Chapter 22

I n Clarissa’s defense, what choice did she have?

The only plausible excuse for her and Rupert to be alone in the library at midnight was that they were having a romantic rendezvous.

Kissing him made sense . She was doing it for the mission .

And, oh, all right—she did want to kiss him! As incomprehensible as it would have seemed two weeks ago, she quite liked Rupert Dupree. She liked him, and she had certainly liked the way he kissed her under the mistletoe. If she was being honest, she had been hoping she might have the chance to do it again.

So, when the opportunity presented itself, of course, she had seized it with both hands.

Considering her first kiss had occurred just that afternoon and had been a chaste affair at that, Clarissa was excruciatingly self-conscious about whether she was doing this right. Her sister, Eleanor, and her brother-in-law, Jasper, seemed to spend an unusual amount of time kissing, and Clarissa had walked in on them enough times that she knew she was supposed to use her tongue. Tentatively, she opened her mouth and ran her tongue across Rupert’s bottom lip.

He groaned against her mouth, threading his hands into her hair. He certainly didn’t seem to mind her clumsy efforts, so Clarissa tried again, this time stroking her tongue across his top lip. His whole body started shaking, which seemed like a good sign.

She was summoning her courage to do it again when she heard the door give way, followed by the soft sound of footsteps on the library’s plush carpet.

They were about to be discovered, and here she was, worrying about whether Rupert thought she was good at kissing! Although… they needed to make it look convincing, and Rupert had gone stiff as a board. So, she ran her hands down his back, all the way to the area she had been covertly admiring for the last two weeks.

She filled her palms with the glorious curves of his buttocks. And then, she squeezed .

He was everything Clarissa had dreamed he would be. Taut. Warm. Neither too plump nor too scrawny. Perfect beneath her hands.

Speaking of things that were taut, a rather prominent bulge in the front of Rupert’s trousers was pressing against her hip. She felt inordinately pleased that he was just as affected by her as she was by him.

Rupert was gasping for breath. “ Claire ! Dear God , I—”

She grabbed his head with both hands and pulled his lips down to hers. He made a strangled sound, but it wasn’t of protest.

Clarissa listened with half an ear as the footsteps on the carpet paused, then slowly retreated toward the door. At least, she thought they were retreating toward the door. It was hard to concentrate as Rupert was now kissing her in earnest.

He sucked her bottom lip into his mouth, then took advantage of her gasp, swooping his tongue inside her mouth. Clarissa understood in an instant why women were so desperate to lure this man into their beds. If he could make her head swim and her pulse throb with just a kiss, she trembled to think how much he could make her feel with more than a kiss. It was a good thing she was already lying down because otherwise, she would have melted into a puddle right there on the carpet.

There was a muffled thump as the uninvited visitor pulled the sticky door shut behind them.

Breathing hard, Rupert lifted his head and scanned the room. “It’s all right. Whoever that was, they’re gone.” He gave a nervous laugh. “I see what you did there. That was clever. Very clever.” He raked a shaking hand through his golden hair. “I’m sure you’ll be wanting me to get off—”

He grunted in surprise as Clarissa pulled him back down on top of her.

He landed with his face in the couch cushions, meaning all Clarissa had access to was his ear. Some mad impulse had her wrapping her lips around its lobe and gently biting down. She was rewarded with a shudder that went through his entire body where it rested atop hers. She had never been in anything resembling an intimate embrace with a man before. She would’ve thought his weight would be too much, but it felt delicious having Rupert on top of her.

He groaned. “Claire, what are you doing? You hate me, remember?”

She flicked her tongue over a spot below his ear and was rewarded with another shudder. “I don’t hate you.”

He lifted his head, and his expression was adorably befuddled. “I’m fairly certain that you do.”

She brushed a kiss across his lips. “I was mistaken. You, Rupert Dupree, are not at all what I was expecting.”

He went still, with one hand coming up to frame her face. There was a poignant quality to his expression that made her chest feel tight. “And you, Clarissa Weatherby, are exactly what I was expecting.”

Clarissa didn’t have much time to parse that, because Rupert began kissing her again. They were the sort of hot, open-mouthed kisses that made her head loll back and her thighs fall open. He settled between them eagerly, the bulge tenting the falls of his trousers perfectly aligned with her core. Clarissa wasn’t sure why, but it made her want to squirm.

He started pressing hot kisses down her neck. His hands were a heady combination of eager and reverent as he traced the outline of her body through her dressing gown. Clarissa gasped in his mouth as he brushed her nipple, and when his hands went to the ties of her wrapper, she didn’t even think of stopping him.

Her own trembling fingers were struggling with the buttons of his coat, opening it up and peeling it off his shoulders, all while never breaking contact with his mouth. As soon as his arms sprang free, she hurled the coat over the back of the sofa and began yanking at his cravat.

Rupert already had Clarissa out of her dressing gown. He leaned back and made an appreciative sound at the sight of her in her snow-white night rail. It was flannel, not translucent linen, in a nod to the chilly December weather. But judging by the way Rupert was looking at her, you would’ve thought it was a seductive scrap of silk.

