Lady Forsaken Box Set (Books 1 - 5), page 73
Lorelei felt a measure of power.
“I should like to remove your cravat.” She didn’t wait to finish the words before lifting her hands to the task. Gently, she took one corner in her fingers and tugged, but the intricate knot did not give. She stared at it, knowing her forehead bunched pensively.
She’d never undressed a man, and did not foresee a simple cravat to be her undoing.
With more force, she pulled at the cloth, and it at last came loose. She threaded the silk between her fingers, enjoying the smooth caress of the material, much like the way her favorite emerald gown hugged her form—or had hugged her form before she’d had to throw the exquisite dress away to hide the dirt stains and torn pieces from her ladies maid.
Andrew lifted her chin, searching her eyes. “Why do you stop?”
With a faint smile, she pushed all thought of that night in the gardens from her mind, and once again began to pull the cloth from around his collar. Next, she let it drop to the floor between them and moved to his buttons.
“I find this shirt not to my liking.” She made the mistake of looking up at him then, and her fingers stilled. She didn’t know what raw, unabashed desired looked like, but she was positive that was exactly what she saw in Andrew’s eyes. Her fingers fumbled back into action. “I much prefer the touch of skin.”
“I find I do, as well.” Andrew bent slightly and pulled her shift up and over her head, leaving her completely exposed to him, with only her stockings for cover. “Now, if you will finish your task, our skin shall finally meet.”
Lorelei brought her hands back down to his buttons, making fast work removing the garment. The fine material pooled at their feet, joining his neck cloth and her shift.
When her hands came to rest on his solidly muscular chest, she wondered at the warmth she found there. She’d pictured a man’s rock-hard chest to feel cold to the touch, ungiving with no compromise. Yet, she’d been gravely mistaken for over his muscles his skin was smooth and pleasing to her touch.
She only wished she had hours—no, days—to explore his body. She felt certain a lifetime would not be enough.
Alas, she only had this time, this moment, to last for eternity.
Trailing her hands down his chest and over his flat stomach, she reached for the clasp on his belt. Her hands shook as she pulled it loose and dropped it to the floor, adding to the mixed pile of their clothing.
“Let me look at you,” Andrew mumbled, pushing her to arm’s length. His sharp intake of breath told her the fire behind her highlighted her tall frame. “You are heaven sent, my Lorelei.”
She glanced down at herself. The dim light accentuated her curves and didn’t touch the hollows of her body. She feared her body had been marred by her recent pregnancy.
“Come here, I will show you how divine you look.” He spun her away from him and they stepped across the room to a door not far from the fireplace. Andrew reached over her shoulder and pulled the door open, revealing a mirror hung on the inside of the wood, his dressing closet well organized behind it. “Look…”
And she did.
The fire, now at their side, made her hair look ablaze where it framed her face in loose waves down her back. Her slender neck held all the poise and grace of a true lady. And her breasts, still tender, stood high and ample with her darkened nipples hardened in the heat from the fire. Her stomach, while no longer tight and flush with her hips, held a suppleness that was still pleasing to her eyes. Her rounded hips flowed into her legs just as they should with her thighs pressed close. Her stockings covered the shapeliness of her calves and ended in her kid boots.
Her gaze moved back up her body to her face where her expression was one of amazement, her mouth shaped in a round ‘o’ that accentuated her high cheek bones.
“As I said—beautiful.” He swept her hair from her shoulder and trailed kisses over the spot and down her arm.
She was mesmerized by the sight of him worshiping her body. His hands moved down to hold her hips securely against him while his mouth continued to explore, coming to slightly kiss and nip the side of her breast. As if he didn’t trust his mouth to do the job properly, one hand left her hip and came to settle under her other breast, kneading slightly.
The sight was erotic in a way she’d never expected. Watching one’s own seduction in a looking glass.
His hand and mouth released her breasts as he knelt behind her.
Andrew held her steady—facing the mirror—when she made to turn in his direction.
Kissing his way down her back, his hands next came to massage her rounded derriere, moving her fleshy posterior with the incessant pressure of his attentive hands.
With him out of sight, Lorelei could only bring her eyes back to her face in the mirror as she moaned. Her eyes—always a deep green—seemed conflicted, as if adrift in a storm. The last time she’d truly taken measure of herself, she’d seemed hollow, her eyes almost lifeless, but now they sizzled with restrained passion.
She gasped when he started to push her stocking lower on her thigh, his lips following the path of her sheer undergarment.
Her legs buckled when he ran his tongue along the back of her knee, the spot almost as sensitive as the place behind her ear.
“Just wait,” he muttered as he started on the other stocking.
She’d never dreamed that the touch of a man’s mouth—or his fingers—upon her leg could elicit such yearning.
Andrew gently tapped her inner thigh and, as if she knew what came next, she spread her legs slightly and his hand came to rest between them, cupping her core as he placed kiss after kiss upon her hip from his kneeling position behind her.
A sudden warmth between her thighs had her squeezing them together, trapping his hand where it rested.
