Touch Me

11

GENEVIEVE paced her bedchamber in Simon’s cottage. A low-burning fire in the hearth warmed the small but comfortable room, and the bed, with its forest-green counterpane and trio of pillows looked cozy and inviting. Baxter was settled in another bedchamber, asleep seconds after his head touched the pillow. Sophia, initially unhappy at the change of environment and completely disdainful of Beauty, now lay curled up in a drowsy ball on the hearthrug, allowing the fire’s warmth to worship her. There wasn’t a single reason for Genevieve not to slip beneath the covers and go to sleep.

No reason except the whirlwind of thoughts spinning through her mind in regard to tonight’s break-in and its ramifications. And in regard to Simon Cooper.

She’d paced the length of the room for the past two hours, trying to make sense of tonight’s events. Yet all her pacing had only resulted in a plethora of unanswered questions. She’d initially considered the break-in to be a further threat against Charles Brightmore, but she’d discarded that idea the instant she’d discovered the alabaster box missing. Richard’s note had stated he would come for the box. Had he visited the cottage tonight-or had he sent someone in his place? But surely Richard wouldn’t have hurt Baxter. Perhaps he hadn’t realized it was him-although who else would her former lover have thought would be in her house? Then again, she hadn’t believed Richard capable of hurting her the way he had, and she’d been proven profoundly wrong about that.

If the intruder was someone acting on Richard’s behalf, that meant Richard hadn’t wanted to see her. Had he suspected she’d intended to confront him, force him to utter the words he’d been too cowardly to say to her face? Or had Richard himself come to her bedchamber under the cover of darkness to regain the puzzle box and the letter hidden inside? Her instincts told her no. Richard had proven himself too weak to do something as violent as strike someone-especially a man who outweighed him by at least five stone. And he’d made it perfectly clear he no longer desired her. Therefore why risk encountering her in her bedchamber? Unless he’d been spying on her and knew she’d left the house.

The questions that had plagued her since she’d received the box once again drifted through her mind. Why had Richard sent it to her? What was the significance of the letter she’d found hidden inside? Richard was a powerful man, a growing force in politics. The letter was obviously very important to him, enough that he’d entrusted it to her for safekeeping. Why?

The more she thought on the matter, the more convinced she was that Richard himself wasn’t the intruder. And that led to the question-was the culprit acting for Richard, or against him? Richard had written that she was the only one he could trust. Were the puzzle box and the letter hidden inside important to someone other than him? Were they important enough that a man would be attacked and her home ransacked? And would the intruder be back when he realized that although he’d stolen the box, he hadn’t found the letter?

She experienced a small thrill of triumph over that, but then quickly sobered. Perhaps it would have been better if the letter had been found. Anger seethed through her that someone had hurt Baxter, had violated her home, her sanctuary and had pawed through her personal possessions. If the letter had been found, then she’d no longer be involved in whatever this madness was and she could simply concentrate on her own life.

Which brought her back to Simon Cooper.

Genevieve paused in her pacing to stare into the flames dancing in the hearth. Dear God, she was consumed with thoughts of him, her body on fire for wanting him. There were reasons why she shouldn’t enter into a liaison with him, but every time her mind listed them, her heart discarded them.

He was a stranger. Who’d proven himself charming, disarming, witty, generous, and brave. He was a hardworking man-not a bored aristocrat. She had secrets she couldn’t share. He hasn’t made any demands or asked you to share anything…except your body. He’d be leaving Little Longstone in two weeks’ time. I’m not looking for a long-term arrangement, so why not enjoy him for the short time he’s here?

Why not, indeed?

In the Ladies’ Guide, she had advised Today’s Modern Woman that the best way to forget one man, to exorcise him from one’s mind, was to have another man. Although truth be known, except for his connection to the puzzle box, she hadn’t spared Richard a single thought since first laying eyes on Simon.

Simon…

She heaved the sort of gushy, feminine sigh she’d believed herself long past releasing. Their interlude in the springs had opened a door she’d firmly slammed when Richard had left her, one she’d not only planned never to open again, but one she’d never dreamed of having the opportunity to open. Of course, as Simon had pointed out, there was the possibility of scandal should anyone discover their affair. But she knew how to be discreet, and given his concern for the matter, she didn’t doubt he did as well. As for pregnancy, she was well-acquainted with the various methods of preventing it. But given her courses were due to begin in only a few days, she wasn’t concerned on that score.