Clarissa pushed up on one elbow, pulling his waistcoat off and sending it to join his jacket in a heap on the floor. Still, he stared at her in silence. “What?” she asked.

His voice was rich with feeling as he said, “Let me pleasure you, Claire. Just this once. Oh, please, say you’ll let me!”

She couldn’t hold in her smile as she gave a magnanimous wave of her hand. “If you insist.”

Rupert didn’t seem to notice her irony. Leaning forward, he kissed her tenderly this time. For a woman who had never felt treasured, who had spent the last two years specifically feeling like the biggest laughingstock in all of England, it was heady stuff. When his fingers went to the ribbon tie at the neck of her nightgown, she didn’t feel the slightest trepidation, much to her surprise. Sharing this intimacy with Rupert felt like the most natural thing in the world.

The ribbon gave way, and Rupert pushed the nightgown open to Clarissa’s waist. She had been dressed for bed and wore nothing beneath it. He froze, his eyes transfixed on the newly revealed expanse of bare skin.

Clarissa knew she had a bosom that could be described as middling. But judging by Rupert’s expression, he did not regard it as the humdrum sort of affair it truly was. You would’ve been forgiven for assuming she was some sort of curvaceous courtesan.

“Claire,” he whispered, cupping a breast, his voice as reverent as his touch.

She shuddered at the feel of his warm hands, a delicious contrast in the cold room. Or maybe it was his thumb, swirling over her nipple, that had her shaking like a leaf. She must’ve touched herself there a million times to wash and get dressed, yet it felt entirely different when it was Rupert’s hand caressing her there…

He began trailing kisses down her neck, pausing to linger over her collarbone. Clarissa’s breath was coming fast now. As his lips pressed against the upper swell of her breast, Clarissa threaded her fingers into Rupert’s hair, hoping he would kiss her on the nipple that was peaked in the cold night air.

He did not disappoint her, and her body jolted when his tongue swirled around her. He tormented her right breast in the best possible way, then switched to the left side. Clarissa found that her hands had wandered down his torso of their own accord, pulling his shirt from the waistband of his trousers and slipping inside to discover the warm skin of his abdomen.

Rupert sat up, tugging the shirt off. Clarissa stared at him, curious. He wasn’t heavily built, but his arms and stomach were beautifully sculpted with muscles. Feeling shy, she reached out to touch one of the circles on his stomach. He groaned, then tugged her into his arms.

Her brain ceased functioning the instant her skin came into contact with his. It felt so good . She wanted to stay in his arms forever. She was vaguely aware of him pushing her nightgown down over her hips and then off entirely, but she was too far gone to feel self-conscious about being naked before a man for the first time.

“ Claire ,” he breathed, his voice worshipful. He stroked a hand down the length of her body. He sat her up on the sofa atop her crumpled nightgown, his eyes drinking her in, and Clarissa had never felt so beautiful.

Suddenly, he was pressing soft kisses against her stomach. “I’m going to make this so good for you.”

Clarissa certainly liked the sound of that. She let her head loll back, luxuriating in Rupert’s hands and lips roving over her body.

Being not only innocent but somewhat ignorant when it came to the finer points of lovemaking, Clarissa didn’t know precisely what Rupert was going to do to make this good for her, as he put it.

But the one thing she had not been expecting him to do was to kiss her down there .

His warm breath against her inner thigh pierced her haze of pleasure. She looked down to see that Rupert had moved to the floor, where he was kneeling between her legs. He made a sound of pleasure as he pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh.

“Rupert?” she asked, alarmed. “What are you—”

“Shh,” he said, pushing her thighs open. “Don’t worry, Claire. You’re going to like this.”

She was unconvinced. “Are you sure you should be… Oh !”

Rupert was right. Or maybe he was wrong because like was far too tepid a word to describe her feelings regarding… whatever he was doing with his tongue.

She attempted to tell him. That she was, in fact, enjoying it. That she wished for him to continue.

“Ru… Ru… Rup…” She felt her eyes cross.

“Mm-hmm?” he murmured from between her thighs.

“Guh… Guh…” That seemed to be as much as she could manage. Giving up, she squeezed her eyes shut.

“Mmm,” Rupert hummed soothingly.

Clarissa felt like a bottle of champagne, except it was pleasure bubbling up inside her, floating toward the surface. She had never experienced anything like this before, and it was a little bit frightening how good Rupert was making her feel. She became conscious that her knees were starting to tremble and her fingers had knotted in Rupert’s hair. The pleasure in that little spot between her legs built and built until it was as potent as cognac. A whimpering sound emerged from her lips. She had never imagined that something could feel this good. The trembling grew more violent, the pleasure almost too much…

She gasped as the tension suddenly burst. Now, her legs were shaking violently, and she could feel the place between her legs squeezing in rhythmic pulses. Rupert slowed the pace of his tongue, then as even that was starting to become too much, he withdrew, looking up at her with a soft smile.

He rose from kneeling on the floor and scooped her up in his arms, cradling her in his lap. She curled eagerly against his warm chest.

