Chapter Nine

E lizabeth couldn't believe it could feel this spectacular to be touched by another human being. Her body felt as if her skin sizzled with a mind of its own, as if it demanded to be pressed against the man in front of her. She tried to comply. She held her arms around him, pressed her palms into his back, and angled her head to press more of her mouth against his.

Lysander groaned against her lips and she felt his muscles grow taut against her, as if he were holding back. She knew how precise his movements could be, how controlled, and it felt as if he held himself in check.

For her.

She pulled back from his lips and demanded, "Don't do that."

He moved his lips to her cheek, practically licking warmth across her jawline. "Do what?"

She had to suck in a deep breath because it was hard to think about anything past the passion that was quickly consuming her. She traced her thoughts back together and answered, "Hold back."

He made a noise deep down in his throat that sent a shiver up her spine. His passion sounded predatory and she felt every tenacious bit of him as he reclaimed her mouth, holding the back of her head, his hands in her hair. She wasn't sure how, but her cloak slid from her shoulders and, without breaking contact with her, he flung it out on the ground.

Dragging her down with him, they knelt on the fabric and she had an errant thought that the cloak would be ruined if they continued to abuse it so, but then he dragged his intense mouth down her neck and sucked at a sensitive spot by her shoulder.

All thoughts fled from her mind, she was only there to feel. She felt the cool forest air dance along her skin, and felt her nipples begin to pebble as they hardened against her shift. But most of all she felt him everywhere around her.

His mouth worked its way down across her collarbone, sucking along underneath it and the lower he teased, the harder it was to catch her breath. His hands moved down to her back, holding her steady when her body very well may have melted by now. Her hands moved up into his hair, loving how it felt to have a part of him intertwined in her fingers.

With a few presses forward and his hands still on her back, he guided her down onto her cape and moved next to her, sliding one arm under her head and the other against her hip. Their lips met again and it drifted into her mind that she wanted this.

She wanted all of this.

Panting, she pulled away and asked, "You meant it? You want nothing in return for your help?"

It was hard to believe him. Now that she had said the words out loud, spoken the doubt in her mind, she wasn't as sure about what she wanted from him. She wanted his protection, she wanted him to help her escape.

She wanted him.

But she also didn't want to feel used. It would be foolish to give herself to him now only to realize later that he had taken these moments from her and then left her.

He was, after all, a highwayman.

But he had come back for her even though he didn't have to.

He went still and slowly pulled his hand away from her hip. Then he raised his head and rested it on his hand, lying sideways next to her. "You want me to stop."

She didn't!

She bit her lip and looked down at their bodies, at the tiny space between them that felt like fields too far. "I…"

She closed her eyes and tried to reassemble her thoughts. She wanted to be honest with him. If she couldn't be honest with him at a moment like this, then she would never be able to trust him.

And she so desperately wanted to trust him.

She tried again, "I do not want to stop."

She watched as he hardened, his body as still and taut as marble.

She went on, "I want to trust you."

He leaned back over, his body pressing into hers, pressing it over, pressing it down as he covered her. His mouth found hers again and the explosion of passion behind his kiss swept her back up in the moment.

His lips pressed heated kisses down her chin, down her neck, and when she whimpered at a particular spot, he stopped there and teased her skin with his tongue. Her stomach tightened and her hands tangled in his hair. "Lysander."

He moved further down and she didn't realize he had undone the ties around the back of her neck until her bodice pulled down. He pulled down her dress, his mouth trailing over the top mound of her right breast. It felt exquisite and she knew this was not where he wanted to stop.

He tugged on the tie of her stays and then pushed them open. Pulling her chemise to the side, his mouth circled her right breast, teasing the skin, making her whimper. Then his mouth found the tip of her breast and pleasure radiated from her nipple to swirl through her entire body. She lifted her knees, tangling her legs around his and gripped a fistful of his soft hair between her fingers.

She wanted this, desperately. She wanted him. She wanted the feelings he aroused in her. That budding intrigue from a few days ago had been fanned into a blazing craving that made her want more of him.

The hem of his shirt had come untucked and she lifted it, sliding her fingers underneath the linen and over his bare skin. He felt so warm and smooth, yet so masculine and different. It was tantalizing running her hands like this over another person. It felt so personal, so perfect.

He was perfect.

He groaned against her breast, "You're perfect, "echoing her thoughts.

He rose for a moment and pulled off his shirt, leaving him bare from the waist up. She sat up and he pushed away her short stays and pulled her chemise over her head. All that was left was her dress, now bunched up down around her waist.

His eyes devoured her until he lowered himself over her again, his mouth trailing down her stomach and following the fabric of her dress as he pulled it lower.

And lower.

Until it was down by her feet and his sensuous tongue licked down her hip and back up her thigh.