“Open for me, my sweet Lorelei,” he coaxed her. “Do not be afraid.”
“I am not afraid.” And she wasn’t. If she were unsure about anything, it was how she could ever walk away from this—and him. “Please, do not stop.”
The words came out on a moan when he stopped his delicate kisses.
She parted her legs once more in hopes his fingers would explore the tender area.
To her displeasure, she watched in the mirror as he dropped his hand.
For the first time since she’d stepped into his coach—was it only an hour ago or days?—she felt alone.
Andrew slid across the polished floor to kneel in front of her, instead of behind. In the looking glass, she saw his head of hair, his broad shoulders, and tightly corded back that disappeared into his pants below.
Instinctively, Lorelei brought her hands to his hair and ran her fingers through the silky length, as he leaned forward slightly and continued the course his mouth had started on her back. His lips burned a path from under her breasts, down her stomach. His tongue flicked her navel and then moved lower.
She itched to grasp his face and bring his lips to her own. Yet, her body sensed there was much more pleasure to come before that happened.
“Andrew,” she again pleaded.
He paused long enough to say, “Tell me what you want.”
“I do not know what I want, but I need…” Lorelei’s voice trailed off when the right words escaped her. “I know that I want more.”
He chuckled, though she knew it was not at her inability to find the words or to tease her.
“I will show you what you need.” Sitting back, he took her booted feet in his hands one by one and removed her shoes, then pulled her bunched stocking off, as well. He tossed both stockings and shoes over his shoulder.
Chapter 23
Andrew looked up at Lorelei, her innocence in passion and matters of the flesh belying her very nature. Was it possible that Chastain, the educated seducer, hadn’t applied his many talents to his own wife?
“Yes, show me.” Lorelei closed her eyes, her head tilting back.
She was truly exquisite, every curve of her body from the delicate slope of her clavicle to the arch of her back. She was made for passion.
Made for him.
Andrew returned his attention to her stomach, trailing kisses ever lower until he reached the nest of curls that hid her most sensitive place. With steady fingers, he reached forward to find her core, slick with need. When he touched her, she pushed her hips toward him.
“You know exactly what you want,” he purred. He would have her writhing before he gave her what she wanted. He’d had to move quickly when she’d started to remove his pants, for he knew his will would have given itself to her if the barrier of his clothes hadn’t been there.
“I swear, I do not.” Her hips pushed into his cupped hand.
“Then your body betrays you.” Her body moved a fraction of an inch away from him. “No, never move away from me.”
Finally he stood, towering over her though she stood a head above most women.
“Andrew?” She looked to him, puzzled. “I did not mean to offend—”
“You did not.” He took her hand and walked toward his bed, his boots sounding loud in the quiet room. “But I tire of the hard floor and I am sure you are cold.”
From the flush of her skin, the last thing she felt at the moment was cold.
Lorelei remained silent.
Though she didn’t hesitate, a flicker of fear crossed her face when he stopped her before his bed.
“If you do not want this, I can take you home.” Even though the words came from him, Andrew was far beyond stopping. He would have Lorelei—this very afternoon, and every day that followed.
Thankfully, she shook her head. Pushing to her tiptoes she laid her lips against his; her mouth molded to his perfectly. Andrew parted his, his tongue running across her lower lip. Instinctively, she let him in, deepening the kiss.
It was far more than any kiss they’d shared. Her lips were asking for a promise, and his gave the answer she sought.
He could no longer keep his hands from her.
Andrew grasped her waist and lifted her, her bare feet a few inches off the floor, and set her on the bed.
Taking a step back, Andrew undid the clasp that held his pants. When the flap opened, his member jutted forth. Andrew bent hastily, unlaced his Hessians and pulled them off. Finally, he stepped out of his pants.
He never took his eyes from her as he worked. It wasn’t that he expected her to have a change of heart, but that he’d been forced to be without her for so long he feared she might disappear right before his eyes—and that she would never come back to him.
It might be the desperation in her gaze or the way she reached for him every time he took a step away.
He stood before her, naked and vulnerable to her stare, much as she’d stood before him only moments before.
But unlike him, she kept her eyes focused on his, never straying to take in the sight of his body.
It took everything in him not to give in to her unspoken plea and go to her, show her great pleasure and…love.
The force of the word—only a thought—had him staggering back a step.
It couldn’t be, it was only his obsession getting the best of him once more. She was married to his best friend, had forsaken him for Chastain all those months ago. He hadn’t any claim to her then, and now her heart was still not his for the taking.
Could he change that?
He took in the sight of her, naked before him and spread across his bed, waiting…
Andrew would show her how she should be treated…that she should have chosen him—that there was still time for her to be with him.
“My Lorelei,” he whispered, approaching the bed once more. “I have waited too long for this moment.”
Finally, she looked at his body, her eyes lingering below his waist before snapping to meet his face, embarrassment clouding her expression.
“Do not be ashamed to look.” He set his hands on the bed on either side of her and leaned in close, “—or touch.”
