The Ache of Desire

 

It was a lie. Ethan knew very well that the nearest rocks were at least a league away, but Rosalyn didn’t.

“How dare you frighten me so,” she sputtered, and brushed wet hair back from her face.

Ethan grinned. She looked like a wee angry hedgehog. “Come, now, Rosalyn. I only meant to save you from harm. The water isn’t as tame as it looks.” Another lie. Children swam here.

She bobbed in the waves, the moonlight glistening off her pale, wet skin. “How long have you been here?”

The entire time. He’d watched her slip out of her gown and, to his great delight, her shift. He’d eyed her naked breasts with open lust, then feasted his gaze on the triangular patch of hair covering her sex. Even in the cold water, his erection had swelled.

“Shall we swim closer to shore?” he asked.

Concern flashed across her face and she paddled a few strokes away. “You first.”

He spied a large swell rising behind her. It was the perfect opportunity, and he took it. What man wouldn’t? He dove under the water and emerged, just as the wave pushed her forward.

Their bodies collided. He dropped one hand about her waist as the other slid up, over her breast, and for a blissful moment, he cupped the sizeable mound in his palm. The cold water had hardened her nipples to erect peaks. By God, they were the perfect size, the kind he preferred to nip and roll with his tongue, something substantial to hold onto and suck. He couldn’t stop his fingers from sliding open and allowing the hard peak to slip between them to give it a slow tug.

She gasped.

Was it the force of the waves behind her, or her body’s reaction that made her arch into his hand?

The next moment, she twisted like a fish and dove under the waves to emerge a few feet away. Admiration spiked through him. She was an excellent swimmer. Aye, she was both adventurous and athletic, just what he desired in a woman. And her body? It was made for sin. He suspected her passion matched his, as well. He grinned. He would enjoy the slow dance of seduction of discovery.

But now? Suddenly, the ocean itself felt too small. He had to leave before he lost control, plucked her out of the water, and licked every inch of her skin before making slow love to her on the beach.

He stood up to leave. Water rolled down his back.

“Merciful heavens, you’re naked,” she gasped from behind.

Ethan raised a wicked brow. “Come now, lass, it’s not the first time you’ve seen me this way.”

“I beg your pardon?”

He chuckled and walked out of the water. He’d seen the outline of her hips behind the draperies. As a spy in the King’s Service, he’d been trained to note anything out of place. He’d seen his cologne misplaced the moment he’d arrived. There were only two places to hide in his room. He’d have to have been blind to miss those curves.

Let her look at him all she wished, including the state of his arousal. Perhaps he’d wake the passion he knew simmered beneath the surface. He stalked out of the sea, his erection jutting powerfully between his legs.

“I wouldn’t stay much longer, lass, the waves are getting stronger,” he lied again as he continued toward his clothing. “You wouldn’t want to be pulled out to sea, aye?”

He shot her a glance where she stewed in the water a short distance away.

“Turn around.” She sank down to her chin.

“I’ll not look at you. I have troubles of my own.” He yanked up his breeches. They were damn near impossible to pull over his erection.

Behind him, he could hear the sloshing of water as Rosalyn stepped out onto the beach.

“Stay there,” she ordered.

He hadn’t planned to look. It was simply a natural reaction to look up at the sound of her voice.

His heart nearly stopped. She emerged from the water, her breasts swaying in rhythm with her hips, and her thighs parted to reveal the dark patch of curls nestled between them. By God, he needed to take her. She was so deliciously ripe.

“Turn your head, sirrah!” she gasped in a half-pant.

But for all her shock, he was keenly aware she didn’t cover herself. She stood, arms loose at her sides, her breasts glistening in the moonlight, the nipples erect in invitation. Nor did she attempt to close her legs, but remained still, offering him a full view of her sex.

Such a stance was more than telling.

If he’d had any doubt of her passion, it was gone now. His cock clenched. Was she inviting him to make love? Nae. It was likely too quick. He’d be better served to move slowly. With a shuddering breath, he forced his gaze away. A moment more and he just might spill his seed in his breeches.

“It was an innocent error,” he said in his defense.

