was an impossible combination to resist.”

There was no denying the feminine satisfaction that rippled through her. “So you decided to join me.”

He huffed out a laugh. “I’m afraid there was nothing I could do to stop it. You are…” His hand came forward to cup her face. “Potent.” Then his teeth flashed white in the darkness. “And besides, my breeches were already wet.”

His smile faded and his expression turned serious. “As much as I wanted to be inside you, it’s perhaps better that I wasn’t. Contrary to my actions this evening, I am a cautious man. I don’t normally allow my passions to rule me, and my mastery over myself is usually much more…”

“Masterful?” she suggested when he seemed at a loss.

“Yes.”

“Then I can only say I am glad you weren’t left unsatisfied and flattered to have undone you so.”

His gaze searched hers and he frowned. “Undone me. Yes, that’s exactly what you did. And without any effort. Rather frightening to think what might happen if you actually put your wealth of feminine wiles into the effort.”

“Frightening isn’t the word I would use. I think fascinating would be a far better description.” Feeling deliciously wicked, she rubbed her breasts against his chest, inwardly smiling at his swift intake of air.

“Indeed,” he murmured, running his hands slowly up and down her bare back. “Especially now that the edge is off my ardor. I’ll last longer next time.”

“Next time? That sounds-”

“Presumptuous?” Before she could tell him that she was going to say lovely, he continued, “Yes, I know.” He settled her more firmly against him. Oh, my. It seemed as if next time could happen very soon indeed. “But I’ve wanted you since the first moment I laid eyes on you. Make no mistake, Genevieve. I want to make love to you. But I have nothing to offer you beyond the fortnight I’ll be in Little Longstone, which is something you must consider.”

His gaze searched hers for several seconds. “Tonight we were both caught up in the moment. As much as I enjoy spontaneity, I don’t act without considering the consequences of my actions. With any affair there can be repercussions. Even with discretion there can be scandal. I’ll be gone, but you’ll remain here and could face censure. And there’s always the possibility of pregnancy. As much as I want you, I don’t want you to make a decision in the heat of the moment that you’ll regret. Think about it. There can be no doubt as to what I want, but it has to be right for you as well.”

Genevieve stilled at the realization he was offering her not only himself, but a choice as well-a choice he wanted her to make with a clear mind. He was concerned enough to consider her position in Little Longstone as well as the possibility of pregnancy. And he was honest enough to let her know that should they enter into a liaison, it would only be of a temporary nature. She was very well aware that many men would neither have been so considerate nor given the situation any thought. They would have simply taken what was offered and damn the consequences, which for him would be minimal, but for her could be very costly.

There was no doubt he wanted her-the irrefutable proof was nestled against her belly. Yet he hadn’t taken her, and God knows he could have-irrefutable proof he was a decent, honorable man. She’d only been with one other man in her life, and although she’d come to love Richard, she’d become his mistress out of necessity. And desperation. Because she hadn’t had a choice, at least not one she was willing to contemplate. Now she had a choice, one she could make without her judgment being clouded by clawing, aching need.

There was a great deal to consider. She’d been able to hide her hands during this brief interlude, but the chances of her being able to do so over a fortnight were slim. Of course, as soon as he saw them, he’d no doubt reject her, which was a pain she didn’t think she could bear. Not again.

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, Simon. And your forbearance. I shall think on the matter.” Indeed, she doubted she’d be able to think of anything else. “But now it’s time for me to return home.” She released him, slipped her hands under the water, then stepped back. His hands fell away from her and she immediately missed the feel of them on her skin. Turning her back to him, she lowered herself in the water up to her neck and quickly slipped her arms back into her chemise. After adjusting the garment, she moved onto the stone seat then stepped from the spring.

Her warm flesh instantly pebbled in the cool air and she reached for her robe, one corner of her mouth lifting at the sight of Beauty curled up next to her clothing. After knotting the sash around her waist, she donned her long cape, her gloves and her boots, and tucked her pistol into her pocket. Feeling far less vulnerable now that her hands were covered, she turned to face him. He’d emerged from the spring as well, and was tugging his jacket into place, watching her through hooded eyes. For several seconds they simply looked at each other and Genevieve experienced a pull of attraction, and something else…something she’d never before experienced. Something that made her want to run to him and bury her face against his broad chest. Breathe him in. Feel his strength. She wanted to hold him, and be held by him. And never let go. She frowned and shook her head to dispel it of the ridiculous notion.

“Are you cold?” he asked, walking toward her.

If only she were. She should be. Instead, heat rippled through her, increasing with every step closer he took. “No.”

He stopped, looking at her as if she were a puzzle he couldn’t solve. Then his gaze flicked to her mouth. Fire kindled in his eyes, and her heart lurched in anticipation. But instead of kissing her, he bent down and scooped up Beauty. The puppy opened one sleepy eye, gave a huge yawn, then snuggled into the curve of Simon’s arm to dream doggie dreams.

Lightly petting the dog’s golden head, Simon said softly, “Earlier, while dashing through the woods after this imp I was tempted to change her name to Evil Lead Chewer. Or Runs Impossibly Fast. Or Pain in the Arse. Now I’m tempted to change her name to Genius. Certainly I owe her the largest beef bone in the kingdom for leading me here.”

“And here you thought she’d be nothing but trouble.”

“Oh, she’s trouble. But it appears I harbor a weakness for trouble.” His gaze skimmed over her. “Among other things. Which means we should leave now. Lest we end up here all night.” He extended his free arm. “Shall we?”

Genevieve tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and they made their way along the path. For several minutes the only sound was that of their footfalls crunching against the fallen leaves. Then for reasons she didn’t quite understand, she found herself admitting, “It’s been a long time since I’ve walked through the woods with a man.”

He turned his head to look at her. “I can only conclude that it’s been your choice to walk alone because you’d have only to snap your fingers to find a dozen suitors knocking on your door.”

Even though he was completely mistaken, warmth flooded Genevieve at the compliment. “Thank you, but you are far overestimating my charms, Simon.”

“I’m not. You are far underestimating them. Have you no mirrors in your home?”

“Yes. And they don’t lie.” They showed her exactly what she was-an aging former mistress with ruined hands. A shell of the woman she once was.

“Then you must require spectacles.”

She was about to assure him she didn’t when he abruptly halted. They’d rounded a corner and her cottage was just ahead.

“Your front door is open,” he said in an undertone, pulling her off the path and behind the trunk of an elm. As Genevieve peered through the darkness, he reached down and pulled a knife from his boot. The silver blade glinted in the moonlight. “Give me your pistol.”

A chill ran through her at his terse whisper and she reached into her pocket. “That won’t be necessary. It’s not just a decoration-I’m very proficient.”

“You’re prepared to shoot someone?”

“If necessary.”

He gave her a quick, appraising glance, then nodded. “Good. Let’s hope you don’t need to. Stay behind me, be prepared to run, and for God’s sake don’t shoot me.”

He set the sleeping dog beneath the tree then crouching low, moved cautiously forward, his gaze scanning. Genevieve kept behind him, heart pounding with a combination of fear and dread. Was it possible Richard had come for the puzzle box? If so, she certainly didn’t want Simon to hurt him, thinking him to be an intruder.

They reached the flagstone steps and approached the door, then stepped into the foyer. And were greeted by the sight of Baxter lying on the parquet floor, a dark trail of what could only be blood marring the side of his face.