No, her hesitation all boiled down to one thing. She glanced down at her gloves. At the hot spring, she’d been able to submerge her hands in the water, but here there was nowhere to hide. Thanks to her soak in the warm water and a liberal application of her cream, the ache in her joints right now was minimal. Yet by morning she knew the stiffness and swelling would return. Of course, she didn’t have to spend the entire night in his bed…

It would only take a few hours, in the dark, to put out this fire he’d ignited inside her, an inferno that was consuming her. Rather than sating her, her earlier climax had only served to further fuel her hunger. So long as they remained in darkness, she could keep her hands hidden. And they could enjoy each other for the short time he was here. She never thought she’d have the opportunity to be with a man again, never believed that any man would desire her again. The fact that Simon did, and that she wanted him so badly…it was a temptation she simply couldn’t resist.

Thus resolved, she quietly left her room and walked down the corridor, halting in front of the door leading to Simon’s bedchamber. Was he asleep? Or was he, like her, restless and aroused and consumed with desire.

Only one way to find out, her inner voice urged her.

She debated knocking, but instead slowly turned the brass handle. The door silently opened and she slipped inside, closing the oak panel then turning the key in the lock. No fire burned in the grate and the curtains were drawn, cloaking the room in deep shadows. The room was cool from the lack of a fire and smelled of Simon-clean, with a hint of sandalwood.

She hesitated, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. And suddenly she saw him, or rather the shadowy outline of him, rising from a chair set before the empty hearth. With her heart pounding she watched him approach. It was so dark she couldn’t make out his features until he halted directly in front of her. Then she saw the desire in his eyes, felt the heat pumping off him. That warmth, the delicious scent of him all but rendered her woozy with yearning.

“I was hoping you’d come,” he said quietly. “You’re certain?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t. But I have two requests.”

Simon pulled in a slow, unsteady breath. He’d sat in the dark for the last two hours, watching the fire burn to ashes, wanting her, his body aching for her, willing her to come to him, and more afraid than he cared to admit that she wouldn’t. And now here she was. Bloody hell, it was all he could do not to simply jerk her into his arms and drag her to the floor.

“I’ll do everything I can to grant them,” he said. Indeed, he couldn’t imagine denying her anything. “Tell me what you want.”

“Darkness.”

He pushed aside his twinge of disappointment. He wanted, very much to see her every movement, each expression, her gorgeous eyes dilated with passion. “Very well, although I’m sorry not to be able to see you better.” Forcing himself to move slowly, he reached out and untied the ribbon from the bottom of her braid then sifted his fingers through her hair. Soft curls spilled over his wrists, releasing the delicate scent of roses. He wrapped silky strands around his fist then brought them to his face to breathe deeply of their floral fragrance. “What is your second request?”

“Earlier tonight you pleasured me. If you’ll recall from your reading of the Ladies’ Guide, Today’s Modern Woman should strive to return pleasure when pleasure is given. Therefore, I wish to return the favor and pleasure you.”

She settled her hands on his abdomen and he sucked in a quick breath. Even through his linen shirt her touch set his skin ablaze.

“I don’t believe you’ll find that a difficult task.”

“Perhaps not, but you’ll allow me?”

“My darling Genevieve, you have my permission to take any liberties with my body that you so choose. Far be it for me to contradict the desires of Today’s Modern Woman. Especially when they so precisely match my own.”

“Any liberties?”

“Yes.” God, yes.

“Excellent.” Even the darkness couldn’t completely hide the slow smile that curved her lips, speeding up his already pounding heart. She lightly grasped his wrists and settled his hands at his side. “All you need to do is remain still…and enjoy.”

“Enjoying won’t present any problem, but remaining still…” His words tapered off when she began slowly pulling his shirt from his breeches. “That is going to prove a challenge.”

“I thought you harbored a weakness for challenges.”

“I do, however, there are challenges, and then there are-” This time his words ended on a quick intake of breath as her hands slid beneath the linen to lightly stroke his torso.

“There are what?” she murmured, leaning forward to press her lips to his throat.

“There are…” His muscles jumped beneath her fingers.

“Yes?”

He huffed out a laugh. “I’ve no idea. What was the question?”

Her fingers lightly circled the skin just above the waistband of his breeches. “You’re very easily distracted, Simon.”

“No, I’m not. At least, not usually.” Actually, never. She slipped a single fingertip just beneath his waistband and trailed it across his pelvis. “The problem is that you’re, ah, very distracting.”

