Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

“ L ass.” Jack seemed to need no persuading, because he smiled at her and took her face carefully between his hands. “You know I will do anything and everything within my power to make you happy.”

“You already have.” Gratitude, and something more, made Flora duck her eyes away from his, but her answer was a kiss to the hollow of his throat, where his pulse beat strong and steady beneath her lips.

He drew her mouth back up to his and kissed her—a kiss that soon turned searing enough to chase away the last lingering bittersweetness from the moment. From that point on, she knew nothing of regret and everything of want and need and the desire to learn more. To experience more.

“You’re still in those wet clothes. If you’ll allow me?” He unerringly found the hidden drawstring on the bodice of her gown and tugged it free.

It was as if her skin came alive of its own volition where he touched her. Beneath the layers of her clothing, her breasts seemed to swell and become sensitized to even that fleeting contact. “Yes, certainly,” she managed on nothing more than a whisper.

Jack came around behind her, tucked his chin against her shoulder, and murmured, “This gown, lass,” as he loosened the neckline and brushed the fabric aside, running his hands down her bared shoulders. “Lovely.” His mouth found a spot at the edge of her collarbone, and he pressed a warming kiss there before his teeth nipped gently at the sensitive sinew.

Flora felt her head turn aside as if granting him greater access. He could do whatever he wanted, as long as he did not stop.

His clever hands went to the back laces of her stays.

“Jack.” It was a pleasure to say his name, to reach up and feel the now familiar contours of his face and stroke along the strong line of his jaw.

He turned his face into her hand, rubbing and scuffing his early beard against her palms, letting out a sound of near animal satisfaction in the simple pleasure—a pleasure she wanted, too. His hands on her skin, his lips on her body, his tongue tasting her.

She guided him to her mouth eagerly, pressing into the kiss, hoping he could taste the desire on her lips the same way she could taste it on his. She was hungry for him.

And for no one else.

The bittersweet realization brought a pang of regret—an ache that she knew would grow in his absence—that she instantly banished.

She was with him now.

She would cherish him now.

He must have felt the same sense of urgency—his arms tightened around her, lifting her up and carrying her away to the bed, where they came down together in a lazy tangle of limbs. His leg insinuated itself between hers, riding intimately against her inner thigh. His tongue delved into her mouth while his hands roamed over her back, tugging her stays loose before hugging her close. He hands skimmed over her chemise before they raked through her hair, scattering her pins and cradling her skull so he could hold her still to kiss and kiss again.

“Yes.” She gasped her encouragement. Heat began to pulse through her veins, driving away the last of the winter chill, warming her throughout. She surrendered herself to the comfortable pleasure, losing herself in the welcome force of each new sensation, until she wanted no barriers between them. No pretensions, no false modesty.

She shrugged herself out of her sleeves and tore away the loose stays so she could loosen the tie to her chemise and bare herself to his gaze.

Though her eyes threatened to sweep shut from the sheer tenderness of her emotions, she held them open, taking in the sight of him above her. Touching him, stroking his tanned face and his burnished hair and his strong neck.

But his clothing was barring the way to further access to his glorious person. “Now you."

Flora helped him along, pulling his linen shirttails free of his breeches while he obligingly shucked off his open waistcoat and peeled the linen shirt over his head, exposing his broad, bronzed chest for her. But even as her hands began to skim across the warm expanse of his skin, the weight of his body pressing down upon her just there—where his hips straddled hers—was so pleasing and soothing and exciting that her eyes slid closed just to be able to take in the exquisite pleasure.

Her clever brain was already figuring out how to get more of that pleasure—her hips seemed to rise to snug themselves into the delicious weight of him even as she reached to pull him down to her. She wrapped her arms around his strong shoulders and pulled the press of his body onto her.

“Flora,” he breathed into her ear. “How I have wanted you. How I have dreamed of this moment, with you beside me.”

Flora’s eyelids crashed shut at his tender touch, so sweet and gentle under the brittle armor of his cynicism. There was nothing cynical about him now, as he sent soft, slippery sensations skimming under the surface of her skin, seeping deep into her bones.

She let the divine tension pulse through her, coiling tight in the depths of her belly while he kissed and touched and stroked her way across her willing, welcoming body.

He lifted himself away from her and Flora heard herself moan the loss of him. But it was only for a moment, while he gathered the bunched skirts of her velvet gown and chemise and stripped them away, down the length of her legs.