And how he longed for her delicate hands to touch him—run down his chest and sink even lower. Or pull at his hair while her head was thrown back in ecstasy.
Andrew lowered himself onto her, supporting his weight on his elbows, and kissed her. His lips pressed into hers, and within seconds, they melded and moved in unison, his tongue darting to explore her mouth. The very taste of her was almost his undoing. Not to be outdone, Lorelei also sought to explore, not only with her mouth but also her hands, which now grasped his shoulders in a grip he thought was beyond her strength.
When he released her mouth and moved to her earlobe, nipping and then gently suckling, her back arched off the bed. He reluctantly let go of her earlobe and focused his ministrations on her slender neck, directly under her chin.
“Andrew,” she sighed. “I need you.”
“You have me.”
“No. Inside me—I need you there, now.”
Her words were his command. Lifting from her slightly, he looked into her eyes as he situated himself between her legs, his manhood rested against her opening. His skin was now aflame, though he was unsure if it was the heat coming from her center and traveling through him or if he was the source. Either way, he would soon be alight if he weren’t inside her.
“Open for me.” He pushed into her when her legs parted farther. It took all his restraint to hold steady as his size stretched her. He looked between them as he entered her, memorizing this moment. “Are you well?” he asked.
She hadn’t moved beneath him, and he worried he’d hurt her.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I am more than well.”
Andrew took his eyes from their joined bodies to take in her smile. At her reassurance, he thrust the remaining few inches and embedded himself to the hilt. He stilled and waited for her to respond and set their pace.
When she rocked her hips, taking him deeper than he ever imagined possible, he almost lost all control.
“Andrew.”
His restraint snapped and he gave himself up to the passion flowing between them—no reservations, he held back nothing.
Lorelei writhed beneath him each time he withdrew and thrust deep once more, her moans as sweet as the songs of the angels.
Her hips met his every surge, the pace of their joining increased to a frenzied speed.
When Lorelei called out her release, he plunged deeply once more, letting his own seed spill inside her at the same time he kissed her lips.
Lorelei stared at Andrew, who’d slipped into a deep slumber after he’d brought her to completion once more. He slept so soundly she didn’t want to wake him, but she had to leave before any of his household staff knew of her presence, or her own servants questioned her absence. She had much to attend to this night.
Yet, she could not bring herself to crawl from his bed.
Lifting her hand, Lorelei lightly traced his strong jaw to his perfect lips. She took in every aspect of his face and stored it in the special place of her memory reserved for things she’d likely never see again—the place she kept fond memories of her father when he was the doting parent or remembrances of her childhood home in France. Those times had been so sacred to her, just like this time with Andrew, so she did the only thing she could: she learned by heart his face, body, and smell, just as she’d committed to memory the layout of her childhood bedroom, the view out her one window, and the hugs her father had once doled out so generously.
If she slid from the bed and donned her clothes, she could slip from the house before he awoke…and hopefully, be gone from London before he came looking for her. It was the only way to keep him safe, but also protect Peter. It would hurt Andrew to find her gone—just as it would damage her to leave him behind—but those feelings would fade with time. One day he would forgive her many betrayals, though she would not be around to give him answers nor ever forgive herself.
Andrew breathed heavily and threw his arm over her, his fingers resting on her bottom.
Lorelei scooted away from him in the massive bed, his hand falling from her waist until her legs hung over the side of the bed. She stood as soon as her toes hit the cold floor, looking about the room. The only light came from the two open hearths and a single candle outside Andrew’s dressing room.
She darted across the room, careful to keep her weight on the balls of her feet to soften the noise, and took the candle holder in hand. Holding it before her, cautious not to spill the hot wax on her exposed skin, she retraced their steps and collected her clothing: her dress and coat here, her shift there, and heaven only knew where she’d locate her boots and stockings.
A deep rumble came from the bed and the mattress creaked on its ropes.
Lorelei froze, prepared to hear Andrew call her name from the darkness behind her.
Thankfully, he rolled onto his stomach and continued his sated sleep.
Frantically, she searched the floor before the mirror for her boots and stockings. She couldn’t bring herself to look into the glass, recalling what Andrew had done to her there earlier. She felt her cheeks flame with heat at the very thought.
“Where are you?” she said into the quiet room, hoping her belongings would see fit to answer her plea.
To her dismay, they remained silent—and hidden.
They must be close.
Had Andrew inadvertently tossed them into his dressing room? She tried to remember his actions but could only bring to mind the vision of his hands upon her body—and his lips caressing her every curve.
Deciding it was worth a try, she entered his most private space.
She immediately recognized her stocking draped over a long, cylindrical container in the back corner of the closet.
Lorelei rushed farther into the room and grabbed her boots, one lace stocking lay close by. When she pulled at it, the object behind it tipped over and rolled across the floor.
For the second time, Lorelei froze, expecting her name to be called from the other room. Again, luck was on her side.
She leaned down to pick up her lone stocking when the writing on the cylinder caught her eye. Scrawled across the case was the name ‘Chastain.’