“How like a man to blame someone else.”

“I’ll accept blame where needed. However, it’s hardly my fault that you’re so incredibly…” He pulled in another quick breath when her fingers coasted over his nipples.

“So incredibly what?”

“Um…distracting. I think. What were we talking about?”

She laughed softly, and slipped her hands from beneath his shirt, which he didn’t like, but it at least restored a bit of his ability to concentrate. “Raise your arms,” she said.

“Clearly Today’s Modern Woman likes to give orders.”

“Yes, we do. Those who obey are rewarded handsomely.”

“And those who don’t?”

She gently bit his earlobe and he could have sworn his eyes glazed over. “Are dealt with very harshly.”

“I’m certain that’s supposed to be meant as some sort of threat, yet you manage to make harshly sound extremely enticing.”

“Good. I want you enticed.”

“Be assured that I am.”

She brushed her pelvis against his erection. “Yes, I can see-and feel-that you are.”

“Entirely your fault, I’m afraid. I’ve been in an almost constant state of arousal since the first time I saw you. It’s become rather a problem.”

“How interesting that where you see a problem, I see only…opportunity. Don’t worry, Simon. I’ve every intention of taking care of that problem for you.”

“I can’t think of a single instance in my entire life when I’ve heard better news.”

“Now raise your arms.”

He obeyed and with a bit of help from him, she pulled his shirt over his head then glided her hands over his chest. “Put your hands behind your back.”

Her sultry tone quickened his pulse and again he obeyed. She bent down then moved to stand behind him. He felt something soft and cool slip over his wrists. Realization hit him and he sucked in a quick breath. “You’re tying me?”

“You did say any liberties, Simon. I thought since you’d mentioned that particular section in the Ladies’ Guide, you’d be intrigued. Are you reneging?”

Her voice was a heated purr next to his ear that shot fiery vibrations to his every cell. He recalled the fantasy she’d inspired the first time he’d seen her, wet and nearly naked in her bedchamber, his imaginings fueled by the words in the Ladies’ Guide.

“Not reneging,” he assured her.

“Good.” She finished with the ribbon and he gave his hands an experimental tug. Snug, but not tight. Certainly escapable for a man of his experience. Yet he had absolutely no desire to free himself.

She moved to stand in front of him. “For someone who spends most of his time sitting behind a desk poring over ledgers, you are very nicely made,” she murmured.

He opened his mouth to reply, but his words turned into a groan when she pressed her lips to the center of his chest then dragged her open mouth to his nipple. “To what do you attribute your excellent fitness?” she asked, interspersing each word with nipping kisses to his chest, all while her hands gently stroked his skin.

“Horses,” he managed to say. “Ride horses.”

Her tongue drew a lazy circle around his nipple. “So you like to ride.”

“Yes. Actually, I used to think it was one of my favorite things-until I felt your, ahhhh, tongue on me.”

“You like my tongue on you?”

“Like is an extremely lukewarm word to describe it.”

“Good. Because I liked your tongue on me.”

“Excellent. In case you harbored any doubts, my tongue can’t wait to be on you again.”

“That’s good to know. And quite obvious.” One hand came forward to stroke the length of his erection.

Simon sucked in a harsh breath, one that locked in his throat when he felt her opening his breeches. Her hands slipped beneath the buckskin and his smalls, slowly dragging both over his hips then down his legs, and he was eternally grateful he’d removed his boots and stockings earlier so few obstacles impeded her disrobing him. He stepped out of the garments and nudged them aside with his bare foot. Then he waited, utterly still, naked except for the satin ribbon binding his hands, and harder than he’d ever been in his entire life. His every muscle tensed in an agony of anticipation.

“Oh, my,” she murmured. “This is indeed a problem. An enormous problem.”

Bloody hell, she had no idea. And if she didn’t touch him soon, he was going to-

The first stroke of her fingers over his erection erased every thought from his mind and he released his pent-up breath on a long hiss of pleasure. She wrapped her fingers around him and gently squeezed and he gritted his teeth against the overwhelming urge to thrust into her hand. “You cannot imagine how good that feels.”

“On the contrary, thanks to the way you touched me at the spring, I know precisely how good it feels.”

She stroked him slowly, her fingers relentless, caressing his length then circling the head. He strained against his bindings, and unable to help himself, he rolled his hips, pressing himself into her palm.

She leaned forward and nipped at his bottom lip. “You’re supposed to remain still.”