For the barest moment she felt herself exposed and vulnerable, but even as one of his hands went to the buttons of his breeches, the other found the soft flat of her belly, pressing down ever so slightly with a sort of reassuring promise of different, less soothing pressures to come.

Flora surrendered herself to the exquisite pleasure of watching him look at her breasts, her body. She gave in to the bliss bursting across her skin when he lowered his mouth to take first one breast, and then the other into his mouth, the pull of his lips upon her sending arousal spiraling deep within.

His hand stayed put, his warm palm pressing into her belly, holding her still as he laved and nipped at her, encouraging her back to arch into the pleasure. “Yes,” he urged on a whisper. “Show me what you like. What you need.”

She closed her eyes and followed where her senses led her, stroking his shoulders, marveling at the shape and feel of him, inhaling the clean scent of him, tasting the salty warmth of his skin down the curve of his arm. “I only need you.”

She opened her eyes when he levered himself off her, watching through her lashes as his hands trailed lower, across her belly to the vulnerable skin of her inner thighs, kneading her flesh until she was nothing but want and greedy need.

Flora opened her legs to him, and a soft rush of sensation made her gasp when he trailed the backs of his fingers through the curls at the juncture of her thighs. She felt her body grow taut and hot, as he parted her sex with his thumbs before he slipped his fingers inside her, touching her deeply, stroking powerfully and lightly at the same time.

Her body felt new and alive and warm and satisfied, but still not entirely satisfied at all. Satisfaction was a slippery tension that continued to elude her. The only constant was Jack.

She heard herself sigh at the wonder of it all, of him. At the skill with which he gave her pleasure with his hands and his tongue and his body as he settled his weight into her.

“My divine Flora,” he murmured.

But he was wrong. She was not in the least divine—she was only human, with a human’s need for the comfort of pleasure. With a woman’s need for release. With her own unique need for him.

He eased his fingers from within her and carefully settled himself between her legs, stroking his hands down the naked length of her body until he gripped her gently by the hips. She could feel the sweet length of him pressing against her mound, and she found herself arching up into his warmth, into the reassurance of his body, into the promise of the pleasure.

And then he was pushing into her, filling her with his body and his passion and his desire.

A momentary discomfort came and swiftly went, carried away by the overwhelming feeling of satisfaction.

“Jack.” His name was permission and plea.

“Flora.” Her name sounded like a benediction from his lips. “Tell me you’re fine.”

Even in this moment, at the slippery edge of bliss she could not help but tease him. “Hadn’t you ought to be telling me I’m fine ?” She smiled and pulled his lips to hers for a kiss, too happy not to share her improbable, giddy joy.

“So fine,” he assured her. “So very, very fine. The finest.”

“Jack!” She laughed and somehow it made it better—happiness hummed through her like a drowsy bumble bee, all buzzy expectation.

And when he laughed with her, their shared joy became a physical thing, vibrating through her, heightening the rhythm of his movements as he pressed into her. She felt sated and happy and alive. His lips brushed against her ear, kissing and nipping and soothing as he whispered words of love and encouragement. “Sweet Flora. Yes. Damn my eyes, yes.”

She held him to her with everything she had within her. With strength and determination, as if she could keep him with her always. And in that embrace, he rolled, carrying her atop him, propping her away from him so that she was seated firmly upon his clever, clever cock.

For a moment she could only regret the loss of him—of his warmth and weight—until new sensation began to spiral through her. New pressures that brought new ease, as well as new urgency.

He coaxed her shoulders back, filling his palms with her breasts, tweaking and taunting her nipples, playing her as unerringly as a master. Making every part of her body feel connected to the next and the next until each pleasure coalesced into one single flame of need within.

Until she was the one pressing her weight into him.

Until she had to close her eyes to keep the heat and the light from blinding her.

Until heat blossomed over her like a wave, rippling all the way through her. Over and over and over again until everything within was perfect and exacting bliss.

And then he gripped her hips and surged up into her with a shout of wonder and thanks as he found his own release. “My God, Flora!”

“I’m here,” she whispered as she collapsed down onto the exquisite bed of his chest. “I’m yours.” And he was hers. No matter when he went, no matter how long he was gone, he was hers. He would always be hers now. Nothing could ever take that away.