Rosalyn gave a strangled snort and he waited until the faint rustling of cloth ceased before turning again. She might as well have been naked. The way her gown fell over her hips only made him want to lift it up and kiss what he knew lay beneath. He let his gaze drift over her appreciatively as she twisted her wet hair into a simple knot at her nape.

“If you will excuse me, I’ll be leaving now,” she said, her tone distant once again.

Again, he’d apparently erred, but this time, he wasn’t about to let her leave. He stepped into her path. “Do you—for one foolish second—think I rejected you?” he rasped.

Rosalyn tensed.

“I’m no fool, lass,” he continued gruffly. “You want me as much as I want you.”

Her lips were beyond tempting, so kissable and pouty.

“I…can’t,” she whispered.

“Can’t?” He caught her in his arms and pulled her close. “Or won’t?”

“Shouldn’t,” she replied, her spine ramrod stiff.

He ran the back of his hand slowly over her cheek and queried softly, “Who’s to say, but us?”

“Propriety—” she began, even as she molded herself against him.

She fit so right, like the missing piece of a puzzle.

“Propriety be damned.”

That made her stiffen once again.

He should have known. She’d likely heard such sweet words before. Was that what bothered her? He cursed himself for a fool.

“I want to kiss you,” he whispered. He ran his hands low over her hips and buried his face in her hair. “Just a kiss.” It was a lie. He wanted much, much more, but a kiss would be a start.

As his hands glided, her curves melted into him once again. “No doubt, you think me wanton,” she whispered so softly he barely heard the words.

So that’s what ailed her. He wanted to laugh. “Never.” He slid his palms up her spine, slowly. “There’s nothing bonnier than a lass who knows the pleasure of her body. I would look at you all night, lass.” His shaft throbbed in agreement. “A kiss. That’s all I ask.” She would taste so sweet.

Slowly, she lifted her face to his, and even in the dim moonlight, he saw the inner fire burning there. There was no denying she wanted him. He groaned and cupped the back of her head with his hand, tangling his fingers in her hair as he lowered his lips to hers.

She met him half way.

Their lips touched, tenderly at first. Hers were so incredibly soft, and she tasted far sweeter than he’d imagined. He brushed his mouth over hers, slowly, savoring the velvet of her skin before returning again to suck her lip into his mouth. She opened to him at once, and as his tongue boldly swept inside, she moaned.

The sound made his fist tighten in her hair as even more blood rushed to his shaft, hardening it further. As one kiss melted into another, he began to move. She rolled her hips forward, meeting his soft thrusts. Och, she tasted so sweet. She felt so right, cradled in his arms—familiar, almost as if she’d always been there or always would be. In her, he’d found what he’d sought for so long.

She broke off the kiss and slipped out of his arms.

“Nae.” He reached for her as she fled.

She paused by the hedge and looked back like a frightened deer. The passion still burned, he saw it by the way her breasts heaved. Then she turned and ran for the house.

Ethan exhaled a long breath. Damn it all. He couldn’t care less she wasn’t a virgin. No virgin reacted the way she did. He didn’t care—he liked how she moved, along with the fact she could match the full force of his passion. By God, he needed her. He ached.

He shrugged into his shirt, straightened his collar, and headed for the house.

This night, they’d unleashed something neither could deny. The intense passion lurking in Rosalyn’s kiss promised she would be in his arms again—and soon.

He entered his library and kicked the fire to life. He wouldn’t sleep for quite some time, not with the tightness of his bollocks.

If only he was in London. He’d pay the opera singer a visit. He needed a woman. Badly. He grabbed the brandy from the mantle, unstopped the bottle and drank a mouthful, then settled back in his chair.

A particularly memorable encounter with the opera singer sprang to mind, the night she’d knelt in a private box at the opera and, under the cover of darkness, had taken his length into her moist, hot mouth. He unbuttoned his breeches and freed his cock from its prison. His shaft stood up, painfully hard, as he began reliving the experience. He jerked his fist in a rhythm, but it wasn’t the opera singer who knelt there in his mind’s eye, but a lass with honey-colored eyes and pouty lips. As the rush of seed left his body, he closed his eyes and, in that moment, he knew.

He couldn’t let Rosalyn slip through his fingers. She was far too perfect a match. He would simply have to marry her.

Lord Stafford would surely have agreed.