He pressed a kiss against her temple. “Thank you for letting me do that.”

It was all Clarissa could do not to laugh hysterically. Thank her ? He was the one who deserved gratitude for showing her the most marvelous pleasure.

It took her a minute to recover sufficiently to tell him as much. “Thank you , Rupert. That was wonderful .”

He squeezed her but didn’t move from his position holding her with his head buried in her hair.

After drawing in a couple more shaky breaths, Clarissa brushed a kiss across his lips. “Your turn.”

He peered at her, his brow creased in confusion. “My turn? What do you…?” His eyes went wide, his expression shifting to one of shock. “Oh, you don’t have to do anything for me!”

That firm bulge beneath the falls of his trousers was still pressing into her thigh. “Wouldn’t you like me to?”

Was it her imagination, or had his cheeks turned pink? “Well, er… Don’t worry about it.”

She brought her hand down, experimentally stroking him through the woolen fabric of his trousers. “It seems like you would.”

His breath was coming fast. “I mean, I would , but I don’t expect you to… to…”

Encouraged, Clarissa started unbuttoning his falls. “You’ll have to help me.”

“H-help you?” he gasped as she reached inside his trousers and wrapped a hand around his length.

“Seeing as I don’t know what to do.” She pressed a kiss against his neck. He filled her hand perfectly.

He gave a shaky laugh. “You seem to be a natural.”

Clarissa pressed the falls of his trousers open and pulled him out. She stared at his member in fascination. Having grown up in the countryside, she knew theoretically how copulation worked and that this was the part that would go inside of her. It was hard to imagine it fitting.

She glanced up at Rupert and saw that his eyes had gone unfocused with pleasure. She quite liked that look on him. “Show me what to do,” she whispered.

He covered her hand with his own and showed her how to slide it up and down his length. A drop of liquid formed at the top of his member, and it soon rendered him smooth and slippery.

Once she had picked up the rhythm, Rupert removed his hand. He let his head loll to the side so his forehead pressed against hers. “Oh, Claire,” he sighed. “That feels so good.”

She could tell by his face that it did, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she could make it even better. “Should I use my mouth on you the way you did on me?”

His body jerked. “Oh! You don’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t have to, but if it would make you feel good, then I would like to.” He said nothing, so she poked him in the ribs. “Would it feel good?”

His breath was coming in pants. “I mean… it would, but I don’t expect you to… to… Claire?”

She moved to kneel between his legs. Tentatively, she pressed a kiss against the tip of his member. His whole body shuddered. “What do I do?”

“Keep going with your hand,” he said, his voice tight. “Use your mouth along with it, up and down… yes , just like that.”

She kept up the motion. Rupert brought his hands up to frame her face, but not so he could control her pace. No, his touch was gentle, reverent, and when she chanced a glance at his face, he regarded her with wonder, as if he couldn’t believe she was doing this for him.

Clarissa couldn’t help but wonder if anyone had bothered to be kind to this man, who was so very kind to everyone he encountered.

Although she had no idea what she was doing, she must’ve been doing something right, because after a few minutes, she felt Rupert’s thighs harden to iron. “Claire!” he gasped. “I’m about to… You’re going to make me…” He laughed nervously. “I’m not sure if you know what’s about to happen, but you might not want this in your mouth, and… Oh, my God—Claire. Claire. Claire !”

It happened that she did know what was going to happen, at least, in a general sense, and so it wasn’t a great surprise when she felt a pulse of liquid fill her mouth. She swallowed it down before she had a chance to consider whether that was a good idea. Above her on the sofa, Rupert was making sounds of pleasure, and she fancied she would never forget the wonder on his face.

After the pulses stopped, he caressed her face. Withdrawing from her mouth, he pulled her up on the sofa and kissed her deeply. “Thank you,” he said earnestly. “You have no idea how much it means to me that you were willing to do that.”

Clarissa snuggled next to him on the sofa. “I was happy to do it.” Spotting her discarded wrapper draped over the armrest, she grabbed it and spread it over them like a blanket. Considering she’d had her first kiss that afternoon, it was startling how natural it felt to sit here with her head on Rupert’s shoulder, her completely naked and him with his trousers shoved halfway down his legs. For his part, Rupert seemed content to sit quietly with his arms wrapped around her and his face buried in her hair.

Clarissa yawned, feeling content. Rupert squeezed her. “None of that, now. We can’t fall asleep here.”

She responded by yawning again. “I don’t know why I’m feeling so tired. I was full of energy a moment ago.”

He pulled her more snugly against him. “It’s normal to feel sleepy after a climax.”

“Is it? I wouldn’t know. I hadn’t even kissed a man before today,” she admitted.

Rupert looked up, a gentle smile on his face. “Truly?” At her nod, he laughed. “What a lucky fellow I am. But that’s even more reason not to risk any damage to your reputation.”

Much to Clarissa’s disappointment, he scooped her night rail off the floor and helped her back into it. While she fastened her wrapper, he retrieved his shirt and did up his trousers. “Go,” he said, pressing a kiss against her forehead. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

Nodding sleepily, she slipped from the room.