He wanted to assure her he was trying, but she robbed him of his ability to speak when she eased one hand between his legs to cup him. With a growl of approval he widened his stance and dropped his head back. And tried his damnedest not to move.

Bloody hell, her hands were pure magic, conjuring sensations that threatened to bring him to his knees. Just when he thought he couldn’t take another stroke, she released him and trailed her fingers over his abdomen.

He dragged in a shuddering breath and fought for control. “I’m a heartbeat away from unraveling.”

Her finger slowly circled his navel. “Somehow that doesn’t sound like a complaint.”

“It’s not. It’s a promise-for retribution.”

“You mean like an eye for an eye?”

“No. I mean a stroke for a stroke. A caress for a caress. A kiss for a kiss. A lick for a lick.”

“So you intend to give as good as you get?”

“The instant you untie me and release me from my promise to remain still.”

She wrapped her fingers around him again and lightly stroked. “You’re doing extremely well at remaining immobile.”

“Ahhhhh…the effort is costing me, believe me. I’m not certain how much more I can take.”

“Let’s find out.” With that, she leaned in and slowly kissed her way down his torso. Her warm breath tickled his skin, igniting fires, while her fingers lightly caressed his spine. She moved lower, her lips and tongue drifting over him, exploring his navel, then lower, touching him everywhere except where he most wanted. By the time she dropped to her knees, his breathing had turned into a series of ragged pants and his fingers were numb from clenching them so tightly.

He felt her touch a single fingertip to the head of his jutting cock. “You’re wet,” she whispered, spreading the moisture with a lazy circular motion.

He cleared his throat to locate his voice. “It’s only by sheer will that I’m not wetter-”

His words were chopped off when she leaned forward and treated the length of his erection to a long, slow lick. Simon’s jaw clenched and he fought for control as she grasped his shaft and teased the sensitive head with swirling strokes of her tongue.

“You’re driving me…ahhhh…mad,” he managed to utter in a hoarse voice.

“Mad in a good way, I hope.”

“Again, good is a very lukewarm description.”

“Then let’s try for incredible,” she whispered and drew him deep into her mouth.

Tight wet heat surrounded him, ripping a growl from his throat. Inwardly cursing the darkness that obscured his view, he closed his eyes and imagined the sight of her plump lips surrounding him, moving over him. White-hot pleasure sliced through him, every sensation somehow rendered even more intense by the fact that he couldn’t touch her in return. Her tongue circled him, shooting fire through him, gathering heat in the base of his spine. The combination of her swirling tongue, her mouth milking him, and her fingers fondling and stroking between his legs and over his buttocks quickly propelled him to the edge and all too soon he teetered on the brink of release.

Her lips tightened around him, drawing on him so tightly he swore he was going to implode.

“No more,” he said, his voice sounding as if he’d swallowed gravel. “Can’t take anymore.” With a hard jerk and twist of his wrists he broke free of his satin restraints. Grasping her shoulders he gently pushed her back until she released him. He was a single touch away from coming, and he wanted to be inside her, feel her body clamped around him when he climaxed.

He urged her to her feet, lifted her night rail over her head and tossed the garment aside. Again cursing the darkness that hid her from him, he skimmed his hands over her warm, soft flesh and discovered she wore nothing else save skin. His hands, normally so steady, felt decidedly shaky, certainly too much so to contend with tiny buttons and layers of clothing. Bending his knees, he scooped her up and strode to the bed.

“I wasn’t quite finished pleasuring you,” she murmured, lightly biting his neck.

“If I were any more pleasured, I’d be finished. So now it’s your turn. Turnabout is only fair.” He set her on the edge of the bed then knelt on the floor, his shoulders splaying her thighs wide. Her scent, an intoxicating combination of roses and female musk hit him like a shot of straight brandy to an empty stomach. He ran one hand up her body, easing her onto her back then reached out to trail a single fingertip along the seam of her sex, eliciting a groan from both of them. Bloody hell, she was drenched. “Seems I’m not the only one who’s wet,” he said, teasing her with a light, circular motion.

“Since the moment I first saw you,” she whispered. “And as a Modern Woman I insist you do something about it. Immediately.”

He slipped two fingers inside her tight heat. “You, my dear, are extremely demanding.”

She writhed against his hand and groaned. “Yes, I am. Do you truly wish to complain about that?”