His voice low and husky, he asked, "Elizabeth? Do you still want to trust me?"

She nodded down at him. "I do."

He offered one of his dangerous grins, similar to the one he had given when she was in the carriage. "Good."

Her entire body was tight until his mouth kissed her there. Then absolutely nothing was tight, her body heating and melting. She gasped and moaned as he licked down, then up, as if he savored every bit of her as much as the last part of her his tongue had just discovered.

He pulled his head away and she whimpered. How could he tease her so?

He said, "Don't do that."

"What?"

"Hold back."

He settled his mouth over her and she cried out. Her body was done melting and it felt as if she were slowly stiffening again, bit by bit, starting deep between her thighs until she wasn't sure her body could hold any more of the tension inside of her. Suddenly, the tension broke, rippling through her, as if the pleasure he gave her could consume all the jagged, unwanted things in her life and leave her smooth and peaceful.

He kissed the inside of her thigh and back up her stomach, teasing over her breast again and then hovering over her, his eyes bright with passion.

His arms, muscled and hard, braced on either side of her and she trailed her fingertips up and down them. Quietly, she said, "That was not all of it."

Just as softly, he asked, "Do you want to stop?"

There were so many things between them that they didn't know about each other. Her moment of hesitation must have shown in her expression. He pulled away, moving to the side, and taking a deep breath. His voice was low and her pulse raced at his words. "Your kiss has branded me. From the moment I first saw you in the carriage, something about you filled my head and hasn't let go."

She reached for him, grabbing his hand and pulling him back.

He continued, "I will protect you. You have a hold on some feral part of me that would rather tear itself to pieces than see anything happen to you."

She didn't even know what to say. She thought about the small amount of romantic poetry that she had read, snippets of Byron flitting through her memory. Nothing had ever sounded like this man.

He meant his words. Their meaning held in his body, in the way his eyes tracked her, in the firm grace of his face.

She said, "I trust you."

He climbed back over her, his hips dipping low and his erection pressing against her thigh. There was barely a layer of fabric between them and she was ready for all the layers to be peeled away.

She said, "You came back for me."

He nodded and dropped his mouth to her neck. Against her skin, he said, "For you."

Those words again. They melted her.

In the next instant, there wasn't a layer of fabric between them. Every bit of him felt so incredibly right and she wanted to feel all of him against her body. That tense feeling that had built in her earlier was beginning again except this time she knew where it could go.

"Lysander."

"I am here for you."

The tip of his erection prodded her entrance and she wasn't sure what to do with her body. She knew how it worked but being here, being with him, wanting to do this was very different from understanding the mechanics.

This wasn't science, it was pure, mind-melting artistry.

His tip pushed in and he watched her. She held still, her knees up, her legs spread, and she nodded at him, trusting him. He slid in a bit further and the pressure didn't feel as good as his mouth had. This was uncomfortable.

He pulled his tip back and then slowly slid it back in a little farther. His voice gruff, he asked, "Does that help? If I do it a bit at a time?"

She nodded. "Is this working for you?"

"It's killing me. You told me not to hold back and if you were more experienced I would have pounded your bare arse into the ground until you screamed my name and left passionate scratches all down my back from the animalistic need inside of us."

She blinked, picturing the image of him, completely letting go of all restraint and taking her on a wild, passionate ride.

That tense sensation inside of her heated and this time, when he slid his tip back in, she felt the luxurious slide of his erection and moaned.

He growled, slid back out, and then back in again, a little farther this time.

So slowly.

Again, he slid, reaching a little farther, and again, until she could feel that his hips were pressed against her and he was all the way inside.

This time, when he pulled out, she savored the length of him.

And then back in.

She breathed out. "Lysander."

He slid out.

"I think," she gasped as he moved, "you can," she moaned and wrapped her legs tighter around him, her nails digging into his back as she clung to him, "go a little faster."

He inhaled and slid back in, picking up the pace, dropping his head to hers. "You are too beautiful for me."

That tension was coiling low inside of her again and she was so close to feeling it ripple out of control. She buried her face by his neck and panted his name.

The tension burst, except this time it was as if having Lysander around her amplified the explosion of pleasure. It coursed through her body, tensing and warming and melting, sending a new wave again and again until every bit of her body felt the climax.

He made a sound of pleasure, deep in his throat and pulled out. Pressing his lips against hers, he poured a fiery passion from his lips to hers, as if he could taste the fierce sexuality coursing through both of them.

Breathing, her chest heaving from an exertion she didn't remember enduring, she asked, "Did you feel…"

She wasn't sure how to finish her question. He nodded anyway and settled his head on her breasts. Her hands idly rested on his head, her fingers stroking his hair.

He said, "You are too beautiful. In so many ways."