Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

H azel molded to him without protest, completely forgetting the annoyance at having been dragged out of the ocean while completely naked. Things hadn't improved much with the appearance of her chemise. The fabric was thin and wet, nearly transparent. But at present, she had more important things on her mind. August had a way with his mouth and tongue, which, frankly, made it impossible for her to think clearly.

Sitting beside him, trying to hold onto her anger was a futile effort. August, clothed, was a magnificent duke. But with his wet shirt sticking to his arms and chest, outlining every line of sinew, August was beautiful. Hazel kept running her hands up and down his chest, wanting to be trapped beneath all that hardened muscle. Her fingers found the edge of the scar, just beneath his ear. She toyed along the puckered flesh, following it over the wet linen of his shirt where it wound around his throat and down his back.

The reminder of a blade that had almost killed him.

A soft sound came from her, at touching all that ruined flesh.

"The man wielding the sword wasn't overly skilled," August said against her lips. "Fortunately. Now, no more talking, Stork." His hands pushed at the chemise, rough against her skin. Calloused. "I'm not even sure why you bothered to put this on."

"Propriety." Warmth was building inside her, fanning out across her chest.

"I have little, as you may be aware."

August tugged on the strands of her wet hair, taking her mouth and lips in a sensuous dance which forced a slow whimper from Hazel's throat. Hunger, deep and insistent, stung her with every press of his lips. He cupped her breast, teasing at a nipple through the chemise, sending sensation along the edges of her body.

"I find you the most curious creature," he whispered against her lips, pinching at the sensitive bud before rolling it carefully between thumb and forefinger. "So rare in every conceivable way." August's palm cupped her cheek, his eyes resembling the water a short distance away. "That is not meant as a slight, Stork."

"I did not take it as such." How could she while his hands and mouth roamed over her in exploration, as if he sought to know every inch of Hazel Dartmont?

He reached over and took up his coat and her dress, tossing them in the sand. "Come with me." August fell back pulling Hazel with him. "And I mean that in every sense."

Smiling, she straddled him, the chemise riding up, her core pressed to the hard length outlined in his wet clothing.

"If you don't want this, Stork, you should say so now. We can go back to the house." He took a deep breath and wrapped a strand of her hair around one finger. "And I will try not to be…annoyed."

She laughed softly and slid the chemise over one shoulder, the wet muslin slapping against her skin. It clung to the edges of her nipples as she looked at him. "I want this. I want you. As strange as this all is."

"Not strange." A feral look pulled at those chiseled features. "There is a rightness to it. To us."

A small hitch occurred in her heart. "Yes." There was no point in denying this connection to him, no matter how long it might last. She leaned over and brushed her lips against his. Their affair might not survive this house party. Nor a return to London. But he was hers for now.

"Pull it all the way down." His voice was rough with urgency as he tugged on the edge of the chemise. "A complete waste of time for you to put the bloody thing on after I fished you out."

"So you've said."

"I'd already seen you." His hand moved over the curve of her waist, pressing his palm to her stomach as August pulled himself up, leaning on one forearm. "I do see you, Stork." The hand on her mid-section moved to cup Hazel's breast through the damp fabric of the chemise. "Now take this off and let it dry."

"How practical."

"I don't want you to get cold."

"Exceptionally kind." A breath left her as his thumb toyed and teased at her breast.

"You know better than most, Stork. I am rarely kind." He teased at her breast before dipping to suckle her through the wet fabric of the chemise, his mouth heated.

A breathy moan escaped her.

August's palm slid down her body. "If you do not relieve yourself of this garment immediately," his voice was a harsh rasp. "I will rip it off you."

Hands trembling, Hazel lifted the chemise off, tossing it in the direction of the driftwood. She sat naked atop his fully clothed body. "Take your clothes off."

"Still bossy, I see. But I am not in need of instruction, Stork, as your previous lovers may have been." His fingers dipped between her thighs making Hazel gasp and shiver. "I like this version of you, naked atop me." Thumb toying with the small bud hidden in her folds, he watched intently as she wiggled and pressed her hips further into his hand.

"You've made your point," she breathed, wanting more.

"Not yet, I haven't." His hand retreated, and before she could protest, August flipped Hazel to her back atop his coat. Coming to his feet, he regarded her silently as she lay naked before him, until Hazel worried he found her wanting in some respect.

"Do not think it," he whispered, guessing at her thoughts. "You are beautiful."

"I'm not," she said back. Hazel was referred to as pretty, at times. Overly tall. Opinionated. But never beautiful. "There is no need to flatter me, Your Grace. I am already at your mercy."

"You are not less, Hazel Dartmont. And I apologize for that nine-year-old brat who has made you think so for two decades." His words grew thick with regret. "Or anyone else who has given you that impression."

Hazel looked away, fingers digging into the sand. "That isn't?—"

August made a sound of disbelief and pulled off his shirt, effectively ending the discussion. Mainly because she had lost the capacity to speak or even form a sentence.

Muscles bunched along his shoulders and the sculpted lines of his chest. Hipbones stark, edging a flat stomach with a scattering of golden hair leading past his navel. Every inch of him was hard and unyielding. The body of a warrior.

He waggled his brows before giving Hazel a cheeky wink and shucked off his trousers.

"Goodness," she whispered, sitting up on her knees to regard the thick, bobbing cock between his thighs. "No wonder you became a rake." Had she still been a virgin, Hazel might have fainted. She still might.

A laugh bubbled out of him. "Where's your bravery, Stork?"

The word no longer felt like an insult.

"I'll be careful." August went to his knees, then all fours, looming big and predatory over Hazel as his mouth roamed over her skin. He nibbled across her stomach, nipping and sucking, marking her in various places. He parted her sex, exploring and stroking, easing two fingers inside her.

Hazel grabbed at those magnificent shoulders. Her hand moved down his back, tentatively feeling the edges of the scar that had nearly taken his life.

His thumb teased at her flesh, breath warming the side of her breast as he explored, each brush of his fingers stoking the pleasure building inside her. And Hazel gave herself over, licking at his skin and tasting the salt, pushing herself more fully into his hand.

"Stork," August whispered as Hazel writhed before him, heels digging into the sand, her impending climax threatening to undo her. "The things I will do to you, my contrary spinster."

She came apart for him, stuttering and gasping at the touch of his fingers. Crying out his name and terrifying a seagull that had landed beside them.

He kissed her hard, swallowing the rest of her pleasure, as he wedged his big body between her thighs. Removing his hand, August pressed an openmouthed kiss to her stomach, before hooking one of her legs over his shoulder. He thrust into her hard, without warning, forcing all the air from Hazel's lungs.

"All right, Stork?" he brushed her mouth with his lips.

She was no maid and hadn't been for many years. But August was…far more well-endowed than any lover she'd had in the past. Rather daunting. "Yes." Hazel flung her other leg around his waist, digging her heel into his backside.

"Good," he grunted in satisfaction, fingers curling in her hair.

Hazel matched every hard thrust, nails clawing into his back as he took her savagely on the sand. Their joining was not soft or gentle. Nothing at all like the romantic lovemaking written of by every poet. It was far too ferocious.

And perfect.

August laced his fingers with hers, pinning Hazel as she sobbed out his name. The world around them faded away until all she could see was him, her body nothing more than sensation. Pleasure roared through her an instant before August buried his face in her neck. His big body jerked one last time, before he withdrew, spilling himself on his coat.

"Hazel," he murmured along the curve of her ear. "My beautiful Stork."