“Absolutely not. As far as I’m concerned, naked, wet and demanding is the perfect combination of traits. Long live Today’s Modern Woman. And retribution.”

He eased his fingers from her and a dark smile curved his lips at her mewl of protest, a sound that turned into a gasp when he slid his hands beneath her bottom, set her thighs over his shoulders and lifted her to his mouth.

His lips, tongue and fingers teased her folds, swirling, tasting, nibbling, licking, delving while he absorbed her moans, relentlessly coaxing her toward release, determined to give her as much pleasure as she’d given him. When she climaxed, she arched her back and cried out his name in a hoarse voice that echoed through him.

The instant her spasms tapered off, he rose and lifted her, settling her head on his pillow. Unable to wait another instant, he covered her body with his and entered her with one smooth thrust. Her slick walls held him like a velvet fist and for several seconds he remained still, his eyes shut, absorbing the incredible feel of her.

“Tight,” he murmured against her mouth. He withdrew nearly all the way out of her body then slowly sank deep again. “Wet. Soft. Hot.” Withdrawal and another slow, deep plunge. “You feel so damn good.”

She released a long, guttural moan and wrapped her legs around his waist. “More,” she whispered, clutching his shoulders. “More.”

That impatient, husky demand incinerated whatever remnants of control Simon had managed to hold on to. He increased the tempo and force of his thrusts. Mindless, gritting his teeth against the white-hot pleasure, he sank into her again and again, lost in a dark, fiery abyss where nothing existed except her. The instant she arched beneath him he let himself go, thrusting deep, her silky sheath convulsing around him as shudders wracked him. When the spasms subsided, he buried his face in the fragrant curve where her neck and shoulder met and fought to catch his breath.

Bloody hell, how was it possible to feel so completely wrung out, yet so…reborn? Better than reborn. He felt…new. Like tarnished silver that had been polished after decades of neglect. He’d enjoyed his fair share of lovers in the past, experienced women who knew how to please a man and receive pleasure in return. But something about this woman left him satisfied in a way he’d never felt before.

When his breathing had calmed to something close to normal, he lifted his head. He immediately sensed how still she’d gone and he once again cursed the darkness that kept him from seeing her clearly. While he’d been taking his time catching his breath, he’d no doubt been squashing her. He made to roll off her, but she tightened her arms and legs around him.

“Don’t go,” she whispered. “The way you feel on top of me, inside of me…I’m not ready for it to end.”

Heaven help him, neither was he. He brushed his fingers over her cheek, freezing when he felt the wetness on her soft skin. “Are you crying?” When she didn’t answer, his fingertips explored further and his heart squeezed. “You are crying. Damn it, did I hurt you?”

She shook her head. “No.” She trailed her fingers over his features, as if trying to memorize them in the dark. “I’m just…overwhelmed. I…never expected to feel that way again. Never expected to experience passion again.” She turned her head and kissed his palm, a tender gesture that seemed to yank his heart from its moorings. “Thank you, Simon.”

His throat tightened at the emotion in her voice. “Genevieve.” Bloody hell, just saying her name pleased him. He leaned forward and touched his forehead to hers. “I am the one who should be thanking you.”

For several seconds she said nothing. He listened to her pull in a several deep breaths, her warm exhalations caressing his lips. Then he felt her lips curve against his palm. “I must say, your idea of retribution gives an entirely new meaning to the phrase revenge is sweet.”

“Indeed it is. And I’m delighted you think so, since I’m not nearly finished with my retribution.”

“Oh, my. But surely you realize that will only lead to me enacting retribution of my own.”

“Yes, that did occur to me.” He heaved a dramatic sigh and nuzzled her fragrant neck. “I’ll endeavor to endure whatever repayment you deem appropriate.”

“As I recall, your method involves a kiss for a kiss.”

“Yes. And a touch for a touch-”

“And a lick for a lick?”

“Precisely. And then there is the small matter of the satin ribbons to bind the wrists.”

She heaved a dramatic sigh. “And if I refuse to give in to such treacherous demands?”

“I’ll simply have to find a way to bring you around to my point of view.”

“Hmm…I suspect that won’t be overly difficult. I have a terrible weakness for kisses.”

He ran his tongue over her plump bottom lip. “And licking?”

“A very terrible weakness.”

“As I said, I’ll try not to complain and take it like a man.” Yet as he settled his mouth over hers, Simon was hit by the unsettling realization that he had a very terrible weakness of his own. And she was named Genevieve Ralston.